Nazek Fahmy Was Our Foreign Exchange Student From Egypt

Chem-Phsics Class Photos from the Archives of Mary Parsons Caisey

I remember when this photo was taken in class and finding out I was not named in the newspaper caption. When John and I connected again on Facebook, we discovered a common wedding anniversary, same day and year, different locations.

" It Was My Own Little Home -- And I Was Fond of It -- And I Went Away And Forgot All about It."

Ratty and Mole finally arrive at Moley's home, in time for Christmas.

The Wind in the Willows, Kenneth Grahame, Chapter Five, Dulce Domum, Excerpts, Public Domain

We others, who have long lost the more subtle of the physical senses, have not even proper terms to express an animal's inter-communications with his surroundings, living or otherwise, and have only the word `smell,' for instance, to include the whole range of delicate thrills which murmur in the nose of the animal night and day, summoning, warning? inciting, repelling. It was one of these mysterious fairy calls from out the void that suddenly reached Mole in the darkness, making him tingle through and through with its very familiar appeal, even while yet he could not clearly remember what it was. He stopped dead in his tracks, his nose searching hither and thither in its efforts to recapture the fine filament, the telegraphic current, that had so strongly moved him. A moment, and he had caught it again; and with it this time came recollection in fullest flood.

Home! That was what they meant, those caressing appeals, those soft touches wafted through the air, those invisible little hands pulling and tugging, all one way! Why, it must be quite close by him at that moment, his old home that he had hurriedly forsaken and never sought again, that day when he first found the river! And now it was sending out its scouts and its messengers to capture him and bring him in. Since his escape on that bright morning he had hardly given it a thought, so absorbed had he been in his new life, in all its pleasures, its surprises, its fresh and captivating experiences. Now, with a rush of old memories, how clearly it stood up before him, in the darkness! Shabby indeed, and small and poorly furnished, and yet his, the home he had made for himself, the home he had been so happy to get back to after his day's work.

[ GJ - But Ratty refused to take a detour! He was too busy.]

Poor Mole stood alone in the road, his heart torn asunder, and a big sob gathering, gathering, somewhere low down inside him, to leap up to the surface presently, he knew, in passionate escape. But even under such a test as this his loyalty to his friend stood firm. Never for a moment did he dream of abandoning him. Meanwhile, the wafts from his old home pleaded, whispered, conjured, and finally claimed him imperiously. He dared not tarry longer within their magic circle. With a wrench that tore his very heartstrings he set his face down the road and followed submissively in the track of the Rat, while faint, thin little smells, still dogging his retreating nose, reproached him for his new friendship and his callous forgetfulness.

The Mole subsided forlornly on a tree-stump and tried to control himself, for he felt it surely coming. The sob he had fought with so long refused to be beaten. Up and up, it forced its way to the air, and then another, and another, and others thick and fast; till poor Mole at last gave up the struggle, and cried freely and helplessly and openly, now that he knew it was all over and he had lost what he could hardly be said to have found.

The Rat, astonished and dismayed at the violence of Mole's paroxysm of grief, did not dare to speak for a while. At last he said, very quietly and sympathetically, `What is it, old fellow? Whatever can be the matter? Tell us your trouble, and let me see what I can do.'

Poor Mole found it difficult to get any words out between the upheavals of his chest that followed one upon another so quickly and held back speech and choked it as it came. `I know it's a -- shabby, dingy little place,' he sobbed forth at last, brokenly: `not like -- your cosy quarters -- or Toad's beautiful hall -- or Badger's great house -- but it was my own little home -- and I was fond of it -- and I went away and forgot all about it -- and then I smelt it suddenly -- on the road, when I called and you wouldn't listen, Rat -- and everything came back to me with a rush -- and I wanted it! -- O dear, O dear! -- and when you wouldn't turn back, Ratty -- and I had to leave it, though I was smelling it all the time -- I thought my heart would break. -- We might have just gone and had one look at it, Ratty -- only one look -- it was close by -- but you wouldn't turn back, Ratty, you wouldn't turn back! O dear, O dear!'

Recollection brought fresh waves of sorrow, and sobs again took full charge of him, preventing further speech.

The Rat stared straight in front of him, saying nothing, only patting Mole gently on the shoulder. After a time he muttered gloomily, `I see it all now! What a pig I have been! A pig -- that's me! Just a pig -- a plain pig!'

Read this brilliant analysis of the author's life and his classic work.

Jack Sundine, Moline Daily Dispatch

Jack Sundine was the editor of the Dispatch while we were growing up.

GENESEO, Ill. — Jack Sundine, 91, formerly of Moline, died peacefully on Friday, September 2, 2011, at his home in Geneseo, Ill.

According to his wishes, his body is being donated to the University of Iowa Carver College of Medicine. A private family gathering is planned.

Jack Sundine was born in Moline on April 6, 1920, to August and Florence (Rogers) Sundine. On March 30, 1946, in San Francisco, Calif., he married Patricia Niemeyer. That marriage ended in divorce. In 1988, he married Loretta Trainer, who preceded him in death in 1993.

Mr. Sundine graduated from Moline High School, attended Augustana College and graduated from Northwestern University with a degree in journalism. After attending U.S. Midshipman School at Notre Dame and serving in the U.S. Navy in World War II, he retired from the Naval Reserve with the rank of captain. He was co-publisher and editor of the Moline Dispatch Newspaper for 19 years, retiring in 1969. He lived in Florida for many years.

Mr. Sundine was active in many organizations in the Quad-Cities, including as president of the Moline Chamber of Commerce, chairman of the Metropolitan Airport Commission of Rock Island County, chairman of the Rock Island County Cancer Society, chairman of the Illinois Public Aid Commission, vice-president of the Illinois Public Airport Association, senior professional member of the Illinois Aeronautics Board and member of the Illinois Human Rights Commission. He was also active in the ACLU and NAACP. He was a member of Trinity Lutheran Church in Moline for many years before moving to Florida. Throughout his life, he took an active interest in politics and current events. After retirement, he enjoyed freelance writing.

Survivors include a daughter, Stephanie (Victor DeRenzi) Sundine of New York, N.Y.; a sister, Jo Schneider of Austin, Texas; three granddaughters, Francesca MacBeth, Kate Laver and Stephanie Kruse; and four great-grandchildren. He was preceded in death by his parents, a sister, Jeanne Gorham, a son, John Sundine, and a daughter, Krista Kruse.

Online condolences may be sent at www.wendtfuneralhome.com. Read more: http://qctimes.com/app/obits/?section=profile&id=168860#ixzz1XuDfB5Bf

Pat Sundine was a pioneer in television for women.

Stephanie Sundine became an opera star and director.

Melo Cream Memories from an Employee

Anonymous has left a new comment on your post "View of Old Moline":

I enjoy reading what you post.

I grew up in Moline and worked at Melo-Cream at 16 (almost 58 now), as did an older sister Cindy and my Mother Donna when she was young. You had a picture posted, one of the girls looks like she could be my mom.
I remember all the pictures on the walls and how Homer Jackson would love taking them(pics). He took the workers to see Brigadoon , the one and only play I ever saw. He and his two hour naps "NOT MORE THEN TWO HOURS" he would say.

He always had the radio tuned to WQUA but when he went down for his nap some how the radio would get turned to KSTT. Homer loved his children and would brag (in a good way) about them. Through the years I have often thought of them and wondered how they are.

Homer would buy us work shoes and had air conditioner put in our apartments.

I'm rambling now but could go on and on. Thank You Homer

Susan Partlow Flanagan

***

GJ - How kind of you to post this, Susan. If you friend me on Facebook you can find a bunch of Melo-Cream photos in my albums. Dave Coopman will have a laugh about KSTT, because that was the cool radio station. It was a pleasure to know the WQUA announcers and Flambo.

Send more memories to post, Susan. I worked there too, but I think before your tenure. Dad was quite a character. He was very stingy and also very generous. He wanted people to be healthy and not suffer from bad, cheap shoes. I used to hear from classmates about what Dad was saying. I would ask, "My father?" He would ask me about everything going on in my adult life and not say anything. He didn't want to spoil me with his responses. But he would go on and on with others, I understand.

Adam Jones was a WQUA announcer, now famous with his wife for their liturgical ceramics business.

We Have Lost Someone Special in Norma Tunberg

Norma Tunberg, Whitey's Ice Cream matriarch, was a Moline icon.

'We have lost someone special' in Norma Tunberg

Share Originally Posted Online: Sept. 06, 2011, 5:38 pm Last Updated: Sept. 06, 2011, 6:33 pm Comment on this story | Print this story | Email this story By John Marx, jmarx@qconline.com

George McDoniel said one of his toughest challenges was finding different ways to say thank you to the late Norma Tunberg.

Mr. McDoniel, executive director of the Children's Therapy Center of the Quad-Cities, said Mrs. Tunberg and her late husband, Bob, were the most generous supporters of children with disabilities the area has ever known.

Mrs. Tunberg, of Moline, who owned Whitey's Ice Cream for 58 years, died Sunday at age 88. Bob Tunberg died in 1991.

Services are 10 a.m. today at Sacred Heart Catholic Church, Moline.

"Norma and Bob spent a lifetime making sure children had what they needed,'' Mr. McDoniel said. "Every month in my 27 years, and I'm sure many years before me, support financially came from the Tunbergs.That commitment has been passed on to their sons, Jon and Jeff Tunberg.

"When I took the job I have now in 1984, I was told one of my toughest tasks would be finding new ways to say thank you to the Tunbergs. Few were as gracious and caring as Norma. Few were as sharp and understanding as Norma. What an amazing woman and an amazing family.''

For nearly six decades, Mrs. Tunberg helped build what was a corner ice cream store into several area outlets that have become one of the most successful businesses in the Midwest.

Mr. McDoniel, who knows a gem when he sees one, says Mrs. Tunberg was the model by which to live one's life.

"Norma and Bob -- and it took me years to be able to abide by her request to call her Norma -- were examples that success comes to great people,'' Mr. McDoniel said.

"Whitey's Ice Cream is the Quad-Cities. The Tunbergs are the Quad-Cities, not only because of their business, but of their commitment to their community. Norma set an amazing, well-rounded example as to how to live your life.''

Mr. McDoniel said an annual one-on-one conversation with Mrs. Tunberg covering an assortment of topics was something he looked forward to.

"It was a Christmas-time event I knew would brighten my day, my week, the season,'' Mr. McDoniel said. "It was like it always was, difficult to find a new way to tell Norma thank you for her generosity and her guidance. She was such an engaging, friendly person with an uplifting spirit. We have lost someone special.''

Despite a hectic schedule, Mrs. Tunberg always made time for others. She was a member of Sacred Heart Catholic Church in Moline, the Terpsichorean Dance Club and was a past president of the Garfield School PTA, John Deere Junior High PTA and Junior Women's Club. She loved to travel and exercise.

"Never once did she get caught up in thinking about herself,'' Mr. McDoniel said. "It was always for the good of everyone.''

Columnist John Marx can be reached at (309) 757-8388 or jmarx@qconline.com.

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