Michael Hinko Jr

 Grandma Hinko immigrated from Ukraine when she was a teen. Her role in the family was to cook. She was rarely seen outside of her kitchen. Even had a kitchen at the cottage in the Indiana Dunes. And a smokehouse for sausage. Her daughter Marie had to go over and clean the house because Grandma was busy cooking. Grandma filled big blue roaster pans with stuffed cabbages, pierogis, etc and my bachelor uncle and my grandfather would fill the car with pans and drive to the homes of the other family members to drop off food and, always, two 10” pies. Just in case we might have a hunger attack later in the day. Ha. She also had a garden and grew poppies. Then she would save the seed pods and use the seeds to make poppy seed cake. Oh, and she also baked huge loaves of bread! I inherited the garden/cooking gene.  Grandma Sabina Hinko in her kitchen with Grandpa John Hinko

  According To Me At Age Seven In 1962. In October of 1962, the Soviet Union, whatever that is, started to deliver missiles - which is a type of rocket, but without an astronaut - to Cuba, an island near Florida. We knew this because earlier in the evening President Kennedy came on TV, on all the channels at the same time, and spoke in a serious voice.  I already had an idea it was going to be about serious stuff because Dad came home from work early and we had early dinner and then we all went into the living room to watch President Kennedy. All of this was way different than the usual evening. Dad never came home from work early, he was always a little late. And after we ate dinner, my two older sisters would take turns on the telephone, calling their friends, while my younger sister and I would play. But here we all were in the living room, watching President Kennedy. I wasn’t sure I understood what the President was telling us. I looked over at my dad and I could tell I’d ...

 My uncle, Nick “Corky” Hinko, was a Chicago cop. For his entire career he ran right into the middle of the trouble. Think about that. We would seek to distance ourselves from such situations. But his job was to be right there, trying to protect us from the bad guys. See how big he looks standing next to his police car? That’s not a camera trick. If you were in a tough spot, Corky would be the guy you’d want to see rolling up. This short piece isn’t about the battle between the cops and the bad guys. You can find a mile high stack of stories about that. This is about Corky. Getting ready for a day’s or a night’s work, Corky would put on the uniform and pack his belt with the gun, the bullets, the nightstick, the sap, the handcuffs, the notepad and pens, the jacket and cap. He’d grab his lunch and thermos of coffee and head out to whatever that day would bring. Day after day, sweltering summers, freezing winters, he was there for the people of Chicago, to serve and protect. At the e...

  ...west of Chiang Dow, north of Chiang Mai. October 8, 1983 I’m certainly ‘away from it all’ now. The Shan people, my guide explained, are the most civilized of the tribes we will visit. They have a written language, as exhibited in the ‘Shan Book,’ a collection of writings centered on their history and Shan Buddhism. Tonight we sleep in the former head chief’s house; a pretty nice place, actually. There’s no furniture, but it is clean, dry and built of solid teak - even teak shingles on the roof. Our guide is now cooking dinner in a wok over an open fire. Earlier I bathed in a nearby stream - sure felt good. Time to eat. Rice, Shan beans and chilis. Shan beans are white beans steamed soft, rolled into a paste and dried over a fire. They taste like some soybean snacks I’ve had.     I really feel I’m in a different environment. Up till now there was always something I could identify as related to my lifestyle; an electric light, a bed, radio, something. Right now I’m rec...