Bridgeview police collect thousands of dollars for Special Olympics

Bridgeview police collect donations for the Special Olympics at the Dunkin' Donuts in Summit.

By Bob Bong
Desplaines Valley News

Bridgeview police raised almost $5,000 for the Special Olympics by collecting donations last week at three area Dunkin’ Donut locations.

“This is a program that we enjoy being a part of,” said Bridgeview Police Chief Russ Harvey while collecting donations in a plastic bucket in front of the Dunkin’ Donuts on Harlem Avenue in Summit.

“It’s a very good cause,” he said.

Harvey thanked police in Summit, Hickory Hills and Burbank for letting the Bridgeview PD set up shop at Dunkin’ Donut locations in their towns.

“Since we no longer have a Dunkin’ Donuts in town, our neighboring police departments have been kind enough to allow us to take temporary occupation of theirs,” he said.

Harvey said donations totaled $4,845.63 from all three coffee shops.

The morning crew at the Summit Dunkin'Donuts.

“We raised $1,270.22 in Burbank, $2,530.46 in Hickory Hills and $1,044.95 in Summit,” he said.

Inside the shop, owner Kathy Anczerewicz was happy to see the police presence.

“I try to do this every year,” she said. “Here and my other location in Palos Heights. It’s a program that’s close to my heart.

“Those kids deserve everything they can get,” she said. “This is our way of helping them out.”

This was the 11th year in a row that police patrolled the rooftops and parking lots of Dunkin’ Donut coffee shops on the lookout for donations for the Special Olympics.

The police wanted to heighten awareness of the Special Olympics and to raise money for the Law Enforcement Torch Run to benefit the Special Olympics.

“More than $1.3 million has been raised from this event over the last 10 years and we’re hoping to set new records this year,” said Illinois Torch Run Director and Sherman Police Chief Eric Smith.  “It’s a wonderfully fun event that works.”

A total amount raised in the Chicago area was not available.

Summit woman awaits trial date for fatal collision

By Bob Rakow
Desplaines Valley News

A trial date for a Summit woman whose car struck and killed a man in front of his Summit home is scheduled to be set on Aug. 21.

Salatiel Mendoza, 46, was killed April 29 when he was struck by a car in front of his house in the 7200 block of 61^st Place in Summit. Mendoza was loading wooden boards onto his truck at the time of the accident.

Mendoza was pronounced dead on the scene at 5:55 a.m. about 25 minutes after he was struck, according to the Cook County Medical Examiner’s Office.

The driver, Jessica Munoz, 21, also of Summit, appeared to be distracted at the time of the accident, Summit police said.

Munoz appeared in Bridgeview court Tuesday morning accompanied by her attorney, Victor Armendariz.

Armendariz and Summit village attorney Gustavo Munoz agreed to an Aug. 21 status hearing before Judge Patrick Rogers. A trial date will set at that hearing.

Munoz said he will talk to witnesses and prepare for the trial during the weeks leading to the Aug. 21 hearing.

Jessica Munoz, who lives only a few blocks away from Mendoza, was charged with failure to reduce speed to avoid an accident and failure to exercise due care, according to police reports.

A charge of driving without insurance was dropped, Gustavo Munoz said. There were no indications that speeding or alcohol were factors, said Summit police Lt. Bruce Koenig.

Munoz was not texting at the time of the accident, police said. A witness at the scene told police she had a cell phone in her hand when she struck Mendoza, police said.

Mendoza’s truck was double-parked as he loaded it, but there was still enough room for a car to go around the vehicle, Koenig said.

Lyons centenarian celebrates her 107th birthday with a rib dinner

Lorraine Bannach

By Phil Arvia
Desplaines Valley News

Three days shy of Lorraine Bannach's 107th birthday, near the end of a 90-minute chat, a visitor tells the Lyons resident she doesn't look a day over 80.

Lorraine's neighbor, John Seplak, leans in and says a few soft words to the guest.

"No whispering," Bannach admonishes.

"I told him the secret," Seplak says, pointing to his head.

Bannach smiles, reaches up and pulls off her wig. The reveal is not enough difference in the hair department to change the earlier sentiment, but it does reinforce what Bannach's former doctor wrote to her way back in 1988, when she was a spring chicken of 82:

"You've got a good attitude."

Asked to describe that attitude, Bannach shrugged, saying, "I'm kind."

Indeed, describing a life that began June 3, 1906, in Lublin, Wis., Bannach knocks out the lowlights succinctly.

A hard childhood?

"My life wasn't like little girls should have. I was pushed around by my stepfather …  I fought him off."

A brother-in-law who treated her baby sister poorly?

"He wasn't the kind of guy who made things better."

Her first White Castle hamburger, sampled only six months ago?

"I didn't like it," she says, making a face.

Perhaps that's because Bannach grinds her own meat when she wants a burger. Same with her homemade Polish sausage. More often, though, she makes her favorite, pork chops, or chicken with noodles.

Regardless, she eats well.

"My secret is this: Eat good food," she says. "My way of thinking is this: you overeat, you break yourself down."

If there is another secret to her longevity, perhaps it is this:

"And I've got good credit, all over."

Her century-plus of all over has been spent mostly in the Chicago area. Bannach started coming to Chicago at age 15, working winters at Western Electric before returning to Lublin each spring to work the family farm.

After her mother died when Lorraine was 18, she eventually landed in Chicago full time, taking a job as a dishwasher in a Polish restaurant on the North Side.

She'd worked her way up to waitress by the time she met a customer who would become her future husband, Ben.

Ben and Lorraine owned a home in Round Lake for a time, then moved to an apartment in Chicago where they lived together for seven or eight years before Ben's death. That was nearly 60 years ago. She never remarried.

"I had my chances," she says. "But Lorraine was Lorraine."

She says it without regret. She says everything, it seems, without regret.

Even while noting her love for the house in Round Lake, her garden that took up "half a lot," she laughs off the notion of trading that in for an apartment.

"Who would rent for 50 years?" she says, laughing. "But no, I wouldn't do anything different. I don't think so."

Oh, maybe she would have kept a list of all the places she visited after Ben's death.

"I think I've only missed about nine United States," she says.

And she might have given up on TV a bit sooner.

"There's nothing on TV I care for," she says. "It's all killings, murder. I like good, clean programs."

Give her a Bing Crosby movie any day. Better yet, give her the hands and legs to go bowling again.

As it is, Bannach uses a walker — "my boyfriend," she calls it — to get around. She voluntarily gave up driving at age 102, noting, "I didn't want to kill myself or somebody else."

She was relying on Seplak to take her to a planned rib dinner for her birthday. The itinerary for her last day as a 106-year-old included a stop at former Lyons Mayor Ken Getty's annual block party.

And always, there are card games with Seplak and her caregiver, a woman who spends a few hours each day with Bannach, plus plenty of things to read.

Bannach taught herself to read and write — in English and Polish — with her mother's help after her stepfather made her quit school after just three years. She still reads the Polish newspapers Seplak brings from another neighbor in their seniors complex on Ogden Avenue.

On one, there is a photo of Barack Obama, prompting a question: Who is Bannach's favorite president?

"Roosevelt," she says, without hesitation.

Which one?

"Franklin," she says. "He gave us Social Security. The rest of them haven't done much."

The choice isn't as remarkable, perhaps, as the question. There are very few people alive who have lived through parts of the presidencies of Theodore (1901-1909) and Franklin D. (1933-1945) Roosevelt.

Though U.S. Census Bureau projections suggest upward of 200,000 centenarians will be living in the United States by 2020, the Gerontology Group reports there are only 58 living "supercentenarians" — age 110 or older — alive in the world at this writing.

The oldest living Illinoisan is Maywood's Wash Wesley, who turned 110 in January.

"Just three more years?" Bannach says. "That wouldn't be much.

"Right now, I could turn the devil over. All the laughing, all the talking, it makes me feel good."