My Class Reunion Speech

Hello classmates! Thanks for coming. Thanks to Roger Underwood for being a real life version of my childhood hero - Nancy Drew. “The Case of the Missing Classmate”.

He has taken a great deal of time to hunt down contact information for classmates through the years – no small feat. Thank you Cindy Westfall for helping to set up catering – great job by you! Thanks Dawn Stangl for the nifty nametags.

Great turnout. Why do we come to reunions?

When I was 6 or 7 years old, the Bullock family had a big addition to our family. No not Bitsy Betsy. It was our first electric toothbrush! It was so exciting – each family member had a colored brush head to insert into the agitating base.

I invited my pal Robyn to come over to see it. When she did, we were so busy adding toothpaste and working the new toothbrush, we realized with horror that the bathroom sink was going to run over! Then – I didn’t know which way to turn the flipper to turn the water off. By the time my mother helped us, water had run over onto my dad’s Hi-fi stereo system, set up right below the bathroom - on a shelf in the furnace room downstairs. His pride and joy! Speakers upstairs and down, Ray Conniff and Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass.

Once the stereo got wet, Robyn remembers my mother inviting her to go home – helping her, not all that gently on with her little mittens. (#badinfluence) Here Robyn inserted her own version of getting sent home. Thanks for the assist babe!

I bet each of you has a story like this from your childhood. They are what bind us together. Our shared experiences from our formative years.

·        Dan Mason, Robyn and I got in trouble in Kindergarten for chatting during naptime.

·        Linda Skoog stapled her own thumb in third grade, which made her puke. We all remember that awful stuff the custodial staff rushed into put on puke!

·        Recess was all important – and I’m not so sure the world wouldn’t be a better place if we had “work recess” with a good game of kickball twice a day.

·        Red Rover is out though – in 6^th grade, those devious boys let go just when I got there – a girl, determined to “break through” the boy arms, sending me sprawling into the mud in my corduroy coat. I learned a lesson that day.

·        Seventh grade! Dodge ball and square dancing for PE. Smokers in the bathroom and twirling gum.

·        Every time I hear the song “Color My World” – I still think of school, church and YMCA dances. We talked Monsignor Kane into letting us Catholics host one dance, thanks to Mary Jean Faust. Once he saw us all slow dancing – that was the end of that.

·        Church youth groups, Scouts and 4-H more memory-making. I don’t care what the Maid-Rite franchise says, the Cass County Fairgrounds had the best sloppy joes ever.

·        Then there was high school. Though I was never a sports star, I still dream about riding on the bus with my buddies. What great friendships were forged. Coming home after a game to scoop the loop before hitting Pizza Hut or Lallie’s. Others here participated in band, the year book, FFA, debate and more – similar hijinx during those events I’m sure.

When I was about 50 (I know - big jump), a group of us got together to celebrate Theresa Faust's life. Life has a way of wearing us down. I discovered how these girls, now all grown up, fill up my bucket. We laugh a lot, we talk about life and in bad times, like after our friend died, we comfort each other.

·        Our class is a fabulous one. Just ask us! Classmates are successful in all walks of life. We haven’t forgotten our roots in this little corner of Iowa….a good place to be from. Thanks again for coming! Help remind me about a few more stories from our youth…

Speaking of characters...

Isn't it interesting that as I am writing a series of blogs on characters, a big character emails me pics of a group of my high school classmates - including himself.

Todd Pellett, Jeff Becker, Kirk Wickman, Jack Bunce, Roger Underwood met up in NYC recently where they all dressed like CEOs

That person is Roger Underwood of course. I didn't know Rog until we reached Junior High School in Atlantic, Iowa. That's where all the presidents (the elementary schools in town are named after Washington, Lincoln and Jackson) spewed forth the kids to come together into one student body. He was in Mrs. Royalty's reading class with me.

I took notice of Roger when I heard he was going to be a big brother. He was the youngest kid in the family. How embarrassing! Cuz we were like 13 years old, and I knew where babies came from at that point. Golly. Roger's mother eventually gave birth to Roger's brother Jeff - and the family was complete. I got over the trauma of thinking about where babies come from.

I think Roger must have been one of those kids who was born a grown up. You know the type - they can act silly and have fun, but even then they seem a bit more mature than the average kid. They converse well with adults and seem to have a plan for everything.

It turned out pretty well for Roger - after a successful four year stint at Iowa State University (he served as my roomie Sally's campaign chair for her successful run for Student Senate), he started a company with another classmate Jeff Becker. The company grew and grew until the two eventually sold it. I think they're members of the idle rich class now - but the seem to keep pretty busy with other businesses they dabble in. Roger likes to wear bow ties. He's married to Connie and they have a couple sons that are in their early 20's.

Seeing the guys in the photo really takes me back. In my opinion, I grew up in the "Wonder Years". A big group of girls and a large group of boys - in about sixth grade we began to notice each other. We started to rendezvous on weekends - to "play football" in the fall. Silly me, I really wanted to play football. I hadn't yet been struck by the hormone stick. Some of my friends had - they were all about flirting figuring out who liked whom. I wanted to run plays and score touchdowns (the football kind). Such a simple girl.

We had a lot of slumber parties during those years. Our poor parents - 12 screaming girls for a whole night? And guess what - the boys would usually have slumber parties the same nights we did. Coincidence? I think not. We often found a way to get together at least part of the night. I think it drove poor Anne Wickman (Kirk's mother) crazy - the whole girls after her son thing.

One time at Sherry Smith's party, the boys actually came in for a while. Greg Parker lived nearby and he had a houseful of guys. I think Betty and Ralph Smith got a kick of it. I remember getting to ride Robin Kautz's mini-bike in that neighborhood too. My parents would have freaked had they known.

I was oblivious as to how lucky I was to have:
a. such a big group of friends
b. a bunch of guys interested in hanging out with me and my friends
c.  parents that were willing to put up with our antics - slumber parties, schlepping around town to meet up with guys to "play football"
Today, at a ripe old age, I realize how blessed I was.

When we got a bit older we even started sneaking out to meet the boys. I mean um those other girls did that... not me Mom...it was all those boys' faults.

Week of 2 seasons

Paul took this cool photo on his way to work Friday morning. Who knew my guy had an inner photo artsy guy inside that gruff deer killer exterior?

New mural at Metro Waste Authority (E. 3rd and Locust)

Yep, snow. A sharp contrast to the pics I took earlier in the week when I was biking, and it was near 80 degrees.

The bridge on the bike trail near our house - Monday, April 29

Tuesday Paul and I rode to Bike World to pick up a few more accessories for the biking season.

Paul with Albie and his bike (un-named) outside Bike World

Wednesday was when the weather took a turn. It was the day we got to see my old friend (from afar) Gordon Lightfoot, in concert. We went home a little early so Odie could have some "us" time before we left again. I knew if rain/snow hit, she wouldn't be going outside much in the next few days.

We decided to try out a new restaurant downtown - Americana for a drink and appetizers.

 

We still had some time before door opened at the venue - the historic Hoyt Sherman Auditorium, near Methodist Hospital. Hoyt Sherman So we dropped by our fave, the Standard. I had one of their dessert martinis. Yum! 

By now the temp had dropped a lot - the winds were swirling. We were lucky to find a parking spot right on the block with Hoyt Sherman. Inside, volunteers showed us where our seats would be, and told us we could look around the art gallery attached. Paul took my pic with the beautiful young woman.

I wanted to see just what she was looking at...

They had wine and beer for sale, but we didn't partake. We found our seats and watched the auditorium fill up. The seats are small - built for 1900's people. By the time the show started, the place was full.

Right on time Gordie and 4 musicians entered. Sentimental old woman that I am, I got choked up when he played some of my favorites from the Gord's Gold double album. Yes, his voice is not strong. He may have fumbled through some of the lyrics - the guy is 75 years old! And his songs tell a story - they don't consist of a few lines repeated over and over. Right before the break, they sang "Sundown".

During the break, I got together with my longtime pal Roger Underwood. Paul had spotted him before the show started, and I'd texted him. We snapped this photo.

AHS Class of '76, Roger asked if I was surprised to see a Repub at the concert. I said, heck - I was a Repub when I started listening to Gordon Lightfoot!

 Gordon even did a costume change during the break - bless his heart! I had asked Roger if Gordon had on Roger's FFA jacket during the first set. (I know...always the smart ass). Finally he did "If You Could Read My Mind" The first and second verses go like this - I especially the second because of the book references:

If you could read my mind, love,
What a tale my thoughts could tell.
Just like an old time movie,
'Bout a ghost from a wishing well.
In a castle dark or a fortress strong,
With chains upon my feet.
You know that ghost is me.
And I will never be set free
As long as I'm a ghost that you can't see.
                                       
If I could read your mind, love,
What a tale your thoughts could tell.
Just like a paperback novel,
The kind the drugstores sell.
Then you reached the part where the heartaches come,
The hero would be me.
But heroes often fail,
And you won't read that book again
Because the ending's just too hard to take!

The background lighting was cool

This concert was unlike any other I have been to. People didn't dance, and hoot and holler much. The other band members were very stoic. The crowd was very polite - though I think there were a few drunks in the group. I'm glad we went - he's a musician for the ages.

By Thursday morning the snow was flying, but it wasn't yet sticking. Much - until Thursday night and Friday morning. It was in the 30s. In May!