Saturday, August 19, 2006

Cleaning up the backyard & Pacifico beers

Pacifico beers
Originally uploaded by Brite light photos.
SACRAMENTO, Calif. - I just reclaimed my backyard from the vines and assorted plants that had decided it was their backyard, not mine, and in the process I imbibed of couple of bottles of beers that remind me of warmer days in Mexico.

Well, maybe not warmer. It's hot as hell outside.

But after a couple of Pacifico's (the 12 ounce bottled version, not the jumbos), the yard is spiffy enough to host a dinner party next weekend for our three new faculty members and the administrators from the university who are still speaking to me now that I am chair of our faculty.

Yes, it will be a small affair.

But today's blog is really not about my beer consumption or university politics, it's to mention an idea that Dianne Hagglund posted on the Class of '66 discussion list that Allan Winger keeps going.

Diane agreed that having a yearly get together would be fun - but she also suggested that perhaps some other folks might be willing to share their memories, perspectives, nightmares, etc... from our high school days.
Dianne Hagglund, Linda Davidson, Marianne Jim & Linda Anderson
Dianne on far left

I'm not short of stories. I haven't even started on the stuff about what we did most Halloweens or when we drank too much beer and Southern Comfort and would stumble into athletic events. (Don't worry Jim Carr, as long as you keep the Grey Goose cold for my visits to you in Arizona, the bleacher incident will not be written about...).

But I think it might be fun to have other people write up a couple of hundred words. I'll post them in this space - and I'll try to find some kind of photo to go with - as well as the author's yearbook picture. I know Cheryl Towers has some tales. I bet other people do to...

Think about it, because as soon as school starts (in about a week for me) all hell will break loose in terms of my time and while I will endeavor to keep this blog going, the gaps (like this past week) may become frequent.

Blog on, amigos, blog on!

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

How about an annual SWCS Class of '66 reunion?

See Zurh House scene
Originally uploaded by Brite light photos.
BEMUS POINT, New York - While the memory of last month's 40th reunion of the Class of '66 is still in your minds -- and it's likely you haven't yet seen your credit card bill from the trip -- let me make a wild suggestion about next summer and the summer after that and the summer after that and...

Many folks make a pilgrimage back to the Jamestown area nearly every summer, to see friends or relatives or just on a nostalgia tour.

So why not have a reunion every summer?

(Sweet Jaysus! He's lost his mind! Not true, I lost it a long time ago, amigos. A long time ago.)

What I'm suggesting is that we (you, me, the entire Class of '66) pick some weekend in the summer as a mini-reunion date. We can simply all gather at some watering hole (like the See Zurh House or Surf Club or The Pub) or elsewhere (Randy, want to throw a party? Sue Chandler? Jim Lindell, I see you hiding there...)

If five people show up, five show up. If ten, it's ten. If 100 show up, it's a social movement and we can apply for non-profit status.

All the Class of '66 needs to do is pick a date sometime for a soiree next summer.

I would prefer after July 4th, as my family obligations tend to keep me close to Valois near Seneca Lake that holiday weekend. And, given that I might have a chance to race in the Chautauqua Lake Yacht Club sailing regatta again next summer, well, I expect to be around in mid-July of 2007

But whatever date seems good, I'll be there if I can - and if not - well, I'll make it in 2008. Or 2009. Or 2010. The important thing is setting a date. Remember all those people at the See Zurh House and at Webb's you swore you would keep in touch with? Well, maybe this will help.

So, think about it. Mull it over. Chew on the idea. Bounce it around. Give it some thought. Ponder the concept. And then run it up the flagpole and see who salutes it.

In meantime, I'll open my credit card statement and see how much damage I did at Webb's Resort and elsewhere that weekend.

Hmmm... damned heavy envelope.

Sunday, August 13, 2006

Gloria Boutelle offers up a class-reunion poem

Gloria Boutelle
Originally uploaded by Brite light photos.
JAMESTOWN, New York - As I was munching a Mallo Cup, my email dinged with a missive from Gloria Boutelle about reunions.

It's pretty good.



Every ten years, as summertime nears,
An announcement arrives in the mail,
A reunion is planned; it'll be really grand;
Make plans to attend without fail.

I'll never forget the first time we met;
We tried so hard to impress.
We drove fancy cars, smoked big cigars,
And wore our most elegant dress.

It was quite an affair; the whole class was there.
It was held at a fancy hotel.
We wined, and we dined, and we acted refined,
And everyone thought it was swell.

The men all conversed about who had been first
To achieve great fortune and fame.
Meanwhile, their spouses described their fine houses
And how beautiful their children became.

The homecoming queen, who once had been lean,
Now weighed in at one-ninety-six.
The jocks who were there had all lost their hair,
And the cheerleaders could no longer do kicks.

No one had heard about the class nerd
Who'd guided a spacecraft to the moon;
Or poor little Jane, who's always been plain;
She married a shipping tycoon.

The boy we'd decreed "most apt to succeed"
Was serving ten years in the pen,
While the one voted "least" now was a priest;
Just shows you can be wrong now and then.

They awarded a prize to one of the guys
Who seemed to have aged the least.
Another was given to the grad who had driven
The farthest to attend the feast.

They took a class picture, a curious mixture
Of beehives, crew cuts and wide ties.
Tall, short, or skinny, the style was the mini;
You never saw so many thighs.

At our next get-together, no one cared whether
They impressed their classmates or not.
The mood was informal, a whole lot more normal;
By this time we'd all gone to pot.

It was held out-of-doors, at the lake shores;
We ate hamburgers, coleslaw, and beans.
Then most of us lay around in the shade,
In our comfortable T-shirts and jeans.

By the fortieth year, it was abundantly clear,
We were definitely over the hill.
Those who weren't dead had to crawl out of bed,
And be home in time for their pill.

And now I can't wait as they've set the date;
Our sixtieth is coming, I'm told.
It should be a ball, they've rented a hall
At the Shady Rest Home for the old.

Repairs have been made on my old hearing aid;
My pacemaker's been turned up on high.
My wheelchair is oiled, and my teeth have been boiled;
And I've bought a new wig and glass eye.

I'm feeling quite hearty; I'm ready to party,
I'll dance until dawn's early light.
It'll be lots of fun; and I hope at least one
Other person can make it that night.

-- Author Unknown