...About Old Friends

Last weekend was the occasion of the 50 Year Reunion of my high school graduating class. Let me say that again for dramatic impact. The 50th. Fifty. The Big Five-Oh. Fitty. 

It's really eye-opening to hit a milestone of that size. It, once again, makes you realize just how old you are! When you add the 18 years of age you were enjoying when you graduated, the shock sets in even deeper. When we were young, we never contemplated being this old. I have no recollection of ever having had a conscious thought about getting this old - where I would be; what I'd be doing. I suppose God doesn't push us on that because He knows it will hit us all soon enough. But... I digress. 

Held every 5 years, I have attended all of our reunions since the 20th, with the exception of the 45th. I have always gone especially to see a small handful of folks: Mark, Kurt, Mike, Leslie, and 1 or 2 more. Mike passed away a fair while back now; I haven't heard anything from or about Kurt in 10 years and he was absent this time; Mark is in LA taking care of a sick family member; Leslie did not attend. This left me a little anxious about whether or not I'd have a good time or feel a bit like a 5th wheel with no real landing spot. 

Who the hell was I kidding? 

It was "on" from the minute I walked in. I stopped at the check-in table, said Hello to Teresa, and immediately saw Steve. Steve and I have been friends since the 5th grade. He was always larger-than-life: handsome, very athletic (played football for Bear Bryant!), outgoing - he's been making girls swoon for many years. We grabbed and bear-hugged like you'd expect old friends to do. After chatting for a couple of minutes, it was non-stop! I saw friends I had not seen in 10 years, and I saw old friends I haven't seen in 50 years! Big hugs and lotsa laughs - over and over and over. Johnny, Buddy, Tricia, Jay, Malia, Joy, Larry, Lynn, Doug, Kathi, Robert, Ken, Beth, Robyn, Judy, Mike, Dorothy, Linda, Oscar, John, Pat, Kathy, Kim, Cathy, Jeff, Bonnie, Jan, Brenda, Lisa, Jimmy, Gary, Carol, Mary, Vicki, Sherry, and so many I'm leaving out. It was as if we all still live in the same neighborhood, attend the same churches, and go to the same skating rink! There were lots of folks I saw from across the room, but could never get over to see. I'm sad about that. 

Of course there was some sad reflection on the number of classmates who have passed away. More than 80. And a handful every year now it seems. There were somewhere around 450ish in our class. (That number varies depending on who you ask!) We had approximately 20% of that number at the event! It was great! Some were in a little better health than others, as would be expected, but I did not see one person there who did not look to be having a great time. I know I damn sure did! 

I now anxiously await the next reunion in five years. Some were talking about every 10 years - NO, NO, NO! It's gotta be every 5! We are getting too old to put anything off any longer! 

I thank God I made this one. Can't wait for another! I can only look this good for a little while longer! 

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...About Observations

Sometimes, I find that I notice and spend time thinking about some pretty interesting things. Most of which are not really worth wasting time over, but I give them a temporary lease. Often, the lessees are observations I make about one mundane thing or another. I put those observances in a category I call, "D'ja ever notice...?" 

For example - D'ja ever notice that Jeeps are a major cause of traffic aggravations? Morning traffic - easing along at a decent clip. One lane starts to become a good bit slower than the other. Dang! Go On! When you finally get the chance to change lanes and move around the pokies, the pokey lane leader is... a damn Jeep. Most often a Wrangler or a Rubicon, but even Grand Cherokees. Why? I've heard it's often because a Jeep, especially the off-road versions are hard to drive. Or maybe the drivers are just too self-absorbed to care about anyone else. I don't know. In all my years I've never driven a Jeep. Too tall to be comfortable. 

And what's up with the damn ducks on Jeeps? Why would you want to leave and - more importantly - why would I want you to leave a duck on my vehicle? Maybe that why Jeeps drive so slowly: waiting for a duck.  But... I digress. 

D'ja ever notice how your foot is directly attached to your eyes? You are driving down the road in the flow of traffic; maybe a few MPH over the speed limit. There's a Police car sitting on the side of the road. When you see it, your foot automatically lifts off the gas pedal just a little. You don't hit the brakes - that would be foolish and attract attention. Just ease off a touch to drop down to just above the posted speed. And then keep checking that mirror to make sure he hasn't joined the flow.  

D'ja ever notice how, when coming upon slowed traffic at an accident or some problem, men must slow down, turn down the music, and roll down the window to see better. It's 41º, 9 at night, drizzling rain, and you come upon an accident. Window down, music off, and slow down to figure it out... 'cause someone just might need your opinion of who is at fault.  

D'ja ever notice how some of the simplest things can cause the level of dust build-up in your eyes to increase? I'm not sure when it happened that I became a "softy." These days I can get a little moist-eyed at some of the smallest things. Seeing the beaming pride of a parent whose child just won the "such-a-thing." The parent of an elementary school student who drew a crayon picture that was selected as 1st Place in the school competition. Standing tall, chest out, smiling as big as a planet while their child is presented with a coupon for a free pizza. 

So many little things like these grab my notice and my feels these days. Maybe I notice them because I envy that parent's moment; or maybe because in our world right now, bad things are easy to spot, but special, seemingly small actions or events must be found. And it's those special, seemingly small actions or events that are what can help an old guy hold belief that maybe, just maybe the future will be in good hands. 

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...About the Rest of the Story

I told you before that my dad was a self-made man. I may not get all of these in order or exactly correctly said, but, he got a job with a travel company (Brownell Tours), then became a salesman for Xerox. He traveled a pretty fair amount and became (as I remember) quite successful and respected. Unknown to me, he was taking night classes at University of Alabama in Birmingham and graduated with a degree in accounting. He took a job as a staff accountant working in a basement office at UAB - one of those wide-open offices of many people at open desks. More night classes and earning another degree led to many years with UAB. He retired from UAB as the Comptroller for the UAB School of Dentistry. While all of the above occurred, he served as a strong leader in the church and as Representative/ then Assistant/ then Head Scoutmaster for the church Boy Scout troop. After retiring, he volunteered for SCORE - Senior Core Of Retired Executives. He touched many lives. Something we knew little about until his death. 

My mother worked back and forth between the telephone company and having baby boys. I mostly remember her being at home trying to wrangle three little ones. She was an excellent seamstress and made a lot of the clothes we three wore. Usually what was made was "times 3" - especially regarding PJs and slippers. PJs were sewn by her; slippers were knitted by her. There were often questions from acquaintances of whether or not we were triplets or, at least twins! Several years later, my sister was born. The joke was the TV must have been on the fritz! My mom cooked wonderfully. She kept an immaculate house. She was active in church organizations - especially in the choir often singing solos. Every Christmas, during Midnight Mass, she would sing 'O, Holy Night' solo. To this day, a beautiful rendition of it brings me to tears. 

If there were arguments between them I didn't know it. There were tough times when the budget was tight, but we never felt we did without. One Christmas we boys each received a backpack, a web belt, and an Army helmet liner from the Surplus Store (unknown to us), and a wooden rifle that had a gold wood bullet in it when the bolt was racked. And the trigger would 'click' when pulled. That's it. We were happy. We didn't understand why we couldn't have the newest toys the other kids had, but we were happy enough. 

Raising us 4 kids wasn't easy. It was hard as hell. I was always in some kind of mischief. We were all a pain. Those stories are for another time. 

My parents did the best they could. If you haven't noticed by now, their names were Dick and Jane. Yes. They/we heard all the joking questions about them being the stars of the Dick & Jane Learning-to-Read Series of books. Years later, my dad actually gave my mom the entire collection of Dick & Jane books as a Christmas gift! 

They loved to travel, which they did very often. They loved square dancing and were members of several clubs and travelled to conventions every year for many years. At 50 years of marriage, they renewed their vows in a huge family event. By 60 years together, age and illness had begun. My mom suffered severe rheumatoid arthritis. My dad was being overtaken by pulmonary fibrosis. She became his total caregiver. She never complained as her ability to have a life of her own was overtaken. At 62 years of marriage, and age 85, my father passed away in his bed at home. 

For the first time in her entire life my mother was alone. She was living with her mom and dad when they met. She married and moved in with her new husband. Until he passed away, she had never been alone. 

She began to breathe again. After two years of intense, all-consuming caregiving, she began to go to church again. To see her friends again. But she was 88 years old and frail. At one point she fell and had to be rushed to the hospital. It would be the last time she lived in her home. It was recognized that she could not live alone again. After her hospital stay, she went to rehab, moved right into assisted care, and soon was frail enough that she was moved to hospice care. Two years after dad died, my mother passed away. I am truly convinced that she died from a lonely heart. My father, the only man she ever loved, was gone. At age 90, she would now go to be with him in Heaven. My father died May 5th, 2016. My mother died March 6th, 2018. 

I think of them every single day. I miss them. I am crying as I finish this. It wasn't always perfect growing up, but it was later on. I look forward to the day when I see them again. 

Rest easy, Dick & Jane! We all miss you and love you. 

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...About USO Dances

The United Services Organizations (USO) formed in February 1941 under President Franklin D. Roosevelt to facilitate on-leave recreation for the United States armed forces during World War II. It existed until after the Korean War. Its participating organizations, largely run by volunteers, hosted dances, community socials, and luncheons and provided services such as clubrooms, free coffee and doughnuts, and religious counsel.

USO Dances were, generally, the most widely-known service by the public. Dances were often standing-room-only events. They allowed Service Members the opportunity to unwind and relax, and non-Service Members the chance to mingle and enjoy the attention of a soldier, sailor, or pilot away from home! It wasn't meant to be a debaucherous hookup. Just the occasion to relax, perhaps have a coffee, dance, and relieve some of the stress of military duty.

While my dad was stationed at Ft. McClellan, he became good friends with Gordon. One time, Gordon asked Dick to join him in going to the USO Dance that weekend in Birmingham. Gordon's girlfriend, Gertrude, had a friend that would be perfect for Dick. Dick declined at first, but Gordon convinced him to go. After all, Gordon would have little time with Gertrude if her friend was hanging around. So, Dick went. He had a terrible time and resolved he would never go again.

A short time later, Gordon again approached Dick to go with him to the dance. And, again, Dick relented and went with him. At the dance, Gertrude's next "friend for Dick" didn't show up and Dick met Gertrude's friend Jane. The two hit it off and, after a short time, became an item. The time frame is a little unknown to me but suffice to say they were in love and got married! 

So did Gordon and Gertrude. They all stayed close friends for the rest of their lives!   

Next - We'll look at their lives together. My mom and dad; not Gordon and Gertrude. 

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...About My Mom

My mother was born in Birmingham, AL. She, her five brothers and sisters, and Grandmother and Papa lived a modest life. According to my mom, they didn't have a lot of money. In fact, there were times when money was tight enough that children still living at home contributed a large portion of their work-wages to help pay the bills. 

Papa worked for a meat company and would, from time to time, travel to help make sales of meat and associated products. Papa passed away when I was about 10. I don't have many memories of him, except that I was, generally, scared of him. I don't know why. The only real memory I have was that, every Sunday we went to their house to visit. Dinner was light. The children were put in the den where the TV was. The "Grumps" (grown-ups) were around the dining room table. We were given 4 crackers and cheese and one 8 oz glass of Coca Cola on ice. The only time we were allowed to have Coke! I recall (only once) having the nerve to go into the dining room to the Grump table to ask for seconds of crackers and cheese and Papa yelling "GIT!" I don't recall ever going back! We watched The Wonderful World of Disney on TV. In fact, it was there that we saw the very first color TV. It was Disney's The Wonderful World of Color! But... I digress. 

My mother worked for the (Bell) Telephone Company and was quite pretty and friendly. She was a telephone operator and, thinking back, I remember her always having had a sweet, friendly voice. Though there are not a lot of adventure stories about her life, I do know that she enjoyed going out with her sisters and girlfriends when possible. This often included going to the local USO dance! 

We'll talk about the USO dance and what it brought about. Stay with me! 

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...About My Dad

So I mentioned in our last visit that I had lost both my parents in the last several years. I feel like it might be time to talk about them a little. This will take a few blogs. I hope you'll go with me. 

My father was born in Macomb, Illinois. A small place that I remember only small things about. My Grandma worked at a ceramic-ware company. I knew the name once, but it escapes me now. As best as I remember, his father bailed when he was young, and Grandma, and her 3 kids (Joan [pronounced Jo-Ann], Don, and my dad, Richard, who went by Dick) were poor and had to work hard to make it. Joan died when we kids were pretty young to cancer. Don and his family lived in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Until I was 15, every-other year our family would pack up and drive to Illinois for a few days, and then to Michigan for a few days on vacation. The other years, they would all come south to our place. 

There are 4 of us children - Danny, me, and David (one year apart each), and our sister Anne (six years younger than me). Depending on who you are talking to, stories and feelings about my dad vary. We all have differing remembrances and stories. Some of them are good and some bad. Some paint a less-than-wonderful picture of dad. Some stories are told with a sense of hatred. Most of my personal stories are not hate-filled, but reflect an understanding that we didn't necessarily agree on much. Though we were generally at odds and I didn't like him much, I don't recall that I hated him. I think I just wanted to be allowed to do what I wanted because certainly I was smart enough to make my own decisions about my life and didn't need his control. 

It is imperative that we remember things were hugely different in that time in history. Relationships with your parents weren't based on being friends. Your parents had it rough and that was just the way it was. It was quite true then that "Children were meant to be seen, not heard." Much later in life, I remember my father told me, "We didn't have a manual. We struggled to know what to do and just did the best we knew how." I have admitted for many years now that "the older I get, the smarter he was!"  But, I digress...  

In my grown life, I have always described my dad as a truly self-made man. He had limited opportunities while young. Money was tight; sometimes there just wasn't much at all. One story I remember from him was that there was a time when the four of them in his family were living in someone's garage, and hung a sheet on a rope across the middle of the garage to make two rooms. I have never had to live like that. At a point, he joined the Army and ultimately went to OCS and became a 2nd Lieutenant. He was stationed at Ft. McClellan, AL in the 1950s. It would be during his time there that he would have the occasion to attend a USO dance or two that would forever change his life.

We will let him hang right there for now while we talk about my mom. And THAT will be our next blog entry! Please stay tuned! 

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