It was a hot, humid night in Hampton. You know, like when you're in hurricane season and the air has that heavy, moisture-laden feeling as you breathe it into your lungs. It was dark that night, except for the occasional flash of heat lightning that lit up the sky for a brief instant and quickly faded leaving only its snaky after-image on the backs of my eyeballs. I pulled into the Crowne Plaza parking garage and felt a heightening of my senses as I pushed the button and took my ticket from the automated attendant. Kind of like everything in me went taut for a minute and then relaxed. I always felt like this on a job; a little keyed up. But, it helped me to keep my wits and eyes sharp. I continued driving up the concrete ramps wondering at every twist and turn when my contact would appear and how I'd recognize him.
I drove up to the third floor and found a place well away from the other cars. I quickly did a 360 and scanned the periphery like a radar beacon. Front, side, back, side, and back to the front. It looked clear so I got out, retrieved my weapons from the back, and slapped them into the appropriate hiding places in my clothing and on my body in just a few seconds. Long practice made quick work of it. I always felt safer armed; it pays to be prepared. And with what little I knew about my assignment tonight, I could be in for some real trouble with the group I had to meet.
The parking garage looked relatively empty, only a few cars . . . and no people. But I wouldn't make the mistake of assuming that was the ground truth. Warily, I got out the rest of my equipment and started for the elevator. I pushed the Down button and the door opened. Inside, leaning up against the rail was a sultry, buxom redhead with red, red pouting lips and a low-cut silken blouse hanging way down off one shoulder. She wore large golden-hooped earrings that swayed tantalizingly as she moved her head and one fishnet-stockinged leg stuck out a graceful angle through the high slit in her flaring linen skirt. I walked in. She half-turned her head to me gave me a sidelong glance with a hint of a smile. The rose stuck behind her left ear was as red as those full, moist, pouting, sensuous lips and her perfume was so alluring, so beguiling . . . I couldn't look away from those lips. The door closed on us and we were alone. I leaned forward, took her by the waist, and roughly pulled her toward me. Her arms came up around my neck and those red, red lips got closer and closer to mine until they met each other half-way. Her eyes were closed to mere slits but I kept mine partially open and on her as we kissed all during the ride down. The car came to rest with a thump! on the first floor and the door opened.
With her arms still around my neck, she pulled her body up close to mine and whispered in my ear "I'm Sherrita." She was good. Oh, she was real good. But I've been around the racetrack more than a couple of times and I know another agent when I see one. Particularly one I've encountered before, no matter how well disguised she is this time. I put my hands up and jerked her arms away and down from my neck and out to her sides. Funny. One of her hands had a thin silver blade in it now . . . which had been aimed at the base of my skull. "That wasn't there before." I squeezed her wrist mercilessly. The muscles spasmed and she dropped the knife. It clattered onto the elevator floor until it finally came to rest and I kicked it farther away from us into the corner.
She was breathing hard now and I could see a light sheen of sweat had formed on her skin. She glared defiantly back at me. "You Americaines! You and and your puppet states you control! You weel nevaire ween against us!"
I did the only thing I could do; I had to do. I pressed the "Door Close" button with my elbow keeping my eyes locked with her fierce glare. The sliding door made contact with the wall and I forced her forearms to behind the small of her back and held them there tightly. "We've met before." I said in a low voice. "It was in Budapest, three years ago. You were a blonde that night and said your name was 'Maritza.' But you see, I never forget a kiss." Cruelly, I brought my mouth down to hers again and crushed her lips with mine. In a searing blast of animal heat, we came together and devoured each other.
An eternity later, the elevator door opened and we both realized with a start what had happened to us. We'd been transported, blissfully unaware of the world around us for one brief moment in time. Quickly, we collected ourselves and backed away from each other our hands at the ready. I looked at her. She looked at me. She half-turned her body away from me toward the door and then swung her face back in my direction. She reached one hand up to her mouth, raised her eyes to mine, and made a kissing motion onto her fingertips. She reached that hand up to my mouth and delivered the kiss, then abruptly turned away from me and walked out of the elevator. Allowing herself one backward glance, her eyes told me the goodbye her lips could not.
"Is it 'Sherrita' or is it 'Maritza?'" I laughingly asked, pitched low so that it wouldn't carry.
She stopped and turned her head toward me and said "Maybee ze next time I succeed, eh? I may be told to kee-e-eel you next time . . . not just toooo delay you toooo make you toooo late to meet up weez your contact. Ha ha ha ha!" With a toss of her head, she turned and was away from me into the cover of the night. It didn't matter. Something told me that I was going to see 'Sherrita' or 'Maritza' again. The danger she represented was like a narcotic to me. I wanted more. And my contact would stick around until he met me . . . that is, unless he ended up dead. Which was precisely what I wanted to prevent. We'd worked on many cases together in the past. Not the Budapest caper, though. My contact that time . . . didn't make it. I found him at the rendezvous point floating face down in the river - a knife sticking out of his back.
I made my way through the crowd in the plaza and went into the hotel. I saw him immediately. He was in a disguise and was "working" behind the reception desk. I supposed that the REAL hotel clerk was probably bound and gagged somewhere nearby in a back room while Pablo "took his place" for a little while. We briefly made eye contact and then we both looked away as though we'd never seen each other before. To the casual observer though, nothing would have been detected. I approached the desk and put my hand up on the counter and rubbed two fingers together. He saw my signal to confirm my identity. Body doubles have been used before, you know. He nodded in acknowledgement and said so low that only I could hear "They're meeting in a place called the Dockside Ballroom." and pointed with his eyes outside and then to the left.
Acknowledging his instructions with a narrowing of my eyes, I went back out into the balmy air amidst the throng of summer revelers. They come down here from the cold places hoping for a little sun and fun. But they were blissfully unaware of how close to danger they were at that very minute. I picked my way through them to the beginnings of the Hampton docks and took the first left turn. The boats creaked and swayed in their moorings in the current to my right as I walked down the dimly lit dock and I could hear the slap of the Hampton River against the hulls and a bell clanging a long way off. "The Dockside Ballroom." I thought to myself as I carefully made my way through the fog; one hand ready to reach for a weapon if the need arose. "What sort of hellish place will that be?"
I could see several suspicious-looking characters ahead of me in the fog but they slunk away from the light one by one. Usual port scum, I've seen them from Vladivostok to San Francisco. They're all the same. If they sense you're not intimidated, they look for easier prey.
There it was. I could see it through the fog. "The Dockside Ballroom."
I carefully looked around me for people looking where I didn't want them to look and then tried the door. It was unlocked and I went in. It was a ballroom alright. An empty ballroom. Dark with just one light hanging over a large sqaure marble table in the middle of the floor. A big table with tall, high-backed chairs around it on all four sides. I could see who I already knew were some of the world's most dangerous secret operatives, famous scientists, and influential power brokers already seated at the table all dressed in identical hooded robes. They all turned warily at my entrance and they took my measure as I walked across the empty ballroom, my shoes making an odd staccato sound on the floor, to an empty chair at the table where I boldly took a seat. I spoke to no one. I probed their cowls pulled low over their faces; the glint of a watchful eye here, an abrupt turn of a head there. Several more robed people quickly came in from other hidden entrances and all of the chairs were soon full.
When all had arrived that they were apparently expecting, they pushed their hoods back, joined hands, and began to chant in what I thought I recognized as the ancient Etruscan tongue. I was part of the circle, clasping hands with the people on either side of me! I felt a current of electricity shoot into one hand, across my chest, down my other arm, and out through my hand to the person next to me. Somehow I remembered reading somewhere that the Etruscans, a shadowy civilization in ancient Italia that pre-dated the founding of Rome, worshipped the lightning! Or to be more exact, one who had been struck by lightning. The secret meeting had begun.
Jolt after electric jolt - Lightning! - circled around the room from one person to another. Faster and faster now, the chanting increasing in intensity. The table opened up and a brilliant, light-emitting orb rose out of its middle and hovered - gravity defying - above the table. It glowed brighter and brighter, electricity flashing around it like a Tesla coil. At a word from the leader, the circle was broken all around the table. The hypnotic chanting and ritual now over, all took their seats and the meeting began in earnest under the baleful influence of the glowing orb. I scrutinized each face in turn as the meeting progressed. I study faces, part of the job. That's just the way I am; I look at people when they're talking to someone else and watch their movements, study their mannerisms.
Now they were going around the room and each person was saying apparently totally unrelated things, like it was a code of some sort with pre-arranged meanings for seeming random words and phrases. I didn't understand a word of any of it. Obviously, I wasn't MEANT to understand. I was just the courier. And now it was my turn. I said the words I had had to memorize "Gort! Klaatu barada nikto!" I saw several at the table exchange barely concealed looks. Whatever it was that I said, it must have been what they wanted to hear. The person to my right said the words that I had been programmed to expect, "Have you tested this theory?" And I gave him the pre-arranged response "I find it works well enough to get me from one planet to another." They all nodded at me and visibly relaxed. My bona fides had been accepted. I was the messenger they'd been waiting for. Any response other than the one I'd received, I would have had to get out quick. Blasting my way out if I had to. I don't want to even think what they'd have done to ME if I had given the wrong response. I opened the case I'd brought with me and took out the laptop I had been given at Headquarters.
I stepped away to the wall and powered up the computer. It hummed oddly and began to emit a pulsing, unearthly glow. One of the robed ones at the table arose and silently approached me. He came to a stop two paces in front of me and slowly opened his clenched fist - he had a flash drive in his open palm. But not like any flash drive I had ever seen before. It glowed with an inner fire like . . like a star had been captured and placed inside it. He communicated to me via telepathy that I was to put the flash drive into the computer that I had brought. Special components in one would activate or "awaken" components in the other that might - in the wrong hands - set off a chain reaction that could destroy the Earth and most of the galaxy!
"What?"
"Me daydreaming at the Reunion meeting?"
"No, Mr. Cronau. Umm, I mean Bonnie. Umm. Yes. We had thirteen new classmate registrations last week."
Sigh. Just like when I was back in Mr. Cronau's Algebra class in the 11th grade. I can dream can't I?
Friday, August 21, 2009
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
OMG, I just found "Show Yearbook Photo" . . .
LMAO! Have any of you pitiful few who read this tried out the "Show Yearbook Photo" button yet? I think I looked at it long ago when I was evaluating whether or not we wanted to buy into this system, this engine through which we bring you the Reunion website and all it's fabled wonders but I had forgotten about it. If you haven't, do try it. At least try it out on the "Attending Reunion" list. Now that we have a bigger group identified to attend the Reunion (although not all have registered which is worrisome) we are starting to see something coalesce. And having a picture of every person who's going to attend would be quite enlightening. If you haven't tried it, the system will build a page of yearbook photos of everyone who's signed up to go. Now how cool is that? Does everyone else see it? I have different permissions from all of you (except, of course, Debby Rimmer nelson who's my back-up. Back-up. Ha! Debby can sling code with the best of them.) and I forget what the users see. Hmm. I think that it should become a priority to post a yearbook for every person who has signed up to attend. The rest maybe can be filled out a little bit at a time.
The product that we use, by the way, is called Classcreater.com and . . . well you can see what capabilities using it has brought to the table. That first website we had, that kludged-up code I slung out onto a server? Ha! You're lucky I was able to give you what you had; I was hand-jamming code and names into that system on a daily basis. But this product? I have no complaints. I am able to bring things on-line with a mere "click" of a button and it happens, just like that. (See, Bonnie thinks I know more about it than I really do . . . let's just let her keep on believing that.) Truly, I would heartily recommend ClassCreater.com for any of you who might need a system like this. And did I mention that we don't pay ANYTHING for this? We could, it is true, buy an upgrade for about $100 a year that would put us in a position to bring even MORE on-line with an enhanced package. They're bringing on new stuff every two-three months or so and I'm pretty impressed so far. With such a wide range of applications to use, we do lose a lot in the way of customization though. I mean, there's some real estate (sorry, programmer-talk) I just can't touch. But I wish I could change that awful GREEN theme color. I'd rather see something a little more on the hip side. What do y'all think? I may change it anyway and then ask for feedback.
But people, please don't look at our class website as a done deal when the Reunion's over. I would expect that there'd be a great deal of interest in maintaining it for quite some time. We've established lines of communication that many thought were only pleasant memories. With this simple, free engine we have spun a very elaboate, but quite efficient network of all those people that we can contact. You see, we've gone global this time. I see that the simple email system we use here on the site really gets a lot of use. I send out a lot myself; but mostly an ash and trash detail having to do with the site. (At first I tried very hard to send out a message to everybody when they registered but got quickly overwhelmed and somehow just . . . stopped. I really need to get back into that.) A lot of other people are using it too. Now that we can connect so easily, what's to stop a group of people in California from having a small Reunion out there or one in North Carolina? There certainly seem to be a lot of our clasmates who live there. Maybe I should go and look at the map again on the home page. Isn't that cool? Just another automatic function we get to use here. Nah. I'm to lazy to flip to that window and break my train of thought. . . . stream of consciousness . . . Mr. Taylor would have called it.
Pictures. THAT'S the task I really need some help on. I joke about how much of this is just a choice on a menu, but there really is a lot of work associated with it and I'm kept quite busy. I really could use an offer from someone to scan pictures out the yearbooks for me so I can post to the classmate profiles. Someone who knows their way around a scanner because I need hi-res and all the same size, resolution, and "look," with maybe some PhotoShop thrown in if necessary. They could be emailed to me a little bit at a time so I can post them. If there's anyone out there who'd like to take this on, it would be greatly appreciated.
I did say at the beginning of this blog that this was going to be a way for you to see behind the scenes at what goes on to put the Reunion together. Here's what happens at a typical meeting: we meet say, every couple of weeks and go through an agenda of action items and report submissions on new members, Reunion registrations, checks received, review the contract with the hotel, the contract with the band, raffle ticket sales, $$ in the bank accounts, and so on. Oh yeah, there's a lot to keep track of. Last meeting we addressed and stuffed envelopes with flyers and sent them out to lost classmates' last known addresses. (LOL, if you're reading this blog don't expect to get one. We know where YOU are.) We haven't had a meeting since I started writing this so there's not been anything to report. We have a meeting coming up soon I think. Bonnie keeps us all up on when and where to meet. Maybe we should include a copy of the agendas on here from now on. Anybody interested in seeing them?
But at the next meeting, I have an idea I'm going to propose. I'm not going to say what it is but I'm going to push hard for something I think will be a smash hit if I can get Reunion Committee buy-in and cooperation. Trust me! You'll love it!
But I've rambled on here long enough. Next time.
LMAO! Have any of you pitiful few who read this tried out the "Show Yearbook Photo" button yet? I think I looked at it long ago when I was evaluating whether or not we wanted to buy into this system, this engine through which we bring you the Reunion website and all it's fabled wonders but I had forgotten about it. If you haven't, do try it. At least try it out on the "Attending Reunion" list. Now that we have a bigger group identified to attend the Reunion (although not all have registered which is worrisome) we are starting to see something coalesce. And having a picture of every person who's going to attend would be quite enlightening. If you haven't tried it, the system will build a page of yearbook photos of everyone who's signed up to go. Now how cool is that? Does everyone else see it? I have different permissions from all of you (except, of course, Debby Rimmer nelson who's my back-up. Back-up. Ha! Debby can sling code with the best of them.) and I forget what the users see. Hmm. I think that it should become a priority to post a yearbook for every person who has signed up to attend. The rest maybe can be filled out a little bit at a time.
The product that we use, by the way, is called Classcreater.com and . . . well you can see what capabilities using it has brought to the table. That first website we had, that kludged-up code I slung out onto a server? Ha! You're lucky I was able to give you what you had; I was hand-jamming code and names into that system on a daily basis. But this product? I have no complaints. I am able to bring things on-line with a mere "click" of a button and it happens, just like that. (See, Bonnie thinks I know more about it than I really do . . . let's just let her keep on believing that.) Truly, I would heartily recommend ClassCreater.com for any of you who might need a system like this. And did I mention that we don't pay ANYTHING for this? We could, it is true, buy an upgrade for about $100 a year that would put us in a position to bring even MORE on-line with an enhanced package. They're bringing on new stuff every two-three months or so and I'm pretty impressed so far. With such a wide range of applications to use, we do lose a lot in the way of customization though. I mean, there's some real estate (sorry, programmer-talk) I just can't touch. But I wish I could change that awful GREEN theme color. I'd rather see something a little more on the hip side. What do y'all think? I may change it anyway and then ask for feedback.
But people, please don't look at our class website as a done deal when the Reunion's over. I would expect that there'd be a great deal of interest in maintaining it for quite some time. We've established lines of communication that many thought were only pleasant memories. With this simple, free engine we have spun a very elaboate, but quite efficient network of all those people that we can contact. You see, we've gone global this time. I see that the simple email system we use here on the site really gets a lot of use. I send out a lot myself; but mostly an ash and trash detail having to do with the site. (At first I tried very hard to send out a message to everybody when they registered but got quickly overwhelmed and somehow just . . . stopped. I really need to get back into that.) A lot of other people are using it too. Now that we can connect so easily, what's to stop a group of people in California from having a small Reunion out there or one in North Carolina? There certainly seem to be a lot of our clasmates who live there. Maybe I should go and look at the map again on the home page. Isn't that cool? Just another automatic function we get to use here. Nah. I'm to lazy to flip to that window and break my train of thought. . . . stream of consciousness . . . Mr. Taylor would have called it.
Pictures. THAT'S the task I really need some help on. I joke about how much of this is just a choice on a menu, but there really is a lot of work associated with it and I'm kept quite busy. I really could use an offer from someone to scan pictures out the yearbooks for me so I can post to the classmate profiles. Someone who knows their way around a scanner because I need hi-res and all the same size, resolution, and "look," with maybe some PhotoShop thrown in if necessary. They could be emailed to me a little bit at a time so I can post them. If there's anyone out there who'd like to take this on, it would be greatly appreciated.
I did say at the beginning of this blog that this was going to be a way for you to see behind the scenes at what goes on to put the Reunion together. Here's what happens at a typical meeting: we meet say, every couple of weeks and go through an agenda of action items and report submissions on new members, Reunion registrations, checks received, review the contract with the hotel, the contract with the band, raffle ticket sales, $$ in the bank accounts, and so on. Oh yeah, there's a lot to keep track of. Last meeting we addressed and stuffed envelopes with flyers and sent them out to lost classmates' last known addresses. (LOL, if you're reading this blog don't expect to get one. We know where YOU are.) We haven't had a meeting since I started writing this so there's not been anything to report. We have a meeting coming up soon I think. Bonnie keeps us all up on when and where to meet. Maybe we should include a copy of the agendas on here from now on. Anybody interested in seeing them?
But at the next meeting, I have an idea I'm going to propose. I'm not going to say what it is but I'm going to push hard for something I think will be a smash hit if I can get Reunion Committee buy-in and cooperation. Trust me! You'll love it!
But I've rambled on here long enough. Next time.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Third Post
60 is the new 40.
It's the typical story. First it's the career. Then comes marriage, followed by kids. Your time is no longer your own, and you resign yourself to "maturity," "filling out" or whatever euphemism for middle age that gives you what passes for peace of mind. My experience with this was during a 20 year Army career. And then I retired in 1996 and soon fell into the trap. Since I didn't HAVE to do any exercise, I didn't. Fast forward to 2006 . . . I was visiting some friends in Wilmington, NC and we had gone to an International House of Pancakes (like I NEEDED any pancakes, LOL). Gene stood up and took a picture of Anita, Cheryl, and I at the table . . . our food came and we ate and ate and ate. I came back up here and Gene had emailed me the picture thinking maybe I'd like to have it as a reminder of the great visit we all had (old Army buds, maybe some of you will understand.) I opened it up and there I was in all my megapixel glory . . . at 225 pounds. It felt like a sledgehammer blow to my chest. I was stunned at seeing those little piggy eyes set in my bloated face above about three chins. I was overweight, unfit, and unhealthy.
So I did something about it. It was pretty hard work and it didn't happen overnight, but I have whittled off about 65 pounds now. I feel better, I sure as hell hope I LOOK better, and I have more energy to combat the twin evils of an embattled family on the home front (oh yeah, my life sucks) and working in a &^%$ 'ing war zone Monday through Friday. So yeah, 60 is the new 40. And I'm okay with that. I'm a better, leaner, smarter Jerry than I was before. Just because I'm "getting" old doesn't mean I have to "be" old. You'd be surprised at the "interests" that been revived for me since I started taking better care of myself. I don't subscribe to the "Live to eat." school of thought anymore, for me it's now "Eat to live." I'm not quite 60 yet . . . two more years to go . . . but I think I'm going to make it. You be 40 too.
Men and women in the industrialized countries (that's US, folks) are now living into our 80's with bodies that are designed to last between 40 - 50 years or so. Any physicians out there who'd like to argue that point are welcome to correct me. So we as a group are already past the "higher end" of the old life span scale and have dropped into the gray zone between 50 and 80-ish (the apparent "upper end" of the new life span scale.) Lifestyle will come into play here in a major way . . . so all that deep-fried Southern cuisine we all know and love could mean that we're literally digging our graves with our teeth. (WHAT an image THAT conjures up!) So the bod will let YOU down if you let IT down.
But what about our mental acuity? You know what? It's not just about keeping yourself fit and occupied . . . it's about letting your hair down and going to one hell of a good party from time to time. And let's face it, how many more times in our lives can we expect to have an opportunity like the one that will present itself in October of this year - the 40th and 41st Reunions for the 1969 and 1968 classes. People, this is going to be THE party and you shouldn't miss it. It is my sincere hope that it is so much fun that the Police have to come check it out . . . twice. If even HALF of what we envision comes to pass, there won't be an unsatisfied person in the house.
It's all about being uplifted. That's it is a nut shell. And I do not intend any religious overtones when I use that word as the descriptor. Is there anyone out there who couldn't use a smashing good time? Alcohol, as always, is optional. And let me elaborate on why I think that attending the Reunion will be such a positive experience for everyone; you're going to be around people that you knew when you were young and will be around your very own age. You're going to feel younger just being with the old crowd again. Now what's that worth to you?
And we know that people are thinking about coming . . . there's a sort of "smell" in the air about the Reunion . . . kind of like when a new Broadway play opening in Newhaven is said to have "legs." I got a call the other day asking if we knew what kind of food we'd be serving. And that's a good question. For what we have to charge for the Saturday Night event (we need a name for that. ASAP), I'd ask what kind of food we'd be having too. This particular caller was concerned that it might be seafood. Well, the answer is that we're not having a sit-down dinner; it's what the women on the Committee (henceforth known as "The Women") tell me is called heavy hors d' (*&^%, now I have to stop and look it up) hors d'oeuvres. There. I said it. So the answer is there'll be a lot of everything so you can take your pick. And dancing. Oh-h-h-h! Will there be dancing!
Speaking of an "uplifting" experience check this out this YouTube video of a recent wedding in Minnesota . . . and crank up the volume.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4-94JhLEiN0
It's the typical story. First it's the career. Then comes marriage, followed by kids. Your time is no longer your own, and you resign yourself to "maturity," "filling out" or whatever euphemism for middle age that gives you what passes for peace of mind. My experience with this was during a 20 year Army career. And then I retired in 1996 and soon fell into the trap. Since I didn't HAVE to do any exercise, I didn't. Fast forward to 2006 . . . I was visiting some friends in Wilmington, NC and we had gone to an International House of Pancakes (like I NEEDED any pancakes, LOL). Gene stood up and took a picture of Anita, Cheryl, and I at the table . . . our food came and we ate and ate and ate. I came back up here and Gene had emailed me the picture thinking maybe I'd like to have it as a reminder of the great visit we all had (old Army buds, maybe some of you will understand.) I opened it up and there I was in all my megapixel glory . . . at 225 pounds. It felt like a sledgehammer blow to my chest. I was stunned at seeing those little piggy eyes set in my bloated face above about three chins. I was overweight, unfit, and unhealthy.
So I did something about it. It was pretty hard work and it didn't happen overnight, but I have whittled off about 65 pounds now. I feel better, I sure as hell hope I LOOK better, and I have more energy to combat the twin evils of an embattled family on the home front (oh yeah, my life sucks) and working in a &^%$ 'ing war zone Monday through Friday. So yeah, 60 is the new 40. And I'm okay with that. I'm a better, leaner, smarter Jerry than I was before. Just because I'm "getting" old doesn't mean I have to "be" old. You'd be surprised at the "interests" that been revived for me since I started taking better care of myself. I don't subscribe to the "Live to eat." school of thought anymore, for me it's now "Eat to live." I'm not quite 60 yet . . . two more years to go . . . but I think I'm going to make it. You be 40 too.
Men and women in the industrialized countries (that's US, folks) are now living into our 80's with bodies that are designed to last between 40 - 50 years or so. Any physicians out there who'd like to argue that point are welcome to correct me. So we as a group are already past the "higher end" of the old life span scale and have dropped into the gray zone between 50 and 80-ish (the apparent "upper end" of the new life span scale.) Lifestyle will come into play here in a major way . . . so all that deep-fried Southern cuisine we all know and love could mean that we're literally digging our graves with our teeth. (WHAT an image THAT conjures up!) So the bod will let YOU down if you let IT down.
But what about our mental acuity? You know what? It's not just about keeping yourself fit and occupied . . . it's about letting your hair down and going to one hell of a good party from time to time. And let's face it, how many more times in our lives can we expect to have an opportunity like the one that will present itself in October of this year - the 40th and 41st Reunions for the 1969 and 1968 classes. People, this is going to be THE party and you shouldn't miss it. It is my sincere hope that it is so much fun that the Police have to come check it out . . . twice. If even HALF of what we envision comes to pass, there won't be an unsatisfied person in the house.
It's all about being uplifted. That's it is a nut shell. And I do not intend any religious overtones when I use that word as the descriptor. Is there anyone out there who couldn't use a smashing good time? Alcohol, as always, is optional. And let me elaborate on why I think that attending the Reunion will be such a positive experience for everyone; you're going to be around people that you knew when you were young and will be around your very own age. You're going to feel younger just being with the old crowd again. Now what's that worth to you?
And we know that people are thinking about coming . . . there's a sort of "smell" in the air about the Reunion . . . kind of like when a new Broadway play opening in Newhaven is said to have "legs." I got a call the other day asking if we knew what kind of food we'd be serving. And that's a good question. For what we have to charge for the Saturday Night event (we need a name for that. ASAP), I'd ask what kind of food we'd be having too. This particular caller was concerned that it might be seafood. Well, the answer is that we're not having a sit-down dinner; it's what the women on the Committee (henceforth known as "The Women") tell me is called heavy hors d' (*&^%, now I have to stop and look it up) hors d'oeuvres. There. I said it. So the answer is there'll be a lot of everything so you can take your pick. And dancing. Oh-h-h-h! Will there be dancing!
Speaking of an "uplifting" experience check this out this YouTube video of a recent wedding in Minnesota . . . and crank up the volume.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4-94JhLEiN0
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Second Post
Ha! had to play around with the Blogger.com and the ClassCreator.com code for quite a while before I was able to get this to embed properly. Now we're cooking with gas!
But back to planning the Reunion . . .
We have plans to have have a photographer on site who will take individual or group shots against a background . . . in addition to the panoramic photo we always do. Now how cool would it be for three (or more) women who were best buds (or Sorority sisters) to have a group photo taken at the Saturday night event? Or three men? Or whatever combination you can come up with? I think that we should have a videographer too. Then we can capture short interviews and/or greetings and post them to YouTube for those that are too strung out (LOL - geographically speaking) to attend the Reunion in person.
We have quite a diverse group on the Committee. Bonnie Bridger Mittelmaier (69) and George Nichols (68) are the co-heads and are ably assisted by:
Yours truly (Jerry Quinn) (69)
Pam Mauld Strahorn-Roe (69)
Paul Roe (69)
Al Mittelmaier (68)
Vonnie Bertoci Wray (69)
Irene Fowler Griffin (69)
Anne Hundley Rutherford (69)
Dorothy Harris Silverthorn (68)
Fred Eubanks (68)
Bill Wilson (68)
Andrea Cantrell (69)
Linda Harris Morrisette (69)
Gayle English Cozzens (68)
We're all determined to make this the finest Reunion celebration that ever was. Don't miss out!
But back to planning the Reunion . . .
We have plans to have have a photographer on site who will take individual or group shots against a background . . . in addition to the panoramic photo we always do. Now how cool would it be for three (or more) women who were best buds (or Sorority sisters) to have a group photo taken at the Saturday night event? Or three men? Or whatever combination you can come up with? I think that we should have a videographer too. Then we can capture short interviews and/or greetings and post them to YouTube for those that are too strung out (LOL - geographically speaking) to attend the Reunion in person.
We have quite a diverse group on the Committee. Bonnie Bridger Mittelmaier (69) and George Nichols (68) are the co-heads and are ably assisted by:
Yours truly (Jerry Quinn) (69)
Pam Mauld Strahorn-Roe (69)
Paul Roe (69)
Al Mittelmaier (68)
Vonnie Bertoci Wray (69)
Irene Fowler Griffin (69)
Anne Hundley Rutherford (69)
Dorothy Harris Silverthorn (68)
Fred Eubanks (68)
Bill Wilson (68)
Andrea Cantrell (69)
Linda Harris Morrisette (69)
Gayle English Cozzens (68)
We're all determined to make this the finest Reunion celebration that ever was. Don't miss out!
First Post
First entry in yet another stopping place in the blogosphere. Blogs. Who would have thought back then that there would be such a thing as a blog? But I'm starting one now as a venue to keep you abreast of what's going on behind the scenes to make the upcoming Reunion something to remember. I'm going for an aimless, stream-of-consciousness ramble down through the processes. Join me if you like. We'll see how long I can keep this up.
If you were able to attend the last Reunion, you'll have a better appreciation for what we have planned for the party we have planned for October. Fun, but not quite free-form either. There'll be something for everybody; a Friday nite come-as-you-are at the outdoor bar at the Crowne Plaza hotel, and an elegant, dressed-up-to-the-nines party on Saturday night. There's a Sunday Buffet planned . . . but figure the odds after the bash we plan for the night before. We haven't really gotten much farther than that in actually planning the events; there WILL be a theme, we WILL work with the hotel catering staff and finalize all that (a good five meetings on just the food, I'm sure), HOW we want the rooms arranged, all that.
That's the easy part. The REAL work is in lining up a place to have the Reunion and working out THOSE details . . . and finding a band. One night at a Committee Meeting when the band was up for discussion for about the 4000 th time, I actually said to one of the women - I think maybe it was Andrea Cantrell - "What would happen if I suggested that we just dont have a band?" LOL. The look I got in return left no doubt in my mind what the answer to my question would be. Men, the women on the Committee are the driving force behind all this so there WILL be a band. Okay? Which means that there WILL be dancing. I know. At our age. But there's just no help for it so get over it You ought to hear the discussions on the dance floor area. I mean, my first inclination was that - if we have to dance - what's wrong with just the carpet? One thing I have learned over the years is to learn from my mistakes . . . and I wasn't forgetting the one I made over the band so this time I just kept my mouth shut. Did you know that you have to have things called "squares?" Apparently the interlock together and you configure them into dancefloor areas like 9'x12' or 15'x20'. I think that we're going for a 16'x16'. My question now: Is that going to be BIG enough? I mean, few if any of us weigh the same as we did 40 years ago . . . and we will probably take up more space too.
The other thing that we spend a lot of time on is tracking people down. Although we didn't realize it when we were in school; many, many people in both the '68 and '69 classes were from military families and their presence was greatly influenced by the proximity of both Ft. Monroe and Langley AFB . . . and their summer PCS rotations. People whose parents just happened to be stationed here and living in the KHS school zone during their Senior year. Oh sure, some had lived here all their lives (and in many cases still do) but a very great percentage were mobile. And tracking down the women has been even more problematic - they would have married and changed their names and quite simply vanished off the face of the Earth. We work at it though, constantly badgering people to contact other people they might know. And we're not getting any younger either. Take a look at the page we have set aside for our classmates who have passed away . . . and those are only the ones we KNOW about.
More later . . .
If you were able to attend the last Reunion, you'll have a better appreciation for what we have planned for the party we have planned for October. Fun, but not quite free-form either. There'll be something for everybody; a Friday nite come-as-you-are at the outdoor bar at the Crowne Plaza hotel, and an elegant, dressed-up-to-the-nines party on Saturday night. There's a Sunday Buffet planned . . . but figure the odds after the bash we plan for the night before. We haven't really gotten much farther than that in actually planning the events; there WILL be a theme, we WILL work with the hotel catering staff and finalize all that (a good five meetings on just the food, I'm sure), HOW we want the rooms arranged, all that.
That's the easy part. The REAL work is in lining up a place to have the Reunion and working out THOSE details . . . and finding a band. One night at a Committee Meeting when the band was up for discussion for about the 4000 th time, I actually said to one of the women - I think maybe it was Andrea Cantrell - "What would happen if I suggested that we just dont have a band?" LOL. The look I got in return left no doubt in my mind what the answer to my question would be. Men, the women on the Committee are the driving force behind all this so there WILL be a band. Okay? Which means that there WILL be dancing. I know. At our age. But there's just no help for it so get over it You ought to hear the discussions on the dance floor area. I mean, my first inclination was that - if we have to dance - what's wrong with just the carpet? One thing I have learned over the years is to learn from my mistakes . . . and I wasn't forgetting the one I made over the band so this time I just kept my mouth shut. Did you know that you have to have things called "squares?" Apparently the interlock together and you configure them into dancefloor areas like 9'x12' or 15'x20'. I think that we're going for a 16'x16'. My question now: Is that going to be BIG enough? I mean, few if any of us weigh the same as we did 40 years ago . . . and we will probably take up more space too.
The other thing that we spend a lot of time on is tracking people down. Although we didn't realize it when we were in school; many, many people in both the '68 and '69 classes were from military families and their presence was greatly influenced by the proximity of both Ft. Monroe and Langley AFB . . . and their summer PCS rotations. People whose parents just happened to be stationed here and living in the KHS school zone during their Senior year. Oh sure, some had lived here all their lives (and in many cases still do) but a very great percentage were mobile. And tracking down the women has been even more problematic - they would have married and changed their names and quite simply vanished off the face of the Earth. We work at it though, constantly badgering people to contact other people they might know. And we're not getting any younger either. Take a look at the page we have set aside for our classmates who have passed away . . . and those are only the ones we KNOW about.
More later . . .
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