Magic Happens With Age

Here we are --  final vestiges of the 50th Reunion Committee meeting to figure out who gets to take charge of the next (55th, of course) reunion, to laugh some more and to eat a little more as well.  We do look a little weird because our mouths are full.  We just stopped chewing for a second for the photo.

Front and center is Kathy Davis Allman, whom I've known forever, to her right is Susan Fields Walles who came from Flushing, New York our senior year.  Linda Wightman Fleming I've known since 1st grade when we moved to Provo and Kathy Ostler Fryer was the head of the Decorations Committee all these months.  Jeff Brooks was wild and crazy through high school and now drives a Jaguar, Doc Hansen was the heir to Hansen Candy Company, Wayne Clarke was and is the the most devilishly handsome and married Ann Sumsion and is still married to her and Naoma Gammon Bird, sitting next to me, was not a close friend in high school, but became a very close friend in college. We still are close friends.  Taking the picture is Bob Valentine who was in charge of the reunion.  He gets credit for almost all of the great success of the Provo High School Class of 1960 50th Reunion.

Now here's something for you.  We really didn't belong together.  I knew all these people in high school, of course, and liked them all well enough, but we didn't exactly belong to the same cliques.  But we really did become great friends during the preparation for the reunion.  

Those of you who aren't going to high school reunions for any reason, consider this -- things change.  Like Bob Valentine said, "In high school we had groups, but now there's just one group -- the old one."

And for good reason, we seem to all like each other and finally have time for each other.  We laugh, we talk, we explain things and finally kind of figure things out.  The old mysteries are really a thing of the past.

And our intention is to keep on meeting.  At least the Decorations Committee plans to.  We've got our next meeting planned for September.  We also have our class of 1960 website paid up for the next three years.  And there's also good ole Facebook.  We won't let go again because we like each other again.  And this time, even better.

The reason is this:  We have made lots of friends since high school.  Many of those friends are better friends than those we had in high school.  But it's important to remember that there's no universal rule that says there's a limit on friends.  No need to discard the old when the new come into play.

And those friends from high school?  They may have been cuter, faster, and looked better in a pair of jeans back then, but I can almost guarantee you you'll like them even better after they've aged a bit like the storied good wine, fine cheese and old friends are supposed to do.  It just happens.  Just like it's supposed to.  

Walt Oleksy -- Just Another Reason to Love Facebook

More than forty years ago, Walt Oleksy bounced in and out of my life.  Then less than a week ago, there he was again, friending me on Facebook!

He sat behind me in a bullpen at the Home Office of Allstate Insurance Company located in Northbrook, Illinois.  We were writers of various employee publications for the company and I loved it.  I did the Home Office publication "All Hands".   Walt hated it.  There were about four of us, maybe five.  All of us were happy except Walt.  

Never a corporate man, he’d slide his face down daily holding his cheeks with his enormous hands and would groan something like “Kill me, get me out of here now.” Often I couldn’t understand what he was saying because his face was smashed into his desk.  Most writers were thrilled with a steady paycheck to supplement their freelance work, but not Walt.  

Ultimately, I was never sure whether he was fired or if he quit or if it was something in between, but I talked to him on the phone afterwards one day, and he was blithely researching an article which involved a tennis racket and an ironing board as I recall.  He really didn’t like many people a lot, and men in suits weren’t people at all to him, I don’t believe.  

Then he hit his niche.  He wrote articles galore and something like thirty books.  He’d grab hold of a topic, work it like a pit bull, write a book then move on to another topic that was totally unrelated.  Here's a list:  http://www.ranker.com/list/walter-g-oleksy-books-and-stories-and-written-works/reference

He’s amazing and fascinating.  He has at least one website devoted to old movies, loves Errol Flynn, his dog and has lived in the same place, I think, for as long as I’ve known him. Eccentric, interesting, always ready with book recommendations, never married and nobody’s fool, Walt is worth keeping track of.  I found one of his books in a library once and then I found him on the web, got an email address somehow back when and we chatted a little but now this.  

I love Facebook for more reasons than Walt, but he’s reason enough.  What a guy.  I feel sorry for people Facebook scares.  Consider what they might be missing!

Beach Boys to Shallow Tuesday is a Process Worth Thinking About

We’ve got “Shallow Tuesday” going on around here and it’s thanks to Lynn Alvord who is anything but shallow.  For “Shallow Tuesday”, dinner is secondary.  Friendship and conversation and meeting new people is primary.  

Shallow Tuesday comes, of course, from “Fat Tuesday” (Mardi Gras) but Shallow Tuesday is to be anything but fancy and extravagant like Mardi Gras and is to come every Tuesday rather than once a year.  

Also, last night I learned something more about it from Lynn -- Lynn got the idea for “Shallow Tuesday” from the Beach Boys -- from “I Get Around” specifically.  

“I'm gettin' bugged driving up and down the same old strip

I gotta find a new place where the kids are hip

“My buddies and me are getting real well known

Yeah, the bad guys know us and they leave us alone” 

Lynn is a music genius, and our ward organist, who was once at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in Detroit on a tour answering all the questions for the tour guide, when finally the guide said ”Who is that white guy answering all the questions back there?”  Apparently the questions were designed to be too obscure for anyone, black or white, to answer.  

But what I also think is the best in all this is progressive thinking like Lynn’s and his  zany ability and willingness to express it.  Moving from point “A” to point “B” or “Z” is an amazing thought process and if we could bottle it up, we’d have a treasured commodity sometimes.

If we could get our children to explain themselves when we ask them “Why did you do that?” we’d probably not be as angry with them nearly so often either.  

How we come up with ideas often is as interesting as the ideas themselves.    Lynn Alvord is one of the most interesting guys around and one of the reasons for that is not only does he tell you what he thinks, but how.  I love him for that!  And it was great fun at his house last night.    

And you wouldn’t believe the mixture of people he entertains!  Wild mixture of thought, wild mixture of people.  No wonder Lynn is such an interesting guy.  

Too bad more people don’t realize what makes interesting people interesting and how cues from the Beach Boys can make things lots less tedious.  

  

Melange, Janet Do You Know What That Means? It Means Wonderful

Didja know that Uganda is over 8,000 miles from Utah and that Norway is probably over 4,000 miles from here.  The year of the Tiger comes up every twelve years and matters to the Ross family. And did you know that the Himalayan Restaurant is something right downtown in Salt Lake City and that the magical Tenaj Matovu and Eric Ross chose that spot for their wedding dinner simply because they like the food and their invitees simply because of their jolliness?  I'm sure of it.  Because you certainly can't figure out much of a pattern in anything else.

We had so much fun.

Wendy is from Salem, Massachusetts so we're pretty sure she's a witch.  Her son is Henry.  He was there.  The Norwegians were represented by Jon Ravneng, a crazed Viking who is seriously challenged melanin-wize and his beautiful wife, Bente, their daughter, Mija and her interesting husband whose name I missed.  Sorry.  Bobacar, from Kenya sat by us as well.  He fits in because his wife knows me (!) from Sandy and Janet.

Janet's family is not melanin-challenged and are originally from Uganda.  Currently they are from the Eastern United States.  They are lots of fun and seemed to think we are okay too though Janet noted we paler types do seem to resemble one another.  We took no major personal affront.    Janet's whole family was there except for Janet's father who is still a little out-of-sorts because Eric is a little too pale for his liking, but no one seems to think that will last too much longer.  He remains in Uganda.


Then there's Eric's family, all of whom seemed to enjoy the whole event immensely as well and, surprisingly, as another exciting note, Eric's younger sister was in one of my seminary classes at Brighton about fifteen years ago!  I love the smallness of this world!  It was really a great event.

And to make the whole thing wonderful, Janet now lives downtown at the Belvedere which means she can join the out-to-lunch bunch.

I really think the United Nations could learn a think or two from Janet and Eric.  Get people together who like each other, who laugh together and have fun together, and just let everyone else just stay home.
How could they lose?

Pictured above are Eric, in a traditional Ugandan marriage outfit, Janet, also in a Ugandan marriage outfit, Bente and Mija.  Next my crazy former student, Jon, and one of Janet's brothers, Moses, I believe.  finally is Janet's mother.  This photo does not do her justice.  Jon took the picture and did not do a very good job of it.  But all is forgiven.  It was his first and only attempt.

Launching a Lunching Marathon

Suppose you  were approaching your fiftieth  high school graduation reunion.  What would you do?  Panic?  Cry?  Put balm on your aching muscles?  Maybe not.

You might do what I'm doing.  You would go on a mammoth and historic lunching binge that knows no end.  Partly it has to do with planning the event.  But partly it has to do with realizing the people you went to high school with so many years ago were really quite likable people.

Bob Valentine is really to blame.  He's in charge of the whole event and he's done an amazing job of getting us back together, finding out email addresses, phone numbers, getting people on Facebook, locating lost souls and, of course, find out who has passed on. There are those, of course, who don't want to be found and would just as soon, forget about us all, but there aren't too many of them.  And we are sorry they feel that way.  We hope they change their minds before July 2 which is the big day.

The truth is, by now the cliques are kinda over with, we've kinda forgotten the old feuds and who was wild and who was pregnant a little too early, who was a little too judgmental, who were the brown-nosers, who were the goody-goodys, and who, well, you know.  And if we remember, we don't much care.  And if we care, I guess that's our problem because that's jerky behavior now just as it was then.

And we just want to get together and catch up.  That's all.

We're finding out that friends at first are friends at last and that is what reunions are all about.  It's not the event itself.  It's these fun little lunches that happen along the way.

BTW:  Thats back row:  Linda Holm, Jayne Wright Neeley, Kathy Davis Allman, Carma Banks Smith Bush, Linda Cannon Aukschun.  Front, Susan Black, Kathy Ostler Fryer, Naoma Gammon Bird, all at Thanksgiving Point on Tuesday, February 23, 2010.

When Elephants Retire

Thanks, Wendy.  This is great.

http://s436.photobucket.com/albums/qq89/jaynewr/?action=view&current=When_elephants_retire.flv

Facebook Fracas

It all started out rather inocuously.  Lulu*, a Friend on Facebook wrote:

“I just saw an article on MSN about the Cosbys and Obama. Sometimes I feel like the only one who is indifferent to the fact that Obama is black. Maybe it's a generation thing? If someone 'appears' qualified and competent, their race doesn’t matter.”

It continued on with other comments for awhile until "Zach” chimed in:

“There will be a lot less racism when the older population dies out. These old farts that I work with will, on occasion, drop the "N" word and also talk about mexicans. I usually don't say anything, but once I called a guy out because of how he described asians. I am a little more sensitive having a biracial relationship and having biracial kids.(by the way, Obama is biracial, but everyone calls him black).”

I, then, a  vision of decorum weighed in:

“Zach, I feel you've got some bigotry going on. some of us older people lived through the civil rights times and it meant alot to us. Don't put anyone in a collective to be dismissed. You may be giving up some of the best that is in us.”

Zachy then retorted with indignation and shock:

“I don't have any bigotry and I relay (sic) on the older population for an income. I sell hearing aids. I get a lot of racist comments from my patients. They think that I agree with them because I am white. All these guys lived through the civil rights movement as well, but it doesn't stop them from dropping the N word in front of me. And if you are commenting because I said old farts, then I apologize. I bet my definition of old is older then your definition. I feel some one in their seventies is young, eighties are getting up there, and ninety is old. I have a patient that is 103. See what I mean?”

I didn’t respond because I think everybody could see through it, but if I had, I might have said:

“Sputtered denial and back-pedaling is not evidence that you’re not a bigot, but your first comment is evidence that you are.  It would have been better had you just kept quiet and let the thing die. And just because you take money from your older clients doesn’t mean that you like or even respect them.  You use them.  That doesn't make you superior.  It makes you a user.”  

I still want to get him, though.

“Name changed to protect "Lulu's" innocence.  Zach is not a friend and I doubt he ever will be.

Betty Has Cancer

I don't think I've mentioned cancer in my blog. I had it twenty years ago. Breast cancer. I had surgery, radiation and chemo. All of it.

It's all a thing of the past now. That was a long time ago. Most days I don't think of it. At least not much.

But this time, my friend, Betty, has it. Her prognosis is good. She's going to be fine. But her hair is falling out because of the chemo. She had to quit her job at a preschool because her immune system will be compromised. She cries a lot because she is really suffering from depression. Betty was my neighbor for thirty years. Then I moved away and now this.

I really wish I were there. Not really. I wish she were here. The big problem with that is, with cancer, no matter how many people are around you, you're still alone. I love Betty. I just wish I could make that matter a little more at this point in time.

Goodnight, Sweet Prince

I complained on Twitter from and about a funeral, today. In retrospect, I think that was really bad form but I couldn't help it. It went on and on for almost two hours. I even took a potty break. But I digress.

Ray Jones was my high school speech teacher. It's because of him I memorized the whole Old Testament chapter about Belshazzer the King and the handwriting on the wall. He never gave me a part in one of the school plays because I was a jerk and showed how nervous I was during one of my class speeches. That's when I learned the valuable lesson that "you never let them see you sweat." That has served me well my entire life.

He was a blast. A gnomish little guy who was bombastic, full of life and a man who expected a lot from us. I remember snippets of Shakespeare to this day.

He told us one day he had some sort of neurological disorder that made it so that when he brushed his teeth with his right hand, his left hand mimicked the actions. He hands did not work independently naturally, so he hooked his thumb into his beltloop for most things so keep things looking normal.

He played Charlie Brown in "You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown" and a gang of us youthish married matrons went to see him like the high school groupies we used to be. He was gracious and kind to us after the show, giving us the full impression that he remembered us.

He never married. I talked to his sister today at his funeral and told her that we had hoped that he would fall in love with Wanda Scott who was also a teacher at Provo High School. They were great friends and did a lot of things together and we couldn't figure out why their relationship didn't have a happier ending. His sister told me that she thought that they did fall in love but that each was so concerned with caring for his/her aging parents, that they never got around to it.

Too bad you didn't know him. You would have loved him too. I wonder he's checked out heaven for Shakespeare, his hero. If not yet, it'll happen and Shakespeare will love him too.

Partying On

We had our third barbecue in two weeks tonight. The first one was my brother, Brent's family, which I believe includes about two hundred and fifty people from along the Wasatch Front. The occurrence was Family Home Evening. Chaos ensued. The kind jostling famlies enjoy and others look upon in horror. It was great.

Next came the neighborhood BBQ. It was the whole street, in fact, which was only ten people but included the most diverse (read unlikely) group of people to be assembled. A great group of people, mind you, but not exactly a grouping arranged in Heaven. It was, not surprisingly, the most composed group of the three. Polite and reserved, it also adjourned the earliest. We had threatened to have a neighborhood party for three years and now we understand why we were wise not to have one before. So it goes.

Then came tonight with the Empty Nesters. Twenty-three of us, mostly retirees, charging around in the backyard with tongs, spearing instruments and various hot meats. It was wonderful. No one remembered his/her bathing suit, so there was no Slip 'n Sliding if you read the earlier blog.

I love having people over, even quiet, reserved ones, so it has been fun. I really wish the summer wasn't coming to an end. But Thanksgiving is not too far off and then it's another chance for a party. There just has to be a lot of laughing. That's the only criterion for success in my book.

The Orphan

I'm not talking about my daughter-in-law here. I'm talking about the movie.

As best I remember, some critics said it had a good start, good premise but devolved into formulaic violence and mayhem. Then some others said the twist was a little beyond belief. Both true. But it was still a really pretty good scary movie. Quite bloody, which is not my favorite, too many f-bombs and a few disturbing images, but it scared the heck out of me which is what I love. I love scary movies.

DeeAnn and I both thought that the whole deal was worth the price of admission for a couple of seniors and worth, also, some mushroom enchiladas after.

To say the least, it was worth the evening spent at the Gateway which is always a problem, particularly for DeeAnn who didn't know up from down there. Fortunately she had me to lead her to and from places, and watching her bewilderment running rampant alone was almost worth the price of admission. Great movie.

Facebook Friending

Facebook is hard. I don't mean it takes braininess, because it doesn't. Maybe just the opposite, in fact. It does require judgement, however, which makes it hard. Who has that anymore?

How hard can it be to decide who you want to "friend"? (That's a new verb, incidentally.) Not hard, basically, but who initiates the friending?

For example, my peers aren't on Facebook in throngs. If they were, then I'd friend them. Unless, of course, I've not seen them since high school and maybe then we weren't exactly friends anyway. Then I'd probably not friend them. Easy, cut and dried.

But I was a teacher. Does a student take the initiative and friend me? Many have and I appreciate it and reciprocate. But what about the student who is a little shy in the face of

somebody they'd see as an authority figure? Does a teacher friend them? Sometimes, if they were friendly together while in class. However, might students be reluctant to openly friend a teacher who taught them religion? Absolutely, if they have any sense and if it's possible they might reveal things or say things that could be difficult to say in front of someone they've discussed morals, doctrines and scriptures with. I hate to put former students in a dilemma like that, so I generally don't if I have any doubts.

I don't suppose I'm alone in this dilemma. Social protocol often gives me trouble anyway and this one isn't much different. But I'd like to hear what you think.

Why the Heck Not?

I love getting together with friends. Why don't I do it more often? I just think I'm ADD enough that I truly forget how much I love friends.

Last night Lorraine Hawkins, Gloria and Ray Hintze and their son Russell came to our house for hamburgers and salad. Prep time was the time we spend at Harmon's. We had so much fun. Lorraine and Gloria I've known since we were all in the 40th ward over in Sandy about 33 years ago. Russell I've known all his life since he is only nineteen and I remember when he was born. Ray I've known since we were both in Mrs. Turner's First Grade Class. The best First Grade Class since the world was formed.

"Let's do this more often", we said though we probably won't. I wish I had pictures from last night because you'd love to see these people, I know, but trust me -- they are beauties and they are lots of fun to be with. I love all the laughing we did. If people don't expect too much of dinner, they'll get lots of everything else, I know, if they'll just come by -- that is, if I'll just ask them to.

Water Fighting as an Art Form

Liz McOmber was the best water-fighter in the world. Her strategy was to travel, hand-over-hand, up the hose with eyes shut, taking a full force blast in the face until she reached the nozzle, wrenching it from the hand of whoever dared to take her on, and returning the blast, full force plus. Ah, yes, the crazy redhead was the champion.

Liz once took on her pack of seven children, dousing them mercilessly and leaving them in ruins. Only the littlest children were left to retaliate with little bowls of water from the bathroom. The rest hid out.

Liz, weary of the lack of prey, turned the hose full blast on those teenage children who were retired to the family room in defeat. It was awesome.

When it was over, and it was Liz who announced when it was over, everyone was ordered to gather armfulls of dirty laundry, and use it to mop up the residue that wasn't soaked into the family, and return it to the laundry area.

And it was over. Liz had declared it over and everyone knew that water in the family room was again verboten. Liz the wonderful flaming rehead was in charge.

Fearful Friends and their Phobias

People have strange phobias. I have a friend who has endured years in analysis to overcome her strange fear of having a child throw up on her back. None of the approaches or techniques have worked. As a consequence, she barely endures children and particularly when they get behind her. I was both amazed and a bit entertained by her misery so one can imagine my joy on relating to her how at a Jordan Middle School band concert, a little girl threw up in profuse quantity on the back of the woman who was sitting behind me. The woman remained in her seat for much of the concert in order to hear her child's part in the program. She sat forward in her seat so she would not besmirch the back of the seat behind her. Hence, she was close enough to chat a bit through the whole event. It was hilarious though she was not particularly amused.

Today in Sacrament Meeting, the little girl behind me kept saying to her mother, "I'm sick." I kept waiting for the excitement to begin. I thought that perhaps I would have a new anecdote to amuse my friend with, but it didn't ever happen. Alas.

But still it occurs to me to wonder why that mother kept ignoring her little girl. "I'm sick" to a child as small as she means "I'm going to hurl." No matter how strong your own stomach is, who needs that kind of mess? And who knows who might be around us who might be, like my friend, in peril of a personal meltdown?

From the Sublime to the Sublime

Yesterday while in line at Costco, I asked the man behind me to save my spot while I dashed for bandaids. When I returned, slightly breathless, he told me he was ninety years old last week. He was amazing. He looked much younger than I thought a ninety-year-old man should look, and his face was beautiful -- bright, smiling, intelligent -- I don't know what I expected but definitely something more decrepit. It was great to see him. He did me a world of good. He made me very happy just with his robust, charming good nature.

Then within an hour I was holding little McKenna Haacke, two-week-old daughter of Liesl and Corey Haacke and sister to CJ. She's tiny and beautiful. She also did me a world of good with her gentle smallness, her sleepy, trusting nature and her pliable little body adapting to my chest. Her head was warm like babies head's are, her little hands and arms were curled in and her legs were so skinny and small, they were barely noticeable. I was overwhelmed by her helplessness and by how protective of her I felt.

Sometimes when I get tired of not having the energy and strength that I used to have and seeming to some to be a little past useful, I need days like today. I love life in all its manifestations and I'm not going to forget these two people. They meant a lot to me.

Speaking of the Important Things in Life

Here’s what I know. Everybody needs somebody to talk to. Sometimes, just a good friend will do. Lunch anywhere serves me fine. Talking with someone, laughing, crying sometimes, or the general belly-aching session with a buddy is a good way to bring a good life into better perspective and a poorer one into a little better light.

But, on a deeper level, I think everyone needs someone to talk to about their hopes, their dreams, how they look, how they feel, what is true to them and what bedevils them. It ‘s important that that “someone” is not an editor or critic, however. Just a listener, who is rapt and more than trustworthy. Everyone needs a listener who doesn’t tell you to “Watch out”, or “Be careful of” unless absolutely necessary because they trust that you’ve all ready thought of those things. I have someone in my life who fills this role perfectly -- and it’s not my beloved Carl. It is my delightful thirty-year friend DeeAnn Huish. God has blessed you if you have this kind of person in your life. Just a side note -- it’s probably not your mother, but maybe it is if you’re lucky.

But even more subterranean, is having someone that you can talk to about your most fundamental questions. This is the most difficult to find. Do you have concerns that you have rolling around in the back of your brain about your religious beliefs? About disappointments that might be too difficult for your spouse or parents to hear about without some to “knock” it up against first? I’ve had secrets (smoking cigarettes being one) that nearly destroyed my relationship with my family because I felt such an urgency to hide them. I definitely needed someone to talk to during my early twenties.

Or you might have a child who needs someone to talk to. My father was a very wise man when he said “Everyone needs someone to talk to who isn’t family.” He sent me to a counselor at BYU in the early sixties when such things were not really accepted as being something healthy for regular people to do.

The best is to have someones (and that is plural) in your life that you can talk to, and generally we are talking here about different “specialists”, perhaps. But if you don’t, hire someone. If it’s not for you, but for your spouse or child, do not delay. Talking is important to most of us. It’s the way we think things through. I believe that’s why I have brothers, it’s why I have Carl, it’s why I have DeeAnn, why I have Ben, Brad, Julia, Wendy, Lorraine, Gloria. I know what I need and I surround myself with them. This is the counselor in me talking and this is free, no bill will be attached.

The picture above: Betty Leary and me -- Lifelong forever friends