One of the Wichita Falls television stations begins the evening news coverage with the question, “It’s ten o’clock, do you know where your children are?”
The questions I would ask you today are: Do you know what’s in your house, is it useful, if not, why is it still there?
For several weeks now, I’ve been searching for a certain bank statement. I put it somewhere so I would know exactly where it would be when I needed it, but I have come up short every place I’ve looked.
This is similar to my hiding Band-aids when my children were all little and then not being able to locate them when I needed one. If I left them in the medicine cabinet in plain sight, they soon disappeared. I often told Ray that we would be rich if we had invested in Johnson and Johnson.
But, losing the bank statement has not been all bad. In looking for this document, I’ve been forced to go through my file cabinet and toss out many old and unimportant papers. I’ve been on a roll, shredding some of the paperwork of long ago.
It’s surprising how fast things pile up in a house. I do not refer solely to paperwork, but to many other items. As a young mother, I sewed some for my children and could not resist buying fabric any time I came across some in a store.
Several years ago, I needed some storage space, so I went through all the materials that were still unused and moved them to a large plastic storage box. If Gayle still had time to sew, I would give them to her, but she is too busy for that right now
One of the drawbacks of going through all these records is that each one has to be read or examined in order not to dispose of something that is important. This, my friends, takes time.
Every so often, I find it necessary to go through my little basket where I keep my snail mail. This is a tedious job, because as sure as I throw away an envelope, I need that return address.
There are some things that I cannot part with; things such as baby clothes that my children wore and greeting cards I’ve received over many years. These are such cherished keepsakes, I simply can’t throw them out.
I have passed along to some of my children and grandchildren mother’s and grandma’s pieces of beautiful handwork, even though most of them are showing signs of age.
In her latter years, Mother would say, “I feel sorry for you all when I am gone—there is so much to go through.” She was exactly right. But we made it.
In reference to last week’s column regarding the overload of emails on my computer, maybe it did help some people. Two of my email friends sent me messages that they were going through and deleting large numbers of emails. It is so easy to read a message and leave it on the computer.
As of last night, I had eight unread messages on my computer and only about fifty all together. Sure beats that 17,000 I had on there earlier.
6-17-2009
#439
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Friday, June 12, 2009
Battling an E-mail Overload
I guess it’s confession time for me. For several weeks recently I’ve been having problems with my computer. When I turned on the Outlook Express to receive my emails, the download would begin and sometimes go about halfway. Suddenly, I would get a message that my server had interrupted service for an unknown reason.
The really odd part was that I could still access my Internet Explorer successfully and my Facebook. This was so frustrating and I felt isolated, because I do use my computer to constantly stay in touch with friends and family.
Gayle had some instructions from AT&T that she thought might solve this problem. She stopped by briefly one afternoon and tried this method, but it did not help any. Finally, she came by another day and was checking out my programs when she looked at me and said, “Mother, did you know you have over 17,000 emails stored on here?”
I thought she was joking, but when I looked, there was the BIG number. She began deleting those messages and eventually got them all off. She said, “I bet everyone in Waurika who has the same server as you, will see remarkably better service now.”
Last week after all this had happened, we met several members of our family from the Dallas area for lunch and visiting. We met in Decatur, Texas. Of the nine who were there, I was the oldest. Everyone there, well most of them, was much younger than I am, and when Gayle told these computer-savvy persons what I had done, they could not believe it.
In addition to the large number of stored messages, more than 1900 of them were shown as “unread.” I knew I was far behind with checking my emails, but had no idea that I was so buried in unread messages. Since that time, I have been diligent about reading the new emails and deleting the ones I no longer need to keep.
When we had walked into the restaurant, people looked around and saw four women who had totally gray or white hair. I bet they probably thought it was “happy hour” for seniors. Of course, the younger ones did balance the group somewhat.
A niece in another town teaches computer to elementary grade children. A job she really enjoys. This summer she is teaching some kindergarten children to use the computer. She said one of the little boys in that class, took his thumb out of his mouth and said, “ I really wike computers.”
When Ray worked in Woodward, I volunteered in a transitional class. These were children who had already been through kindergarten, but were not mature enough to go on to first grade. One little boy who was somewhat of a behavioral problem, would really straighten up and change his behavior when the teacher would tell him, “Now Hoover, when you finish your assignment and if you obey the rules, then you can work at the computer.”
He was a fast learner because he was doing what he enjoyed doing. Wish I could learn as fast as these young ones do.
6-10-2009
#438
The really odd part was that I could still access my Internet Explorer successfully and my Facebook. This was so frustrating and I felt isolated, because I do use my computer to constantly stay in touch with friends and family.
Gayle had some instructions from AT&T that she thought might solve this problem. She stopped by briefly one afternoon and tried this method, but it did not help any. Finally, she came by another day and was checking out my programs when she looked at me and said, “Mother, did you know you have over 17,000 emails stored on here?”
I thought she was joking, but when I looked, there was the BIG number. She began deleting those messages and eventually got them all off. She said, “I bet everyone in Waurika who has the same server as you, will see remarkably better service now.”
Last week after all this had happened, we met several members of our family from the Dallas area for lunch and visiting. We met in Decatur, Texas. Of the nine who were there, I was the oldest. Everyone there, well most of them, was much younger than I am, and when Gayle told these computer-savvy persons what I had done, they could not believe it.
In addition to the large number of stored messages, more than 1900 of them were shown as “unread.” I knew I was far behind with checking my emails, but had no idea that I was so buried in unread messages. Since that time, I have been diligent about reading the new emails and deleting the ones I no longer need to keep.
When we had walked into the restaurant, people looked around and saw four women who had totally gray or white hair. I bet they probably thought it was “happy hour” for seniors. Of course, the younger ones did balance the group somewhat.
A niece in another town teaches computer to elementary grade children. A job she really enjoys. This summer she is teaching some kindergarten children to use the computer. She said one of the little boys in that class, took his thumb out of his mouth and said, “ I really wike computers.”
When Ray worked in Woodward, I volunteered in a transitional class. These were children who had already been through kindergarten, but were not mature enough to go on to first grade. One little boy who was somewhat of a behavioral problem, would really straighten up and change his behavior when the teacher would tell him, “Now Hoover, when you finish your assignment and if you obey the rules, then you can work at the computer.”
He was a fast learner because he was doing what he enjoyed doing. Wish I could learn as fast as these young ones do.
6-10-2009
#438
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Mother was One of a Kind
“She (or he) was one of a kind.” Have you ever said this about someone you knew? All of us are different in many ways, but some are different in such unique ways that they stand apart from the rest.
As I have aged, I’ve come to recognize the uniqueness of my mother. She
had such a rare sense of humor and loved to play practical jokes. Her parents rented bedrooms to travelers coming through Boyd. I remember Mother telling of some members of a baseball team staying overnight in their hotel/home. Mother and one of her girl friends went in the boys’ rooms while they were out and stitched the bottoms of their uniform pants. The boys came back in a big hurry to change into their uniforms to begin playing and found this complication.
My sister and I thought Mother was way too strict when we were teens. If we asked to go some place or do something and she refused, we would tell her that “everyone else is going.” Her reply, “If everyone else broke a leg, would you want a broken leg?”
It was comical the way she would shift our ages. If she asked us to do
something we thought was too hard, she would say, “You mean to tell me a big
sixteen year old can’t do that?” However, the next hour when we asked for some special privilege, she came back with, “Do you think I’m going to let a twelve year old go out alone.”
As most mothers, I suppose, she was the travel agent for guilt trips. If she learned that we had mistreated someone or been unkind, she would say, “How would you like to be treated that way?” I always preferred a switching to a verbal dressing down.
And, she was a charter member of the Mothers’ Worry Club. Mother worried about us if we were home or away, about the big things and the little things.
The really amazing thing about all this is that I find myself more like my mother every day. I catch myself saying some of her favorite things, and I even have some of the same opinions she had.
As Erma Bombeck said, “I put my arm in my sweater and out comes my
mother’s arm.” I don’t know if boys and their fathers have this same connection or not, but I hope I have inherited some of my mother’s best traits and characteristics.
I trust that she forgave me for my ungrateful and rebellious years.
6-03-2009
#437
As I have aged, I’ve come to recognize the uniqueness of my mother. She
had such a rare sense of humor and loved to play practical jokes. Her parents rented bedrooms to travelers coming through Boyd. I remember Mother telling of some members of a baseball team staying overnight in their hotel/home. Mother and one of her girl friends went in the boys’ rooms while they were out and stitched the bottoms of their uniform pants. The boys came back in a big hurry to change into their uniforms to begin playing and found this complication.
My sister and I thought Mother was way too strict when we were teens. If we asked to go some place or do something and she refused, we would tell her that “everyone else is going.” Her reply, “If everyone else broke a leg, would you want a broken leg?”
It was comical the way she would shift our ages. If she asked us to do
something we thought was too hard, she would say, “You mean to tell me a big
sixteen year old can’t do that?” However, the next hour when we asked for some special privilege, she came back with, “Do you think I’m going to let a twelve year old go out alone.”
As most mothers, I suppose, she was the travel agent for guilt trips. If she learned that we had mistreated someone or been unkind, she would say, “How would you like to be treated that way?” I always preferred a switching to a verbal dressing down.
And, she was a charter member of the Mothers’ Worry Club. Mother worried about us if we were home or away, about the big things and the little things.
The really amazing thing about all this is that I find myself more like my mother every day. I catch myself saying some of her favorite things, and I even have some of the same opinions she had.
As Erma Bombeck said, “I put my arm in my sweater and out comes my
mother’s arm.” I don’t know if boys and their fathers have this same connection or not, but I hope I have inherited some of my mother’s best traits and characteristics.
I trust that she forgave me for my ungrateful and rebellious years.
6-03-2009
#437
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Veterans Deserve Honors
Starr and I joined with other persons on Monday morning for the Memorial Day honoring of our veterans. The weather was perfect and the informal ceremony was quite impressive and touching. The mournful tones of Taps concluded the event.
From the time we first moved here in 1957, if I remember correctly, the American Legion or the Disabled American Veterans had a ceremony each year on Memorial Day. I’m not certain if the earlier ones were held at the flagpole in the cemetery, or if they were held elsewhere.
To me it is sad that so few of our older veterans are still living. I believe that both the two former military veterans’ organizations are no longer active here in Waurika.
My brother, a 29 year Marine Corps veteran reminded me of the celebrations of Decoration Day in the small town where our grandparents lived. It was usually on a Sunday and friends and family members gathered at the local cemetery. Long tables had been set up and they overflowed with good food. Much of this bounty came from home gardens and was very nutritious.
After we had eaten, there were usually some speeches, and some of the late arriving attendees took time to place flowers at the graves of their loved ones.
In our early years, I’m sure we just took this as a day to meet with other family members and enjoy a good meal. We did not realize the significance of this day.
In various locations of the United States Memorial Day had been observed since the end of the Civil War. However, in many places, this was Decoration Day. In 1967, this day was officially proclaimed as Memorial Day.
We must never forget that the blood of American military veterans is spread over many countries in Europe, as well as Korea and Vietnam, and other places too numerous to mention.
Our military personnel are now engaged in two wars. This requires them to leave their homes, families and friends to serve our country. How could we ever pay them back for these sacrifices? They deserve the best medical treatments, especially rehabilitation, this country can provide.
Although I do not think of my family as being “military’” my dad served in World War I, my husband and his two brothers served in WW II, as well as my brother who was in Korea and Vietnam, plus several other family members.
I am so proud of each of these family members who were willing to give their all for our freedom and welfare.
May God bless our veterans and those who protect us now.
5-27-09
#436
From the time we first moved here in 1957, if I remember correctly, the American Legion or the Disabled American Veterans had a ceremony each year on Memorial Day. I’m not certain if the earlier ones were held at the flagpole in the cemetery, or if they were held elsewhere.
To me it is sad that so few of our older veterans are still living. I believe that both the two former military veterans’ organizations are no longer active here in Waurika.
My brother, a 29 year Marine Corps veteran reminded me of the celebrations of Decoration Day in the small town where our grandparents lived. It was usually on a Sunday and friends and family members gathered at the local cemetery. Long tables had been set up and they overflowed with good food. Much of this bounty came from home gardens and was very nutritious.
After we had eaten, there were usually some speeches, and some of the late arriving attendees took time to place flowers at the graves of their loved ones.
In our early years, I’m sure we just took this as a day to meet with other family members and enjoy a good meal. We did not realize the significance of this day.
In various locations of the United States Memorial Day had been observed since the end of the Civil War. However, in many places, this was Decoration Day. In 1967, this day was officially proclaimed as Memorial Day.
We must never forget that the blood of American military veterans is spread over many countries in Europe, as well as Korea and Vietnam, and other places too numerous to mention.
Our military personnel are now engaged in two wars. This requires them to leave their homes, families and friends to serve our country. How could we ever pay them back for these sacrifices? They deserve the best medical treatments, especially rehabilitation, this country can provide.
Although I do not think of my family as being “military’” my dad served in World War I, my husband and his two brothers served in WW II, as well as my brother who was in Korea and Vietnam, plus several other family members.
I am so proud of each of these family members who were willing to give their all for our freedom and welfare.
May God bless our veterans and those who protect us now.
5-27-09
#436
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Admiring Creativity of Past
As we celebrated Mother’s Day recently, I was reminded of all the beautiful handwork projects created by the women in my life during my childhood. It seems that few women of today continue to pursue these interests. Possibly this is because so many women now have to supplement the family income by working outside the home. Some women are the sole breadwinners and provide the only income in the family.
As I was growing up, it seemed to me that all the women had some sort of work in their hands whenever they were sitting down. The creative possibilities of that generation were endless. In the evenings or whenever my mother sat down, she most usually had something in her hands that she was working on. She might be darning a pair of socks (who does that now?), sewing on a button or embroidering a pillowcase.
However, Mother did crochet and often sat with yarn in her lap while she crocheted an afghan or perhaps a baby cap or sweater. I loved to watch her with her thin metal needle or sometimes a large wooden crochet needle. All this depended on what she was making and what type of thread or yarn she was using.
I still have some pillowcases that my dad’s mother made. Most of Grandma Stephens’ projects were fancy and colorful. In making the pillowcases she had cut out a portion from the hem up into the case itself and had filled in that space with crocheted bells. They are beautiful and I’m sure making them was a very tedious job. She did seem to enjoy using her hands for projects such as this.
My grandma also tatted some. I remember watching that little white shuttle as she flicked it in and out and came up with a stitch. Mother often did hemstitching on various garments. She made gingham aprons and hemstitched them. To me, the most difficult and exacting work was doing cutwork on a tablecloth or maybe a smaller item.
As far as I can remember I do not recall anyone in my family knitting. A left-handed friend of mine tried to teach me to knit once. I simply could not follow her directions. She kept telling me that it was very simple, but I did not find it so.
When the new fancy sewing machines first appeared on the market, another friend purchased one. She was an excellent seamstress and I was in awe of all the decorative stitching she did on the dresses for her two little girls. The collars had zigzag designs on them and they were just precious.
My efforts at sewing were a little less successful than those of my friends. A friend gave me a pattern for overalls for little boys and I decided that I would make some for David. Not knowing that corduroy had to be cut with the nap going the same way, the overalls looked as if the material were two different colors. In addition, I had to rip the seams so many times, all the nap was worn off by the time I finished them.
Over the years, I did learn to do a little better, even though most of my garments looked homemade rather than handmade.
5-20-2009
#435
As I was growing up, it seemed to me that all the women had some sort of work in their hands whenever they were sitting down. The creative possibilities of that generation were endless. In the evenings or whenever my mother sat down, she most usually had something in her hands that she was working on. She might be darning a pair of socks (who does that now?), sewing on a button or embroidering a pillowcase.
However, Mother did crochet and often sat with yarn in her lap while she crocheted an afghan or perhaps a baby cap or sweater. I loved to watch her with her thin metal needle or sometimes a large wooden crochet needle. All this depended on what she was making and what type of thread or yarn she was using.
I still have some pillowcases that my dad’s mother made. Most of Grandma Stephens’ projects were fancy and colorful. In making the pillowcases she had cut out a portion from the hem up into the case itself and had filled in that space with crocheted bells. They are beautiful and I’m sure making them was a very tedious job. She did seem to enjoy using her hands for projects such as this.
My grandma also tatted some. I remember watching that little white shuttle as she flicked it in and out and came up with a stitch. Mother often did hemstitching on various garments. She made gingham aprons and hemstitched them. To me, the most difficult and exacting work was doing cutwork on a tablecloth or maybe a smaller item.
As far as I can remember I do not recall anyone in my family knitting. A left-handed friend of mine tried to teach me to knit once. I simply could not follow her directions. She kept telling me that it was very simple, but I did not find it so.
When the new fancy sewing machines first appeared on the market, another friend purchased one. She was an excellent seamstress and I was in awe of all the decorative stitching she did on the dresses for her two little girls. The collars had zigzag designs on them and they were just precious.
My efforts at sewing were a little less successful than those of my friends. A friend gave me a pattern for overalls for little boys and I decided that I would make some for David. Not knowing that corduroy had to be cut with the nap going the same way, the overalls looked as if the material were two different colors. In addition, I had to rip the seams so many times, all the nap was worn off by the time I finished them.
Over the years, I did learn to do a little better, even though most of my garments looked homemade rather than handmade.
5-20-2009
#435
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Some Light on the Subject
“Let there be rain,” and the rains came, abundantly. “Let there be light,” but no light appeared. The best laid plans of mice and men…you know the rest of this.
Sunday morning when I wakened and looked over at the clock with the large, lighted numbers, I noticed the face of the clock was black. Uh oh, I thought, something is wrong. I switched my bed lamp on, but the room was still dark.
When I went in the kitchen, Starr said, “Mother, I’ve already called the electric company about the power outage.”
I found it puzzling because I had not heard any thunder or seen any lightning during the night. I figured the power would come on in a few minutes.
Whenever any of the utility services are out, all I can think of is doing something that requires that particular service. Are you the same way?
As is my custom, I walked over to the coffee pot. Yes, there was coffee, but it was cold. I have a thing about cold coffee. It’s not for me.
The Sunday paper was lying on the table where Starr had placed it, but the room was much too dark to try to read it. I moved from room to room and each time I found myself clicking on the light switch, but no light came on.
When the water has been cut off for repairs or whatever reason, all I want to do is wash my hands or clean the sink, or some chore that requires water.
The family had been invited to daughter Gayle’s house for Mother’s Day dinner at noon. I remarked that it was a good thing Gayle cooks with gas because the rest of us use electricity. However, Gayle could not use her oven because it has the electric ignition.
We do tend to take all the modern conveniences for granted and normally do not even think about them until we are without that service.
One summer while our house was being built, we were living in the country. During that time, we hauled our drinking water in from town. The motor on the electric pump that provided the water we used for other things went out. My brother, his wife and four children had come to spend the night with us. We had no water.
If memory serves me right, we used some of our drinking water in the bathtub and had the children to get in, one by one, and wash their feet. My sister-in-law who grew up in the country said, “This really reminds me of home, when I was growing up.”
It’s a shame we don’t recognize how fortunate we are to be able to enjoy these services we have today, and to be grateful for them. I doubt that many would want to go back to the days of having to draw water from a well, or use kerosene lamps and wood stoves.
As thankful as I am for the beneficial rains, I would like a short period of drying out, so I can get my yard mowed. Prior to the rains, I did not have any grass to mow, then since the rains began, it’s been too wet to mow.
5-13-09
#434
Sunday morning when I wakened and looked over at the clock with the large, lighted numbers, I noticed the face of the clock was black. Uh oh, I thought, something is wrong. I switched my bed lamp on, but the room was still dark.
When I went in the kitchen, Starr said, “Mother, I’ve already called the electric company about the power outage.”
I found it puzzling because I had not heard any thunder or seen any lightning during the night. I figured the power would come on in a few minutes.
Whenever any of the utility services are out, all I can think of is doing something that requires that particular service. Are you the same way?
As is my custom, I walked over to the coffee pot. Yes, there was coffee, but it was cold. I have a thing about cold coffee. It’s not for me.
The Sunday paper was lying on the table where Starr had placed it, but the room was much too dark to try to read it. I moved from room to room and each time I found myself clicking on the light switch, but no light came on.
When the water has been cut off for repairs or whatever reason, all I want to do is wash my hands or clean the sink, or some chore that requires water.
The family had been invited to daughter Gayle’s house for Mother’s Day dinner at noon. I remarked that it was a good thing Gayle cooks with gas because the rest of us use electricity. However, Gayle could not use her oven because it has the electric ignition.
We do tend to take all the modern conveniences for granted and normally do not even think about them until we are without that service.
One summer while our house was being built, we were living in the country. During that time, we hauled our drinking water in from town. The motor on the electric pump that provided the water we used for other things went out. My brother, his wife and four children had come to spend the night with us. We had no water.
If memory serves me right, we used some of our drinking water in the bathtub and had the children to get in, one by one, and wash their feet. My sister-in-law who grew up in the country said, “This really reminds me of home, when I was growing up.”
It’s a shame we don’t recognize how fortunate we are to be able to enjoy these services we have today, and to be grateful for them. I doubt that many would want to go back to the days of having to draw water from a well, or use kerosene lamps and wood stoves.
As thankful as I am for the beneficial rains, I would like a short period of drying out, so I can get my yard mowed. Prior to the rains, I did not have any grass to mow, then since the rains began, it’s been too wet to mow.
5-13-09
#434
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Staying in Touch a Nice Gift
Several weeks ago both my brother and my sister who live in the Dallas area sent me messages regarding the 80th anniversary of our high school, Woodrow Wilson. This information was published in the April 24, 2009 issue of The Dallas Morning News.
Scheduled for the Saturday morning celebration was a pep rally followed by a parade. Grand marshal of the parade was to be Carroll Shelby, the legendary racecar driver and creator of the Shelby Cobra and Shelby Mustang.
Shelby graduated in 1940, two years prior to my graduation. I thought what a grand event this was, although many from the classes of that time would no longer be around to join in the celebration. In addition, twenty new inductees into the school’s hall of fame were to be honored.
I have never been fortunate enough to return to Dallas for any of the previous anniversaries or reunions. A friend who lives in the Dallas area offered to take me to the 65th reunion of our class of 1942 back in 2007,but it didn’t work out for me.
I seriously doubt that I would recognize very many of those who are still able to join in the activities of that class, and likely there would be even fewer who would recognize me.
We are still fortunate enough to have a class newsletter published periodically with lots of news items and photos. The first time I received this newsletter, I was shocked to see that most of those photos were of persons with gray hair and wearing glasses.
Just like me, I thought. I did not feel quite so bad.
Since Starr has been home and has gotten in touch with her friends and schoolmates, she has joined in helping organize a 40th school reunion of her class. Many phone calls in connection with this planned event have been made, as well as email messages.
Searching old school yearbooks for students’ names helps to locate some of these friends, but that does not always work.
I find it strange that so many of the graduates who still live here do not attend the reunions of their classes or the all school reunions. If for no other reason, I think they would want to come out of curiosity and check on the ones who live in other places.
It seems to me that it would be much easier to locate these missing students because the senior classes are so much smaller, but if they move away and do not keep in touch with friends or relatives in their hometowns, then it’s still a difficult chore to locate some of them.
A number of young men from the more than 500 students in my senior class were killed during World War II. Many of them went directly from high school to military service, and never returned.
Some persons from my high school classes are no longer able to attend these events, but the fact that the editor of our class newsletter is still interested enough to keep us in touch is an outstanding gift to all of us.
5-6-2009
#433
Scheduled for the Saturday morning celebration was a pep rally followed by a parade. Grand marshal of the parade was to be Carroll Shelby, the legendary racecar driver and creator of the Shelby Cobra and Shelby Mustang.
Shelby graduated in 1940, two years prior to my graduation. I thought what a grand event this was, although many from the classes of that time would no longer be around to join in the celebration. In addition, twenty new inductees into the school’s hall of fame were to be honored.
I have never been fortunate enough to return to Dallas for any of the previous anniversaries or reunions. A friend who lives in the Dallas area offered to take me to the 65th reunion of our class of 1942 back in 2007,but it didn’t work out for me.
I seriously doubt that I would recognize very many of those who are still able to join in the activities of that class, and likely there would be even fewer who would recognize me.
We are still fortunate enough to have a class newsletter published periodically with lots of news items and photos. The first time I received this newsletter, I was shocked to see that most of those photos were of persons with gray hair and wearing glasses.
Just like me, I thought. I did not feel quite so bad.
Since Starr has been home and has gotten in touch with her friends and schoolmates, she has joined in helping organize a 40th school reunion of her class. Many phone calls in connection with this planned event have been made, as well as email messages.
Searching old school yearbooks for students’ names helps to locate some of these friends, but that does not always work.
I find it strange that so many of the graduates who still live here do not attend the reunions of their classes or the all school reunions. If for no other reason, I think they would want to come out of curiosity and check on the ones who live in other places.
It seems to me that it would be much easier to locate these missing students because the senior classes are so much smaller, but if they move away and do not keep in touch with friends or relatives in their hometowns, then it’s still a difficult chore to locate some of them.
A number of young men from the more than 500 students in my senior class were killed during World War II. Many of them went directly from high school to military service, and never returned.
Some persons from my high school classes are no longer able to attend these events, but the fact that the editor of our class newsletter is still interested enough to keep us in touch is an outstanding gift to all of us.
5-6-2009
#433
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