Happy Phriday
This is the speech I gave at my 50th high school class reunion last week. Readers, I realize not all of you will get some of the references/jokes as you wont know the people I am talking about. But you will get the jest and the gest.
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Sammie’s Journal: Class of ‘74 Reunion
The Next
Welcome everyone to the game show: Who has gained the most weight, lost the most hair, and is the most unrecognizable: Otherwise known as a class reunion.
To look good for all my old girlfriends tonight, I had planned to lose 10 pounds before this reunion. I missed my goal by 13 pounds.
I am looking out at all of you, the tail end of the Baby Boomers. The last offspring to have been raised by the WWII, Korean War, and Cold War generations. We might be a different. You don’t know stress until you have had to hold the flashlight while your dad, a Korean War veteran, worked on the car in the dark in February.
My side kick Mark Lipps was supposed to be here with me tonight. We do a podcast together called GoodEnough. Unfortunately, his farm is part of a county-wide festival this weekend. He chose not to leave his wife alone. So he chose life and marriage over being with us here tonight.
He sends his regrets and love. Oh yeah, he asked me to read this letter to you all.
Pulls out the envelope
Hey class of 74. If you ever find yourself in Northern California in the Clear Lake area, check out the Ripe Choice. It’s a farm to table event space with an Airbnb. Hosted by chef Tammy Lipps. The Ripe Choice is always the right choice for your next celebration.
(toss letter on the floor with a show of apparent disgust)
He was always a shameless self promoter.
I am truly honored to be speaking to you all on this 50th anniversary of our graduation of MTVSH. When Becky Boady….I mean Becky Deaton (show of hands, who thinks Bill Deaton married over his head?) When Becky asked if I would say a few words I thought to myself: What happened to the first person she asked. Did they die or something?
Looking out here at all these dear faces I have known so long, and in some cases, all of my life. I would say the class of '74 has aged real good. That’s not always the case.
For example, have you seen the class of 73 lately? Wow, time has not been good to them. Terri and I happened to be in town during one of their reunions and decided to crash it towards the end of the evening as we knew that Kyle and Mike Bevis would be there. When we got to event space where they were supposed to be, I wasn’t sure we were in the right room.
It looked like sales convention for nursing home time-shares. To get the suckers in the door they were giving away tickets to see the Bald Knobers in Branson MO.
Anyway, you all look good.
We are all gathered this weekend to remember, relive, ruminate, on our high school years. I have come to understand that there really is no universal high school experience. All of us were on our own path. For four years we traveled our paths close together, in parallel. But once we graduated our paths suddenly diverged. Nearly 400 different paths launched into the world.
Some of us went to college, some of us went to work, a few of us like Maxie Moore and Pat Dowler went into the military. The military was not a popular thing in those days. Pat Dowler, god rest his soul, remember him? He played center for our basket ball team. Pat went into the submarine core. What I always wondered was: How in hell did they fit him into a one of those submarines?
Many took paths that were obvious and well worn. Some took the path less trodden. And a few of you made your own path…and got out after 8 years on good behavior.
My high school experience was a little like the scene in the movie Gladiator. When Maximus, played by Russel Crow, and the other gladiators were huddled in the middle of the arena waiting on what comes next...which is most likely certain death. Maximus says,
"Whatever comes out of these gates, we've got a better chance of survival if we work together. Do you understand? If we stay together we survive."
So for most of our young lives we all stayed together. Our little band of kids from Summersville grade school grew up together. It felt that we all were on one path. From year to year there was little change in the faces we saw each day. From year to year we studied the same subjects. From year to year we had the same teacher. From year to year we advanced to the next grade by moving from one room to another in the same building. From year to year, the same kids were first ones out of dodge ball.
Going from a cozy rural school into the big city high school was exciting and terrifying. On my first class on the first day of high school, I knew no one in the class. My first terrified thought was: Who can I trust in this class to laugh at my stupid jokes?
To change classes we not only had to change rooms but we had to walk to another building in the mud, in the snow, in the rain...always uphill and into the wind. And back then we didn’t have no stinking backpacks. We carried fifty pounds of textbooks like you are supposed to…on your hip. That’s why you now have a trick knee, carpel tunnel, and hip that needs replacing.
Up to this point in our short lives we never had so many new things rushing at us at once.
Yet, I felt lucky compared to some kids. I am a bit of an extrovert. I can tell a joke to break the ice.
For example: What’s green and fuzzy and if it falls from a tree and hits your head it will kill you dead?
Answer: A pool table.
I had some social survival skills. But I knew other kids who did not, and I saw them suffer. I am sure that some of you saw the same thing. I suspect that those who suffered the worst of it are not here tonight. I can name at least three of them who did not even make it to graduation. High school can be a time of severe isolation. I fear modern times have made this worse.
I managed to avoid the isolation trap. But I was Not a Standout in high school.
I was not on the basketball or football teams. I was not on student council. I was not into theater...although Mark Lipps talked me into trying out for a play so I could be yelled at by Jim Miller.
The best for me in high school was Ms. Hall's literature class. Our class was tucked down in a little basement room in B building. It was a small class of quirky kids who had nothing in common but a love of reading and literature. I felt at home here with this odd lot.
Ms. Hall introduced us to Robert Heinlein’s, Stranger in A Strange Land. Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations. Edgar Allan Poe’s dark poem, “Annabel Lee”. And Robert Frost’s poem, “The Road Not Taken”. A poem I still read a couple times each year. But it was J. D. Salinger’s Cather in the Rye that knocked my socks off. In the book, 16 year old Holden Caulfield was struggling with things I was struggling with. He could not figure out what was supposed to be NEXT.
It amazes me now that I have remembered so few details of my high school years, but I clearly remember those works of literature. I guess that’s the power of literature. It has been said that books can save your life. And I am certain there were kids in that class who were hanging on those books as if they were life preservers. Because they were life preservers.
The worst for me in high school a Cappella choir. My mother had a vision of grandeur. She believed our family was the undiscovered Von Traps, The Osmonds or The Jackson 5. So she forced all of her kids to take Voice I and a Cappella choir.
The problem with her logic is this: I cannot sing. I had no prior musical training and I suddenly found myself in W. H. Beckmeyer class.
And I had Beckmeyer for 3 years of my life. In that three years I learned nothing about music and I still cannot sing. But what I did learn in that class was how to prepare to deal with what was beyond those doors that Maximus faced in Gladiator.
For example, in choir we faced over and over again the terror of "Challenges". Challenges, if you don't know, is where an individual student stands up from their seat and with the entire room full of classmates watching, Beckmeyer plays one note on the piano and the student attempts to sing the selected song as long as possible before hitting the first wrong note or missed beat and at that inevitable error, Beckmeyer would shout, “Down.” The next sweaty victim would arise.
The one who sung it best would be awarded First Chair. In my three years of a Capella choir, I successfully defended on a weekly basis, the last chair. I pretty much owned the last chair. As long as I was there, no one in the tenor section had to worry about last chair.
Beckmeyer once told me, Kid you are genetically tone-deaf. Tone-def. I went around school telling everyone. l was proud of that until John McGill told me what it meant.
I mean I was in a room with people like Lisa who had perfect pitch. You could ask her to sing a middle C and she would sing it perfectly. A room full of talented people except for me.
To be honest, the highlight of my day in a Capella class was before the start of class. Students used the fire escape on the back of F building to get to the top of F building without going through F building. I dutifully waited at the bottom of the fire escape until the last girl made it safely to the top landing. I was that kind of guy. You shop guys knew this secret and kept a secret.
I thought I might become an architect. I did like drafting class. I liked to draw. In drafting class we started with drawing house foundations. They were simple and easy to draw. Then we worked our way up to more architectural designs and elevation renderings. That’s were you put the Art in Architecture. At the end of my senior year, Mr. Manker stood beside my drafting table and told me, Sammie if you get a job in an architectural firm, you need to stick with foundation drawing. I could hear Scott Creel sniggering behind me.
As much as I loved writing and literature, I was failing English my junior year. Mr. Deforest told me Sammie, Your verbs don’t conjugate and your participles are dangling. Man, I grew up a Southern Baptist I was pretty sure if I had any participles they wouldn’t be dangling.
Frank Kassner, David Kassner’s dad and my math teacher, once told me that I should not consider anything like an engineering profession. His advice was that I should even shy away from anything to do with fractions…or for that matter anything with decimals.
Jack Overstreet got me into Speech Club with Mike Scott. After a couple of session, Mr. Scott came to me and said that maybe the Amateur Radio club would be better for me. You know that club where they practice telegraph and learned morse code. You know, Morse code…the thing we use every day.
After taking the SAT I had a meeting with my student councilor, Ron Wilson. As we reviewed my scores he asked me “Were your high the day you took this test?
To be honest I could not rule that out.
Then Mr. Wilson handed me an application. Not to an Ivy League school. Not to a big ten college. Not even to Rend Lake community college. He handed me an application to the new tire plant being built outside of town.
He might as well said, Your feet stink, you’re a liar, and you don't love Jesus.
I filled out the application for General Tire. It might have been the second smartest thing I did in 1974. I eventually spent 22 years there discovering what I might be next for me.
By my senior year I began to realize that getting high sitting in a car in the high school parking lot with Mike, Greg, and Bob during second period while listening to Bohemian Rhapsody at volume of 11 and drumming on the dashboard…was not a resume builder.
Years later after seeing Mike Meyer’s movie, Wayne’s World I realized that telling your story about getting high while listening to Bohemian Rhapsody and drumming on the dash of your car could make you rich.
Thanks a lot Mr. Wilson for not suggesting comedy writer as a career path.
I was sick of high school by my senior year. So sick of it I was ready for those Russel Crow doors to fly open and face man-eating tigers or killer clowns.
Then one really good thing happened to me. The best thing that happened to me in my entire high school life and maybe my entire life.
I was at a keg party out in Summerville my buddy Cliff Pierce was having because his mom and dad were out of town…and they trusted him not to have a keg party. I said to Cliff, “Who is that pretty little blonde over there on the couch with the big…(arthritic hands cupped before me) smile?” He said, “That is Terri Reed.” He took me over and introduced us. I said hi and she said hi and that was just about it. But the fire was lit. The passion burned. She had to have me….And she spent the last couple of months of my senior year chasing me until she let me catch her.
So this brings us to the night we all graduated in 1974.
As many in this room did that night, I attended Hondo’s elegant soiree otherwise known as a keg party. It was at Hondo’s mom and dad’s house, John and Ann Howard. If you did not know about this party, you had not attended the graduation ceremony where it had been announced by the superintendent of schools, JD Shields. Yes, those were different days.
Hondo’s crew officiated the party: Jimmy, R Neal, Ray, Olin, et al. making sure everyone had a cup and the keg was at all times properly pumped.
I sat on the bottom steps of the stairs that led up to the second story of John and Ann's house. I was drinking beer from a Solo cup and not having fun. Let me say that again...I was at a keg party and not having fun.
For the first time in my life, I had no idea what was NEXT. I was suddenly terrified. I was suddenly convicted. If you are a good Southern Baptist you know what I am talking about. Conviction is a feeling of being on the edge of an epiphany yet you need to do something physical in order to understand it.
What was the one thing I might make happen?
I left the keg party full of anxiety and dread…and about 2 gallons of Budweiser beer in my belly. And much like the dude in Robert Frost’s poem I took the road less traveled… Why? Because I had no car. Mike, Greg, and Rex left me stranded. They headed out to the Miller Lake for the after party, keg party.
I walked out of John and Ann’s house and walked down Pavey Ave. past the house I would one day buy and raise a family in. I walked down Pace Ave. I walked down the hill past Good Samaritan hospital. I walked and back up the hill to 16th street to a yellow two-story house.
At one o’clock in the morning I threw pebbles at dark bedroom window…you know that was how we texted back then. A light came on then Terri Jane appeared on the front porch.
Right there and then I got down on my knees….and I threw up in the bushes. She refused to make-out with me that night. But I did I declared my love for her. And I did feel like a bit of the weight of the world was lifted from me. It gave me something next…. That is a powerful thing to have something next.
So, after declaring my love, she declared, "You need to get the heck out of here before you wake up my dad."
I walked the dark streets and sidewalks all the way back to Summerville. Do you know why? Because I had no car. I was pretty much sober when I got home and I was a different person and I had something NEXT.
As Robert Frost said, The path less taken, It has made all the difference.
Terri and I have been married a long time and I can tell you there is no easy path to it. Recently Terri said to me, "For 48 years all you have done nothing but contradict me." I said, "Nope, we have been married 47 years."
I am a fortunate man and I know it.
Both of our daughters Candice and Samantha live with their husbands in Bloomington near me and Terri. Terri and I are very involved in the lives of our three grandchildren. Augustine, Olive and Caprice.
Looking at the class of '74, I know all of our paths have led to different experiences in our lives. Some of our paths have been close together and some of our paths have been far afield. Yet, we all know these paths will sooner or later finally merge. Hemingway wrote about it. Shakespeare dramatized it. Jesus Christ spoke about it.
Until then, I think we still have work to do. Maybe some of the best work of our lives. What do you say to that?
Well, as I thought about what words of wisdom I would share today it occurred to me that I would be speaking to a room full of wise people. Much wiser than the people who were at our ten year class reunion. People who have gained wisdom through years of experience, the pursuit of knowledge, trials and tribulations, attempts and failures…even through bad choices.
At this point if you are not wise….it aint gonna happen. I am sorry, it just aint’.
So what we have to offer the world today is a high level of wisdom. Why do you see so many people our age on boards of directors? Steering committees? Leaders in your church? Volunteers of non-profits? When a wise person influences others one cannot say what the long term affect will be on others and therefore how those others will affect the world. An affect that might well go on after we are all long gone.
Now, we are the generation of advisors. We are becoming The Elders. Many in this room still have big things to do. And yes before you begin that BIG thing, you might need a nap. And yes, maybe we don’t walk fast but we never take a step backwards.
What will you do NEXT?
I hope the last 50 years have been as good for all of you as it has been for me. And I pray that the days we have left are just as good and fruitful and just as blessed. Once again, thank you for this honor of speaking tonight.
My toast is: Here is to you the MTVHS Class of 1974. May we reign forever in the hearts and minds of those to follow us.. May God bless us and our families and may God bless the United States of America.
Mike’s Friday Funnies:
Apple really is the most futuristic company out there. They have already adjusted their prices for the next 50 years of inflation! A policeman is driving past a roadside apple stand when he notices the sign: "Apple seeds, guaranteed to make you smarter, $20 per seed." He pulls over and informs the vendor that it is fraud and false advertising to make absurd claims like this. "No, no, no," the vendor tells the cop, "my apples are a special variety. A scientific miracle. Buy just one seed, eat it, and you will notice an increase in intelligence. If not, I promise to refund your 20 dollars." "Alright," says the cop. "But, if this doesn't work, I'm shutting your operation down." He hands over a 20 dollar bill, takes the seed, chews it up, and waits for it to kick in. After a few moments, he says, "You know, even if you're not lying, I could have bought a whole bag of your apples and had enough seeds to last me months." "Ah, yes!" says the vendor. "It's working already!" What’s worse than finding a worm in your apple? Finding half of a worm. What's the worst part of an apple addiction? You can't see a doctor about it. China has now banned its military personnel from using Apple watches due to security reasons. One soldier says with tears in his eyes “but my daughter made it for me”. A man using Apple maps walks into a bar. Or a pharmacy, or maybe a shoe store. What is a doctor who specializes in Adam's apples called? A guyneckologist. Elon Musk has come up with a fool proof plan for destroying Apple because they refuse to advertise on Twitter. He plans to buy Apple.
Moment of Zen
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👍🏼 Got "the jest”—AND the gist!