My East St. Louis high school graduating class of 1957, has held a Class Reunion every five (5) years. Next year, we will assemble (God willing) for our 60th anniversary...oh, my! Talk about some old farts.
As I recall reflecting on those early class reunions, the fellas had a good 'dapper-looking run' for reunions 5-10-15 while the ladies were fighting the physical and mental onslaught of child bearing and work. Then beginning with reunion #20, the gals started making 'Dolly's Back-In-Town' come back looks and the cool cat fellas were loosing their hair and letting their trousers out a couple of inches.
My wife graduated one year behind me and her class has also kept up a five year reunion pace. I particularly enjoy her reunion equally as well as mine. She attended an all girls Catholic school, which reunion-co-ops with an all boys Catholic school. Since all those Catholic kiddos went to several different grade school Parishes in our city of 85,000. When the reunion photo call for each Parish is offered, I slip into most photos sessions. I know, I know, I'm the uncouth 'Protestant outsider' that rustled away the best-looking from their flock.
At one of my wife's class reunions, I was asked by their organizing committee to DJ the Reunion. With over 600 classic 45's, 259 LP's and an untold CD count, I could cover such a program.
I remember during that evening, I received many love song requests. I was delighted to oblige. Near the evening's end when most people's 'glow' was resembling zombie-like expressions, someone shouted out, "Hey, Roustio...let's hear the song that you THINK is the greatest love song of all times. I immediately cued up Carly Simon's rendition of "The Itsy Bitsy Spider." There was some loud laughter from the crowd along with a boo or two. If asked the question today or next year and I'll state the case again, "The Itsy Bitsy Spider."
I ask you, close your eyes right this moment and recall, if you will, the look on a young child's face when you ever sang that song showing the accompanying hand movements...you remember the excited joy in that trusting and believing face? I stand by my love song choice..."The Itsy Bitsy Spider."
Post Script: Circumstances prohibits me from walks down my East St. Louis memory lanes. Therefore, I do the next best thing. Between those reunions, I telephone old classmates just to check in and let them know that I love them.
Monday, July 18, 2016
Friday, July 15, 2016
It's Scary!
The general population's 'dot-connecting-thinking-abilities' would be humorist if it was not so bizarre. I'm speaking of those people who embrace and advance the notion that President Barrack Obama is some how responsible for increased strained relations amongst the races in America. Apparently, these mental giants assumed that electing a 'Black Man' President would somehow solve America's longstanding prejudices, hate language and discrimination. How simple can a mind be in a body that walks upright?
These baseless charges are driven along political party lines. This language rolls off lips of those that refuse to accept a reality that Saddam Hussein kept stability in the Middle East, therefore when he was toppled by our troops all hell broke loose in a region, which continues to be in chaos.
On the heels of any American gun massacres these same minds think quickly to blame the problem on mental health issues or not enough civilians armed with weapons...never is the problem too many guns, too many assault weapons or lacking gun-control background checks...but hey, we have a Black President therefore we should have no more race problems. Wow!
Ps. Dare not challenge these 'deep thinkers' who believe 'global warming' is a liberal conspiracy hoax.
What do they say about urine in a boot...?
These baseless charges are driven along political party lines. This language rolls off lips of those that refuse to accept a reality that Saddam Hussein kept stability in the Middle East, therefore when he was toppled by our troops all hell broke loose in a region, which continues to be in chaos.
On the heels of any American gun massacres these same minds think quickly to blame the problem on mental health issues or not enough civilians armed with weapons...never is the problem too many guns, too many assault weapons or lacking gun-control background checks...but hey, we have a Black President therefore we should have no more race problems. Wow!
Ps. Dare not challenge these 'deep thinkers' who believe 'global warming' is a liberal conspiracy hoax.
What do they say about urine in a boot...?
Thursday, July 14, 2016
A Classic Goose & Gander
She (Ruth Bader Ginsburg) is a Supreme Court Justice. He (Donald Trump) wishes to be the leader of the free world. Both appear to be significant gigs carrying much prestige and expected dignity, eh?
Well...GOP presumptive Presidential nominee, Donald Trump wants an apology from Supreme Court Justice, Ruth Bader Ginsburg for her blistering negative comments about Trump. Without question, Ginsburg is out of profile character as a Supreme Court Justice with her partisan attack remarks against Trump's candidacy. I said she was out of character but she is NOT off base. Let me explain...
On the flip side of this fresh political quarrel are three points to be considered. Well, considered if one has a desire to examine two-sides of an issue. For those folks who dispise considering other opinions they can file the debate with their denial of Global warming evidence. That would be filed under, 'Don't confuse me, my mind is made up the world is flat.'
Okay, consider:
(1) Justice Ginsburg's comments break no laws and breaks no rules. (2) If Trump's charm and appeal to his followers is that he rebukes 'political correctness' with his off-the-wall statements and his unconventional push-back against 'the establishment' then Ginsburg gets a pass...she's like Trump.
(3) Until Trump apologizes to the disabled man he mimicked, apologizes for demeaning Carly Fiorina's facial looks, apologizes to Megan Kelly for publicly suggesting she was menstruating and retracts the lies he's stated about Muslims and Hispanics he should 'go pound salt' while waiting for ANYONE to ever apologize to him.
Well...GOP presumptive Presidential nominee, Donald Trump wants an apology from Supreme Court Justice, Ruth Bader Ginsburg for her blistering negative comments about Trump. Without question, Ginsburg is out of profile character as a Supreme Court Justice with her partisan attack remarks against Trump's candidacy. I said she was out of character but she is NOT off base. Let me explain...
On the flip side of this fresh political quarrel are three points to be considered. Well, considered if one has a desire to examine two-sides of an issue. For those folks who dispise considering other opinions they can file the debate with their denial of Global warming evidence. That would be filed under, 'Don't confuse me, my mind is made up the world is flat.'
Okay, consider:
(1) Justice Ginsburg's comments break no laws and breaks no rules. (2) If Trump's charm and appeal to his followers is that he rebukes 'political correctness' with his off-the-wall statements and his unconventional push-back against 'the establishment' then Ginsburg gets a pass...she's like Trump.
(3) Until Trump apologizes to the disabled man he mimicked, apologizes for demeaning Carly Fiorina's facial looks, apologizes to Megan Kelly for publicly suggesting she was menstruating and retracts the lies he's stated about Muslims and Hispanics he should 'go pound salt' while waiting for ANYONE to ever apologize to him.
Wednesday, July 13, 2016
Playing 'your hand."
Two weeks ago, I met with Springfield Clinic Nurse, Jill who is my Wellness Coordinator. She is the medical facilitator who assembles all my various Doctors' visit summaries, test results information and then explains interpretations, answers questions and updates a personal portfolio, which I take with me on trips.
Nurse Jill reviewed my family history, which I am sure is a head-scratcher for most people. My mother's people, siblings etc., all lived well into their late eighties and nineties some pushing the century mark. On the other hand, my father's clan found journey finish lines in the late sixties to mid-seventies...DNA is indeed nature's crap-shoot game, eh?
My mother died at age 93 and one of her sisters lived to age 99. I recall both making comments in respective latter-years how they were 'ready to meet the Lord.' Selfishly, I wanted them to be around forever. Today as years pass and I say goodbyes to family and friends I've come to understand my Mother and Aunt's loneliness on earth.
My Father was much different in his life participation view. He was always looking forward to the next family gathering or event. Understand, this man grew up poor in Washington Park (East St. Louis).
He served in General Patton's 3rd Army and returned to work his way into the business world and become one of those self-made successes...realizing that American 'dream.'
At age 54, he suffered a massive heart attack and nearly died as he spent thirty days in Barnes Jewish Hospital. Cutting edge medicine of the day and his absolute faith in his God and Doctors kept him going for 21 more years. It was periodic heart failures that eventually eroded the ability of his heart to sustain life. When I take note of my brother, Tom's LVAD heart pump surgery, I think how our Dad would have jumped on that option had it been available back in the day as did his son.
I could blabber on with Dad stories in some attempt to suggest my Dad was the best but I'll close with a story regarding his final day. In late May, when he entered Barnes Hostipal for the last time with another heart failure episode. This time their would be no shock treatment to stabilize 'rhythm' and there was no more 'wonder drugs' to do magic. As they broke that news to my Father with family gathered around, he commented, " I must play the hand dealt to me." And , Oh, how he played it! In a show of professional care and concern for a cardiac patient well-known, several Doctors and Nurses stood outside my Father's hospital room that moment as an orderly guided his gurney through the open door on the way to the third floor where he would be made comfortable embracing death. These medical people shook Dad's hand and expressed their sorrow that no more could be done. The 75-year old warrior consoled THEM as he smiled and thanked each for their "wonderful care." On May 27, 1994 my Father left his earthly journey and also his final act of class and dignity.
Nurse Jill reviewed my family history, which I am sure is a head-scratcher for most people. My mother's people, siblings etc., all lived well into their late eighties and nineties some pushing the century mark. On the other hand, my father's clan found journey finish lines in the late sixties to mid-seventies...DNA is indeed nature's crap-shoot game, eh?
My mother died at age 93 and one of her sisters lived to age 99. I recall both making comments in respective latter-years how they were 'ready to meet the Lord.' Selfishly, I wanted them to be around forever. Today as years pass and I say goodbyes to family and friends I've come to understand my Mother and Aunt's loneliness on earth.
My Father was much different in his life participation view. He was always looking forward to the next family gathering or event. Understand, this man grew up poor in Washington Park (East St. Louis).
He served in General Patton's 3rd Army and returned to work his way into the business world and become one of those self-made successes...realizing that American 'dream.'
At age 54, he suffered a massive heart attack and nearly died as he spent thirty days in Barnes Jewish Hospital. Cutting edge medicine of the day and his absolute faith in his God and Doctors kept him going for 21 more years. It was periodic heart failures that eventually eroded the ability of his heart to sustain life. When I take note of my brother, Tom's LVAD heart pump surgery, I think how our Dad would have jumped on that option had it been available back in the day as did his son.
I could blabber on with Dad stories in some attempt to suggest my Dad was the best but I'll close with a story regarding his final day. In late May, when he entered Barnes Hostipal for the last time with another heart failure episode. This time their would be no shock treatment to stabilize 'rhythm' and there was no more 'wonder drugs' to do magic. As they broke that news to my Father with family gathered around, he commented, " I must play the hand dealt to me." And , Oh, how he played it! In a show of professional care and concern for a cardiac patient well-known, several Doctors and Nurses stood outside my Father's hospital room that moment as an orderly guided his gurney through the open door on the way to the third floor where he would be made comfortable embracing death. These medical people shook Dad's hand and expressed their sorrow that no more could be done. The 75-year old warrior consoled THEM as he smiled and thanked each for their "wonderful care." On May 27, 1994 my Father left his earthly journey and also his final act of class and dignity.
Tuesday, July 12, 2016
No time for hobbies
Coming out of church last Sunday, a gentleman walking beside me commented, "Beautiful afternoon, I'll bet you're headed for the golf course later." I answered, "Nope, don't golf since three back surgeries." I suppose he felt the need to pursue the inquiry and added, "What hobbies do you have?" Obliging, I began with an answer when the fella's wife beckoned him to carry something. Therefore, left holding my answer this past week, I thought I'd unload it with you readers.
In a nut shell, I read, I write, I listen to '50s / '60's oldies, I watch baseball games and I sit quietly for 20-minutes each morning in the bright sunshine with a cup of coffe on one side of the swing and Toy Poodle, Yodie on the other side. Mid afternoon, I head to Snap Fitness for a light workout provided I'm not engaged in yard chores. I find another 20-minutes to sit with a bottle of Ale while barbqueing...yep, Yodie is nearby. The past 2 1/2 years I have assumed 85% of the cooking responsibilities. My wife is happy to allow me the adventure into the world of gourmet vittles preparation...I love it!
Two times a week, I spend about an hour in my office 'burning' 45 oldies vinyl record songs onto CD's to mail as a surprise gift to friends...some whom I have not seen in years.
I usually wake up each day between 5:30. & 6:00AM. I post my blog, read the local news paper, check through Internet news and local weather. I take my wife breakfast each morning to our bedroom where we check signals for the day and watch some Today Show.
I mentioned that I write. I never miss a day without putting thought on paper for at least one hour.
My writings are frequently shared with children and grandchildren but most efforts have focused on the challenges of coaching and parenting the athlete. I have written two extensive documents, which chronicle my life's journey with my wife, Gerry. Our children have these documents.
I have had the honor of presenting 16 eulogies for friends and acquaintances. My eldest daughter, laughing but half serious said, "Dad, write your own eulogy and give it to me." I suggested to her that never works...using the words of another when expressing the heart.
In a nut shell, I read, I write, I listen to '50s / '60's oldies, I watch baseball games and I sit quietly for 20-minutes each morning in the bright sunshine with a cup of coffe on one side of the swing and Toy Poodle, Yodie on the other side. Mid afternoon, I head to Snap Fitness for a light workout provided I'm not engaged in yard chores. I find another 20-minutes to sit with a bottle of Ale while barbqueing...yep, Yodie is nearby. The past 2 1/2 years I have assumed 85% of the cooking responsibilities. My wife is happy to allow me the adventure into the world of gourmet vittles preparation...I love it!
Two times a week, I spend about an hour in my office 'burning' 45 oldies vinyl record songs onto CD's to mail as a surprise gift to friends...some whom I have not seen in years.
I usually wake up each day between 5:30. & 6:00AM. I post my blog, read the local news paper, check through Internet news and local weather. I take my wife breakfast each morning to our bedroom where we check signals for the day and watch some Today Show.
I mentioned that I write. I never miss a day without putting thought on paper for at least one hour.
My writings are frequently shared with children and grandchildren but most efforts have focused on the challenges of coaching and parenting the athlete. I have written two extensive documents, which chronicle my life's journey with my wife, Gerry. Our children have these documents.
I have had the honor of presenting 16 eulogies for friends and acquaintances. My eldest daughter, laughing but half serious said, "Dad, write your own eulogy and give it to me." I suggested to her that never works...using the words of another when expressing the heart.
Monday, July 11, 2016
Fearing for America
I fear that the violent behavior playing out in America and the growing divisive rhetoric spewed by our elected officials is indicative of what 'giving up hope' may look like.
Everywhere we turn we see and hear negative finger-pointing blame usually along ethnic, racial and political lines. There is a constant verbal-barrage from media pundit extremists who ignore common courtesies while pretetuating a self-serving agenda as they communicate innuendos and half-truths. Many times their rhetoric is loaded with fear-mongering language.
At the core of all this evil is the ever factual quarreling between the haves and have nots. The uneducated is manipulated with false promises and blame for their sad plight is placed on their nearest totem-pole brothers and sisters. This is done by the wealthy elite who smugly tell their stories of success over Yacht Club martinis.
This behavior dates back to the colonial settlements. The only difference is that the ugliness travels more quickly through Twenty-first century social media.
Everywhere we turn we see and hear negative finger-pointing blame usually along ethnic, racial and political lines. There is a constant verbal-barrage from media pundit extremists who ignore common courtesies while pretetuating a self-serving agenda as they communicate innuendos and half-truths. Many times their rhetoric is loaded with fear-mongering language.
At the core of all this evil is the ever factual quarreling between the haves and have nots. The uneducated is manipulated with false promises and blame for their sad plight is placed on their nearest totem-pole brothers and sisters. This is done by the wealthy elite who smugly tell their stories of success over Yacht Club martinis.
This behavior dates back to the colonial settlements. The only difference is that the ugliness travels more quickly through Twenty-first century social media.
Saturday, July 9, 2016
I Would if Only I Could
Often times when our entire family gathers, I look around surveying fifteen grandchildren and a feeling of guilt enters my thoughts. I know in my heart of hearts they have been denied living in tranquility. Let me explain my feelings.
St. Louis, Missouri ranks #1 in violent crime in America. The East St. Louis, Illinois neighborhood from Caseyville Avenue to City Center is the ranked # 1 as the most violent crime neighborhood in America where 100.2 violent crimes per 1,000 people occurs. My wife and I grew up in East St. Louis. I lived near the intersection of Caseyville Avenue and Kingshighway (Washington Park) and my wife at 43rd & Caseyville Avenue. We walked to neighborhood theaters in 1953. We rode bikes all over East St. Louis in the 1940's and '50's. Young boys in little league baseball uniforms were always seen hitchhiking to the Central City Jones Park. Walking through downtown East St. Louis at night and across the Eads Bridge over the Mighty Mississippi River into St. Louis gave young eyes a magnificent view of city lights flickering on the river's muddy waters. On sweltering summer nights with no benefit of air conditioning, we slept by unlocked screen doors with no fear but only hope for a cool breeze.
As we aged, we became aware that there were some unsavory people in our midst but good was always triumphant. Fears, anger and divisiveness was not constantly driven by 24/7 television reporting. We knew that policemen had guns but the thought of a neighbor having a military-type assault gun was unimaginable. We lived in a tranquil environment. We felt strong family love and a truly caring neighborly love.
Our American neighborhoods no longer hear the evening voices of children calling out: "1-2-3 on Terry, hiding behind Ms. LeRoy's garage;" no longer the admonishment from a young girl's voice "You forgot to say Mother May I." No longer do adolescent boys hang out under street lights singing the pop hits and telling exaggerated stories. No, those young voices are driven inside behind walls for fear of the unsafe neighborhood...and with that the tranquil joyous youthful spirit is diminished in the "Land of of Free and the Home of the Brave."
Yes, when I look into the beautiful faces of 15 grandchildren and two great grandchildren, I feel guilty...with all the love I have for them I cannot give them yesterday's peace and tranquility.
St. Louis, Missouri ranks #1 in violent crime in America. The East St. Louis, Illinois neighborhood from Caseyville Avenue to City Center is the ranked # 1 as the most violent crime neighborhood in America where 100.2 violent crimes per 1,000 people occurs. My wife and I grew up in East St. Louis. I lived near the intersection of Caseyville Avenue and Kingshighway (Washington Park) and my wife at 43rd & Caseyville Avenue. We walked to neighborhood theaters in 1953. We rode bikes all over East St. Louis in the 1940's and '50's. Young boys in little league baseball uniforms were always seen hitchhiking to the Central City Jones Park. Walking through downtown East St. Louis at night and across the Eads Bridge over the Mighty Mississippi River into St. Louis gave young eyes a magnificent view of city lights flickering on the river's muddy waters. On sweltering summer nights with no benefit of air conditioning, we slept by unlocked screen doors with no fear but only hope for a cool breeze.
As we aged, we became aware that there were some unsavory people in our midst but good was always triumphant. Fears, anger and divisiveness was not constantly driven by 24/7 television reporting. We knew that policemen had guns but the thought of a neighbor having a military-type assault gun was unimaginable. We lived in a tranquil environment. We felt strong family love and a truly caring neighborly love.
Our American neighborhoods no longer hear the evening voices of children calling out: "1-2-3 on Terry, hiding behind Ms. LeRoy's garage;" no longer the admonishment from a young girl's voice "You forgot to say Mother May I." No longer do adolescent boys hang out under street lights singing the pop hits and telling exaggerated stories. No, those young voices are driven inside behind walls for fear of the unsafe neighborhood...and with that the tranquil joyous youthful spirit is diminished in the "Land of of Free and the Home of the Brave."
Yes, when I look into the beautiful faces of 15 grandchildren and two great grandchildren, I feel guilty...with all the love I have for them I cannot give them yesterday's peace and tranquility.
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