The Class of 63: Face to Face

Over the last few days, both Jennifer and I have alluded to the possibility of having a 45th class reunion. When the idea was first thrown out the question was would a 45th or a 50th be best. Well, let's face it, despite the fact that I can't believe that we are so close to our 45th the 50th seems pretty far out, so the 45th it is. Thankfully, our friend Jennifer has taken the proverbial bobcat by the tale and is moving on the idea. Jim and I are really excited by the prospect and we have said a definite yes to attendance as have several others.

The next question to be considered is the date. The thinking on this is that everyone needs a good year to firm up plans and arrangements so October of 2008 seems a likely date, perhaps around a long weekend like Columbus Day when many people have a little vacation.

Next to be considered is where would we like to meet for this reunion. Traditionally the reunions have been held in Childress. Now, nothing against Childress, but most of us think this would be a great time for something different. We need a place with easy access for everyone, a place that offers a variety of activities, and a place that allows for a really enjoyable time for everyone. Jennifer and her husband, Yahn, live in Las Vegas as most of you know, and she has graciously and enthusiastically volunteered (with a little help from her friends) to be our host for the reunion should we agree to meet there. She already has wonderful ideas for our time together which would include Friday evening, Saturday, and Sunday morning. I will let her share with us what she is thinking. I personally am really, really excited about going to Las Vegas for the reunion because it will give Jim and me and hopefully many of you the opportunity to see the musical "Jersey Boys"(if you so choose) which is will be in Vegas then. The play has been on Broadway in NY for a few years and I believe won a Tony for best musical. I have been dying to see it. The music is so appropriate for our age group and should bring back lots of memories. If you aren't familiar with the play check it out on the Internet.

The final decision for the time and place will be made soon. It would be wonderful to have input from everyone if you have not already responded. Please email me or Jennifer or even better, make a comment for everyone to see on this post.

You will be hearing much more from both of us in the next few days so stay with us and please, please let us her from you.

Home .... and Heart ... and Old Friends ....

Robert Frost wrote in his poem "The Death of the Hired Man":

... what else but home?
It all depends on what you mean by home.
...
Home is the place where, when you have to go there,
They have to take you in.

But, as the old idiom posits, home is also where the heart is. And the heart resides not only in the place where your head finds your pillow, where you are safe from rain and wind, where your family now surrounds you. Home is also held close in mind and memory, within our very souls ... memories of long-ago places, and well- or half-remembered faces, and friends and family and lovers long gone ... or perhaps just misplaced in the rush of life.

I recently traveled about a thousand miles (each way) over five days, from our present "home" in Las Vegas, through portions of southern Nevada, and Arizona, and New Mexico, and the Texas Panhandle, ultimately all the way to Childress, my "home" for sixteen years. I drove by my grandparents' house ... but Mamaw and Papa and Scott and Mother are of the past, though in my heart, and the house doesn't look the same, and it is no longer "home" to me, except to the extent that I am able to recall the love and life that once lived there. I drove by the "old" (our) high school (now the junior high school), and though the building looks very much like it did in 1963, it is not the "Home of the Bobcats" and of my youth that it once was to me. Yet "home" is in the faces of Raenell and Marilyn and Dana, and that welcomes and warms me.

I found my Childress "home" again, up the road in Amarillo, in Pat's bright greeting and hospitality, in the faces and eyes and the hugs exchanged with Nicki and Jim, and the conversation and reminiscences over coffee and bacon and eggs. So basic ... yet "home". And then I was in the "home" conjured by the music and lyrics of old familiar songs, scenes remembered and illuminated as I drove from Albuquerque on my return trip, watching the full, pale gold Hunter's Moon set in the last hour of darkness.

Now I am "home" again ... home as it is now, as Simon and Garfunkle sang, "home where my thoughts escaping ... where my love lies waiting, silently for me." In the "epitaph" for "Fiddler Jones" in Edgar Lee Masters' Spoon River Anthology", Masters writes in Jones' voice:

The earth keeps some vibration going
There in your heart, and that is you.
...
I ended up ... with a thousand memories
And not a single regret.

Regrets are poisonous ... cherish the "gold" and toss the dross.

There, in my e-mail, another vibration of "home" ... in a story from my dear friend, Jim Spradley, Sr., Mike's dad. It is a memory of Jim's old friend, "Doc" McConnell, Johnny's dad, and how Childress became the McConnells' home. And now I share it with you, with my hope that you will come "home" again and join us here on the blog ... and that you treasure and cherish your "thousand memories", as I do mine.

Jennifer

Thanks to Mike for the picture below of Jim Sr. and his dog Champ.

Jim Sr. said:

After learning of Johnny McConnell`s demise recently, I thought of the following true story concerning his Dad. Then, out of the blue, #2 Son Mike asked me to relate it to anyone who might be interested, so for what it`s worth, this it.

This is the story, as told to me by Dr. J.P."Doc" McConnell, DDS, Lt. Cmdr. USN, Ret, of how he elected to reside and set up his dental practice in Childress, Texas.

Doc`s Naval service in World War 11 was carried out in the San Francisco area, probably at Alameda or Treasure Island, I'm not certain. He was discharged from the Navy, I believe in 1945, at San Francisco and was traveling by train, on his way home to Azle, Texas, located a short distance North from Ft. Worth.

He was on the old Ft. Worth & Denver passenger train, that went through Childress every night about midnight. It had stopped in Childress for about 30 minutes, for water and coal, and on the spur of the moment, Doc decided to get off the train and walk around downtown Childress, just to unlimber his legs. Remember, the train depot was located very close to the South end of downtown Childress. After a brief walk, he re-boarded the train and proceeded on his way to Ft. Worth. However, during the last leg of his trip, he thought more and more about Childress and decided that would be the ideal place to live and practice dentistry. With that decision made, even though he had only seen Childress in the dark, he proceeded to move to Childress, bought a house, and set up his office on Ave. E, just East from the Courthouse, which incidentally, was next door to our office (General Adjustment Bureau). That's where I first met him and we remained very good friends until he passed away. He called me "Jim" when we were around others, but always referred to me as "Chum" when we were alone. He and his wife Gladys, visited us quite often after we moved to Lubbock, which was also occasioned by Johnny and Jackie living only a short distance away. My wife Lornadee and Gladys became very close friends, having shared the same birth date, Dec. 20, and remained so until my wife's demise April 22, 1996. They were just one of the many couples, who made our 9 year stay in Childress, most enjoyable.

Jim Spradley, Sr.

Bobcat Treasure....Amarillo Style

Today couldn't have been a more beautiful day! The weather was absolutely perfect--the kind that if you live in the Texas Panhandle you learn to treasure. After days of wind of the worst sort, it was calm with only a slight chill in the air. Truthfully, it was a day that normally would have sent Jim speeding to the golf course. But this was not to be a normal day. We had been invited to the home of our CHS classmate, Pat Davenport Shapiro, for brunch with Jennifer before she made the trek to Albuquerque on her way home to Las Vegas after visiting her Clarendon daughter and with Raenell in Childress. We had not really seen either Pat or Jennifer in more years than Jim or I can remember. As you all know we have recently established a great relationship with Jennifer on this blogspot, and it feels as if we have been seeing her quite often. However, we had totally lost contact with Pat, so it was a big surprise to learn through Jennifer that Pat lives in Amarillo and most surprisingly her home is located less than a mile from our house. Actually, her house shares an alley with my older brother. Once again the world feels much smaller!

I was a bit nervous before we arrived, thinking what if we didn't have any thing to talk about! However, from the moment we stepped in the door, I was totally at ease and conversation flowed freely for two hours. Of course, we had many things to talk about and if any of you had burning ears today, you know why!! We reminisced about the old days, caught up on lost classmates, and even explored possible locations for a 45th or 50th year reunion for the class of 1963. (viva Las Vegas) Most of all we relished the opportunity to spend time with Pat and Jennifer, to see them face to face. Pat had prepared a great meal for us and we loved getting to tour her wonderful home. Pat and her husband, Alan, have 3 grown children between the two of them. Pat shared pictures of her two handsome sons along with their wives and the three grandchildren which are a source of pride and joy to Pat. However, I have to say that I absolutely fell in love with the 2 little fur balls, Pixie and Scruffy, that allow Pat and Alan to live with them. Cute does not begin to describe them and they are extremely well behaved and love to have company. They were quite happy to pose for a picture with my Jim and Pat.

The visit came to an end when Jennifer could no longer delay her trip on to Albuquerque. We hated to see her go knowing that she had such a long drive ahead of her before she would finally get home to Las Vegas and Yahn who was unable to make the trip. We were really sorry that we didn't get to meet him, but hopefully we will have that pleasure another time.

Jim left to get to the golf course, not even complaining that he was late getting there. We both had a great time thanks to the hospitality of Pat, Pixie, and Scruffy, and Jennifer's quick wit and wonderful stories. Jennifer has already called to let us know that she arrived safely in Albuquerque so we

will look forward to seeing her back on the blog soon.


Today really was a treasure, and it is my pleasure to share it with each of you.

Bobcat Treasure: Gold ... King "Tut" and the "Lost Buddha" ....

Gold ... lustrous, valuable, gorgeous gold! The inspiration for numerous quests and fables, the dream of Coronado in his epic search for the mythic Seven Cities of Gold. The adornment and currency of choice for millions from prehistoric times to the Sumerians of lower Mesopotamia (modern Iraq), to the Egyptians and beyond to our own time, always highly prized and frequently hoarded, used for sustenance, for shelter, for good and for evil. In India, the Middle East and Southeast Asia, it is desirable not only for its decorative value, but as a hedge against inflation and hard times. Women in many of these countries wear multiple golden bangles, rings and necklaces, representing not only their dowry, but their ultimate financial security. As James Blakely said at the time of the California Gold Rush: "Gold is forever. It is beautiful, useful, and never wears out. Small wonder that gold has been prized over all else, in all ages, as a store of value that will survive the travails of life and the ravages of time."

Not only is gold the most desired of metals, it is also malleable, amenable to being combined with other elements to change its intrinsic makeup, and resistant to corrosion. It is soft and shiny and dense, but can be beaten into sheets so thin they are translucent, as it may have been on the putative Golden Calf which Moses allegedly found on his return to his people from Mt. Sinai. Indeed, gold is a marvelous symbol for the vicissitudes of long-lasting friendship, which must mutate, and adapt and grow, even as we must grow in our lives in order to have lives worth living. I cannot think of anything worse than a life of stasis, "in which all forces are equal and opposing, therefore they cancel out each other."

In 1987, on our first trip to Egypt, we rounded a corner in the old Cairo Museum and came literally face to face with the gold funerary mask of Tutankhamun, inlaid with lapis lazuli and colored glass, and the sight was absolutely breathtaking. I know Yahn and I stood there for several minutes, taking in the beauty of the mask ... probably with our mouths hanging open like the hicks from the sticks we immediately imagined ourselves, confronted with thousands of years of Egyptian civilization and artistry.

In Thailand, we marveled at the Golden Buddha at Wat Traimit, and at the story behind it. It was cast during the Sukkothai period (1440s to 1550s). However, during one of their intermittent wars with the Khmer of Burma (now Myanmar, and much in the news), the Thai people became afraid that the Buddha would be stolen by their enemies, and so encased it completely in concrete to hide it ... and then somehow, lost it. How anyone can just "lose" or forget about a five and half ton, solid gold Buddha strains the imagination, but perhaps it is related to what is termed "the fog of war". Nevertheless, it was several centuries before the Buddha was accidentally rediscovered, when it was dropped while being moved, and the concrete cracked open to reveal the gold inside, none the worse for its sequestration.

So it seems fitting to recall golden friends and friendships of our sometimes golden youth. Perhaps some of your friendships have survived the changes of time intact, and perhaps some are merely awaiting rediscovery. In any event, from the 1963 Senior Edition of The Corral, I give you gold ....

1963 Seniors Will Be Remembered By ...

Shirley Neel: Girl's Volleyball, dancing ability. Our Shirl lives in Quanah (we won't hold that against her!) with her husband, George, and could probably swap golf stories with Jim W. as she took to the game with a vengeance after she left Childress. Yahn and I were delighted to see her, and Raenell and Jimmy, and Linda Kay and JoAnn, in April at our granddaughter Heather's wedding.

Harold Simmons: Football player, black flattop. Harold is living in Dumas with his wife Donna. They have two sons, and three grandsons. We are told that Harold reads and enjoys the blog, but has not yet commented, not unlike others (we know who some of you are). We are hopeful that Harold will leave a comment to say "Hi" and to update all of us with additional information.

Linda Kay Bridges: Bobcat twirler. Friend from childhood and definitely BFF. Happily married to Wayne, retired, living in the Dallas area, one son and three gorgeous granddaughters she is seriously endeavoring to spoil (grandparents' prerogative). Off to Paris in March with moi, JoAnn and Raenell. We are likewise awaiting LK's first written foray into blogland ... we know you're there!!!!

Jimmy Wilcoxson: Golf team (duh!), All-State basketball player, State golf medalist. Married to blogmeister Nicki, former coach, living in Amarillo, recently inducted into the Panhandle Sports Hall of Fame. Hey, Jim: Maybe you and Shirl and Reed and Mike (or maybe Coach Joe Warren if one of them demurs) can get a foursome going. I see Sheila has extended an invitation to a course in Wimberley ....

Bettye Shahan: Best dressed, laugh. Last personally spotted at the All-School Reunion in Childress in 2002, lookin' great, and believed to be living in the Abilene area. I know we would all appreciate a more thorough update, Bettye ... or Clara ... or Nicki ....

J.R. Bell: Won second high individual in grass contest, tall. Living in Amarillo and recently sighted by Jim and Nicki. Nicki, we would appreciate your additional information on J.R., unless he can be persuaded to join us himself.

Kay Eatherly: Valedictorian and sophomore class President. Married to Gayle Whitten, believed to be living in Lubbock, teaching or retired from same. Just received from Kay and Gayle

I retired from teaching 4 years ago, and Gayle still has his painting business. He quit teaching after 12 years so he could own his own business and I could be home with our children. So for 20 years I did not teach but was mom to Melissa (nearly 38) and Mark (36). Melissa and her husband live in Lubbock, and they have 3 precious children: Lindsay (7), Aaron (5) and Colby (3months.) Mark lives in Houston and has Kamber (6) and Asher (4). When all the "grands" are together, they are like "fireants." What a blessing!

Gayle and I have an intense desire to serve our Lord Jesus in any way He leads. We have been on a couple of misson trips to the Czech Republic, and we may begin a ministry of "mom and dad" to missionaries. We are not sure right now. We have been blessed to travel a lot, and we love people, so we are waiting.

Wayne Havens: Football player, President of Student Council.
(photo from tsta.org) Superintendent of Lubbock Independent School District. We hope that Wayne is reading, and that he will see fit to publish a comment.

Linda Key: Engaged, speech club. Linda married her Walter, and they traveled many places while he was in the Army. Last known to be living in Childress again, and we'd love to hear her stories.

Quentin Henderson: Lone Star degree in FFA, Salutatorian. Also President of our Senior Class. Quentin is a Doctor of Veterinary Medicine (DVM) with his own veterinary clinic, living with his wife Cheri in Blountstown, Florida. Perhaps Quentin may soon join us on the blog? Update from Joe Don Hopkins on Quentin, via e-mail: Really enjoyed my talk [on Friday, October 26] with Dr. Henderson. He has been teaching in high school since 1988 and has had his Vet practice 31 years. He has 4 daughters with dates of birth ranging from 1971 to 1985, along with 5 or 6 grandkids. We talked over an hour. I need someone to confirm that he was at one of our first 2 reunions (1973 or 1978) since I do not remember him being there. Plus I have told many people that I have been trying to find him since 1963! Now, can someone confirm which reunion Quentin attended?

Nicki and I have some pretty extensive grapevines; nevertheless, there are many of our former classmates of whom we know nothing since we were in school together. We would definitely appreciate your contacting us (or either of us) if you have information to share, or if you are one of those "among the missing".

Now, off tomorrow on my delayed trip to Texas ... leaving the adult (Nicki) in charge, and looking forward to having brunch with Pat and Nicki and Jim on Wednesday. There may even be pictures ....

Learnin' Golf ... Countin' Strokes ... and Willie's Crystal Ball ....

L-R: Glada Webb, Altus Michie, Jo Harp, Gladys McConnell (Johnny's mother), Edna Smith, Jean Hassell, "Sis" McClendon (Max's mother), Louie Harp (Jennifer's grandmother) and Mildred Brown at the Country Club, August 1973.

This today from our friend Mike Spradley (see the picture of Mike and his granddaughter Taylor, added under "The Way We Are"):

Jenn…..your golf picture made me think of this story…….maybe you can post it for me……thx….sprad

Seeing the pictures of Jennifer’s grandmother playing golf…….I remember all those ladies so very very very well as I grew up. They were truly the Matriarchs of Childress during the 50’s. I used to caddie for Gladys McConnell before “Willie” Wilcoxson actually talked me into letting him teach me how to play. (sorry Nikki…..I have never known Willie as Jim)

It’s easy to say that our family and the McConnell family were great friends from the time we moved to Childress in 1951….but then again….everybody was friends with the McConnells. It was Gladys that talked my Mother into moving next door to them during my 2nd grade year so that I could have Mzzzz. Pryor for a teacher. (the lady who taught me to love to read)

But that is not the story……this is…..

Somehow……and I don’t know why……..adults at the country club during the 50’s bestowed upon Willie the responsibility of teaching others his age to play golf. Implicit within that responsibility, as I look back, was the expectation that Willie would also teach us the rules and rules of honor……as in, “not cheating…”and “counting all your strokes”
Now then….the best two “kid” golfers were, unquestionably,” Willie Wilcoxson and Johnny McConnell. I played golf all the time with Johnny……but, for some reason, it was only Willie who was tasked with instructing. Beats me as to why but that was just the way it was….
Soooooo…enough background……….

One day Willie and I are finishing 9 holes and we are approaching the 9th green at the club house. From the club house, out walks several of those ladies in the picture, including, of course, Gladys McConnell. They are heading towards the 1st Tee.
Immediately!!!!......Willie starts telling me the future!!!!!!!!!

.........he whispers out of the corner of his mouth, “Sprad…….Gladys will ask us how you shot today………and then she will ask if we counted all your strokes”……Willie continued with…….”when she asks you if we counted all your strokes……you say, “yes….we did.”
Of course…..if we had counted all my strokes for 9 holes…..the score would always have been…..like……Spradley 112…….Wilcoxson 38 ……..so Willie always gave me the benefit of the doubt so my score would be around 50 or 60…or so….for 9 holes…..lets just say I got a lot of playing in for my money….

But somehow……Gladys was aware…..that Willie was teaching me to play golf……and it was Willie’s responsibility to teach me to play by the rules…………
So guess what………just as we get onto the 9th green….Gladys hollers………not at me……..but at Willie……with, “Willie….how did Mike shoot today?”……….Willie responds with a teacher’s proud, “Great!!!!…….he shot a 48!”
So Gladys looks at me and asked,……”That’s really good Mike……..did you count all your strokes?”
I puffed out my chest and replied…….”I sure did……….except for those I lost in the water on 2…….and those that went onto the highway on 3………and those that went into the farmer’s field on 4…….and”……that’s when I felt Willie’s elbow in my ribs…….
(I think the resulting bruise on my ribs resulted in my never being able to hit Chicken Mitchell’s fast ball.)

Anyway……Gladys went merrily off to the 1st tee…with a knowing smirk on her face
And I ….have never gotten any better at that miserable game they call golf……..but I am not bad if I get to count my own strokes………….just like Willie taught me….!

Transitions: The Autumn of Our Lives

Like Jennifer, I find that fall is my favorite season of the year. Actually, it is more than my favorite season. It is the time of year that I find myself full of renewed energy--much more so than spring which is traditionally the season of new beginnings. It is not unusual for me to find myself searching for the signs of fall in the other seasons. It only takes a crisp cool day in the spring or summer for me to drag Jim outside and demand that he smell autumn in the air and like a child I want to ask,"are we there yet?" I love the changing of the leaves from green to orange or red or yellow and brown. I love the cooler days and I can't wait to drag out my sweaters and jeans as they are my favorite clothes. I even look forward to football so I can wrap myself in a blanket and read a good book while Jim sits and watches tv and answers my occasional questions about who has the ball and what is the score. As I have already said, I love decorating for fall and thinking about Halloween. All of these delights serve to remind me that for a while we have a respite from hot summer days and the hustle and bustle of Christmas yet to come followed by cold icy days and then blustery spring and turbulent weather. Like Jennifer, October is my birthday month which serves as a symbol of other transitions to me.

I have heard over the years that aging is transitioning symbolically from one season to another. Recently, I asked Jim (remember that in an earlier post, I identified Jim as my pondering partner) if we are there yet?--in the autumn of our lives. Of course, he pondered this question for a second or two and then asked, "would that be bad?" and that is truly a question to ponder. There are so many good things about this time in our lives. We have retired, so we have so much more time for doing what we really want to do. We no longer have those old work related stressors. We have grandchildren to enjoy and love. Seeing our children as adults and on their own is comforting. I feel much more relaxed and free when I allow myself to and I guess that is a key to being in the autumn of one's life--allowing one's self to appreciate the place and time in which we find ourselves and accepting that the autumn of our lives really isn't such a bad place at all.

As the Class of 1963, we have transitioned from high school to retirement with all the "seasons" in between. There is no way I can know how the coming of autumn is affecting each of you, but it is my sincere hope that as I have stated before that all your leaves fall gently around you, that you gather the harvest of your life and count your blessings and that you wrap yourself in happiness and the warmth of autumn fires.

Nicki

Don't Know Much About History ...? How About Halloween???

For the past couple of weeks, I have been engrossed in Ken Burns' masterful history of The War, specifically World War II, on PBS. I wasn't born until after that war, and I feel sure that anyone in our class who was born while it was being fought, is actually too young to have any personal memories of it. I truly believe The War should be seen by every one of us, and recommended to our children and grandchildren. Those who served in the war's far-flung theaters of operation, and those who "served" by their efforts at home, are now dying at the rate of about 1,000 per day, and I don't think I can possibly overstate the importance of preserving their memories of that time, much as Steven Spielberg is recording the stories of Holocaust survivors in his Shoah project.

I am a great believer in Santayana's (NOT Carlos Santana) dictum that those who do not remember history are doomed to repeat it. And yet, how can we "remember" if no one leads us to such memories? And how damaging and downright scary can "memory" be, if it is false? I have been appalled in recent years at the level of education of our high school ... not to say college, as well ... graduates. And my Appall-O-Meter went totally off the track when Burns pointed out in an interview that there are many of our young people today who actually think we fought WITH the Germans AGAINST the Russians in that war, among other egregious misconceptions. Actually, I was merely reminded to be appalled, because I remember very well when I was drilling someone for a World History test that Coach Joe Warren had promised us (waaaayback in sophomore year, only about 15 years or so after the war), and that person had NO CLUE as to the identities of Winston Churchill and Adolf Hitler, or what they did, or indeed what "we" as a nation had endured and accomplished in that struggle.

As our parents' generation leaves us, it is incumbent upon us to teach our own children, and grandchildren, the history (not only of our country, but of the world) that came before them ... before US, even. What a concept! However, it is equally incumbent for us to know what we're talking about when we assume the role of educators. If you didn't see The War, I urge you to do so ... and to keep history alive and REAL for those who follow us.


That said, fall is here!!! Glorious fall ... my favorite time of the year. I think my affinity for fall goes beyond my desire for cooler weather after the scorching summers of Texas and Las Vegas, probably back into long-dead (!) memories of Celtic rites and traditions, smoke from the bonfires blending with the Irish mists, the dying of the old year and the rebirth to come. Which immediately begs the question: Isn't it fascinating to learn how many different people in many different lands calculate and celebrate the New Year? Anyway, it is fascinating to me. I am sure some of my friends have been bemused over the years as I have sent them e-cards celebrating not only "our" New Year, but Chinese New Year, Rosh Hashanah (the Jewish New Year), Muharram, Songkran, and coming up soon, the putative Celtic New Year (Samhain anyone?), which many people think may be the origin of our own festive Halloween. And, I thought you might be interested in reading the truthy story of Halloween ... its truthiness as Stephen Colbert might say, and as Merriam-Webster defines.

The Truthy Story of Halloween
by Guinevere the Druid Goddess*

*or, yours truthily ....

Many people think the appellation "Halloween" is a colloquial contraction of "All Hallows Eve" and that Halloween is a quasi-religious holiday with deep, primordial roots in pagan ethos. Not so. Halloween was invented by, and named for, a displaced Irishman living in the Carpathian Mountains, curiously if ethnically yclept Hal O'Ween, who had been run out of Ireland (along with other assorted snakes) for sundry nefarious schemes. After wandering aimlessly through Eastern Europe with a loaf of bread, a jug of wine and a band of itinerant midgets he had befriended along the way, Hal reached the end of his purse and his provisions (not to mention his Reeboks) and decided it was time to settle down and find sustenance.

Unfortunately, neither Hal nor his band had a nodding acquaintance with the Carpathian (or any other variety) work ethic, so he turned again to a life of crime. Hal and his band first attempted highway robbery (in the original, rather than than the political, sense ... however, I digress), but this proved discouraging (and ultimately fatal) because the members of the band were so small that passing coachmen whipping their horses at breakneck speed simply ran over them.

Hal's next scheme involved sending one or two of his band to the huts of Carpathian villagers. When a villager answered the door, the band members would brandish their cudgels and growl menacingly, "Fight or Feed!" However, no self-respecting Carpathian villager is going to kowtow to such belligerence, particularly from the vertically-challenged, so the situation rapidly deteriorated to all "Fight" and no "Feed", which the villagers found to be great sport anyway. (In fact, though it cannot be proven, scholars speculate that in addition to Halloween, the great contemporary pub pastime of dwarf-tossing began during Hal's Carpathian sojourn.)

Facing defeat, frustration and imminent starvation. Hal and his band retired to their cave to contemplate their navels (both cosmically and culinarily speaking). Then, just when everything seemed darkest (I believe it was just before the dawn), Hal hit upon his great, immortal idea. Once again, Hal sent his band in groups of two into the village, but rather than waving their clubs and demanding "Fight or Feed", the band members were now dressed in cute costumes and lisped winsomely at the villagers, "Trick or Treat?" When the villagers asked what they meant, "the band answered "For Hal O'Ween!" And this time, the villagers deduced, as Hal intended (the average Carpathian villager not being known as a mental marvel), that this was some new game for children. Eager to play, the villagers now showered the band members with potatoes, black bread and the odd joint of mutton.

After a few nights of this, Hal and the band had made considerable inroads into Carpathian larders, whereupon the villagers cried "Enough!" (or the Carpathian equivalent thereof), and decreed that from that day forward, Halloween (Carpathian villagers are likewise not known for their spelling abilities) would be observed only once, at the end of the harvest season. As a sop to the "kids", the villagers decided to distribute candy, sweetmeats and other delicacies, rather than pedestrian foodstuffs, to all those cute "little ones" who came to "Trick or Treat for Halloween".

So that is the truthy story of Halloween. What? You ask what became of Hal and his band? Well, after his Carpathian cookie crumbled, Hal and his band immigrated to the United States, settled in New Orleans, formed a musical group in Le Vieux Carre, and went on to great renown. Surely you've heard of ... (rim shot, cymbal) ... "Hal-exander's Ragtime Band"????

I feel your pain ....

)O(

JOHN (JOHNNY) R. MCCONNELL

UPDATE: October 4, 2007 I spoke this morning with Jackie McConnell, John's widow, and have some additional information for all of you who have expressed sorrow at John's passing and sympathy and concern for his family. Jackie was wonderfully warm and gracious to speak with me at such a difficult time for her and the family, and I thank her so much for her time.

Jackie and I had a lovely conversation, given the circumstances, and she spoke so eloquently of John's battle with cancer, of how proud John was of their two sons, Jason and Kevin and their families, and how much he doted on his grandchildren Peyton and Willem.

For those who have inquired, John's mother, Gladys, known to many of us, is still alive and in a nursing home, but Jackie says that she must use a wheelchair and that her mental faculties are not what they once were.

I mentioned this blog to Jackie, and gave her the web address. She said that she will pass it along to their sons, who she believes will be interested to see what we have written about John. I told her that we would welcome any comment they (or she) might wish to make, if any, in memory of John.

John's obituary ran in today's Houston Chronicle, and I am including it here, along with a more recent picture than those which have been added by Nicki (no disrespect to Nicki, of course). Also, Jackie informed me that she has given the pertinent information to The Childress Index, which will also run an obit. The obit contains more information about John, some of which we already knew, like his love of golf, plus information about services.

John Robert McConnell, of Spring, Texas was born on the 31st of December 1944 in San Francisco, California, passed away on the 1st of October 2007. John is a former resident of Childress, Texas where he spent his earlier years in life. John was at his best while on the golf course where he was an avid golfer; John also enjoyed hunting and fishing, he was one that truly appreciated his family and friends. John was an employee with Reliance Steel and Aluminum for seven years and in the business for over 35 years. John is survived by his loving and caring wife of 40 years, Jackie, his sons Jason McConnell and wife Lisa, Kevin McConnell and wife Nicole, and two wonderful grandchildren, Peyton and Willem. John's family would like you to join them at his memorial service celebrating his life, Friday the 5th of October 2007 at Forest Park The Woodlands Chapel at one o'clock in the afternoon with Pastor Don Kidd officiating.

At the end of our conversation, I told Jackie that many of our classmates were thinking of John, and our shared history, and of her and the family, and that I was certain they would all be in our thoughts today, tomorrow and in days to come. I urge those of you who haven't left a comment or an anecdote to please do so, as I am sure it will be appreciated by John's family.

After my conversation with Jackie, I called Forest Park The Woodlands Funeral Home regarding whether they had a means for us to leave online condolences. I was advised that by tomorrow we will be able to access a memorial website at mem.com, enter John's name, and at the obit site there will be a link so that we may write a message for the family.

Jim left a "Comment" on the blog yesterday that he regretted not getting in touch with Johnny in later years, and I have had others express the same to me in e-mails. Perhaps we should all take this as a reminder not to put off getting in touch with old friends, or family, or anyone who means something to us, because one day it may be too late.

In sadness,
Jennifer

Posted October 2, 2007

Word came this evening via phone call from Pat Davenport Shapiro, who just heard through a friend of hers, that Johnny McConnell died last night in hospice care at his home in Spring, Texas (a suburb of Houston). As some of you will know, Johnny had battled cancer for the past several years. I last talked with him while Yahn and I were still living in Houston, probably about five or six years ago, and he was undergoing treatment at the time but, if I recall correctly, seemed to be in a bit of a remission. It was obvious the disease had taken a toll, but he was determined to do all he could to overcome it. Pat said that it's her understanding that he didn't actually die of the cancer, but that his liver finally gave out, possibly due to all his cancer treatments.

I know that many of us have many good memories of Johnny, inextricably intertwined with our memories of growing up in Childress. Johnny was actually the first boy outside my family who ever kissed me, chastely on the cheek, as a result of playing "Spin the Bottle" at a wiener roast for the gang held at his house when we were in fifth grade. And of course I remember him at the Country Club, not only playing golf with Jim and Reed, but at the Country Club dances and hay rides that they had for us young'uns.

I have Johnny's home address and telephone number if anyone wants to send a card or place a call to his widow, Jacki. Just let me know by e-mail (yahnjenn@cox.net) and I will provide the information. I am also checking the Houston Chronicle obit page (nothing today, but possibly tomorrow) to see if there is a notice there. At this juncture, I don't know anything about services, and neither did Pat. If I learn more, I will update this notice.

I am hopeful that some of you will choose to comment, or tell a story, about Johnny here on the blog.

So sorry to bring bad news, but I thought the class would want to know.

We Shopped Till We Dropped!

After six days away, Jim and I have returned to Amarillo. Jim and two of his golfing/basketball coach buddies enjoyed three days of golfing on some of the nice golf courses in the Dallas area while the three wives enjoyed three days of shopping. On Friday we visited the Canton Trade Days and had such a great time. I think we must have made about one third of the area so that definitely is a good excuse to go again and again. The big items were Christmas and Fall related so I couldn't resist some buys. I am in to snowmen and scarecrows. Luckily my daughter, Kim, was able to drive us there in her Suburban and we needed every inch of it to get all of our stuff home. On Saturday, we shopped Dallas which is always a treat and there is always something new to discover. My really good news is that I have now selected and purchased THREE Christmas gifts. I am on a roll !

On Sunday, we moved to Granbury to stay in a bed and breakfast that I must tell you about. If you are looking for a wonderful weekend or short get-away this is the place. Granbury is such a quaint place with great boutique shopping around the downtown square. There are many bed and breakfast places there, but this particular one is really special and it has been featured in numerous magazines. The Inn on Lake Granbury is everything a getaway should be--relaxing, romantic, and luxurious. The rooms are gorgeous and in the morning guests are treated to a true gourmet breakfast. The grounds and location lend themselves to total peace and quiet or shopping and dining. We loved it. The only bad thing about it is having to leave. It is great for anniversaries, birthdays, reunions, and weddings or just for fun.

One of the nice things about Jim's golfing is that Coach Joe Warren was able to join him for golf part of the time and for dinner one night. It is always nice to see him. It gives him and Jim time to catch up on the old Childress days as well as the new things going on in our lives. He has four grandchildren that keep him busy as do our two. Luckily both of his children and their families live in the Dallas area as does he. He does remember many of us from those days and always enjoys hearing about everyone. He is also in touch with Joe Don quite often as well as some others.

Now that I am connected again, I will be able to publish, post, and comment on anything that comes in. I am so excited that our friend Shelia Davis Martinez has commented on several of our posts. Be sure to check them out and hopefully respond to what Shelia has to say. Shelia, keep up the good work and show everyone how easy it is!

Jim and I will be leaving again on Thursay for a return trip to Flower Mound to keep our grandson, but we stay connected there, too. I have spent time getting ready for our trip. The grandson, who is seven, and I share a love of all things Halloween so we will be decorating his front yard for Halloween, making a trip to the pumpkin patch which is near by, decorating pumpkins, and making fall and Halloween cookies. He is very excited and can't wait until we get there. He has a love of all things grisly, ghostly, and ghastly. The main feature in his decorating scheme is a graveyard of skulls and bones. I lean toward the cute happy ghosts, witches, and pumpkins. That is the challenge, but he is quick to remind me that it is "his yard". I am happy to obey his wishes in that area and return to my house to be "cute".

It is such good news that our friend Lynn continues to improve. We trust that she will be letting us hear from her as time goes on. Hooray for you, Lynn! We continue to keep you in our thoughts and prayers.

It is good to be back in touch. May Blessings keep "Falling" around all of you!

Nicki

Is That A Kalashnikov ... or Are You Just REALLY Happy to See Me?

Subtitled: Strange Bobcat Encounters in the Land of Moses

My husband Yahn likes to tell me that planning is what you do while you're waiting to find out what's REALLY going to happen. On Saturday, the day after I posted "'Cat Tracks ..." and other esoterica and ruminations on road trips, it became necessary to postpone my trip to Childress for later in October. So, at this juncture, I am still "connected", for better or worse, depending on how you look at it. The upside of the postponement is that Raenell and I will get to jointly celebrate our birthdays while I am there!!!!

The other upside is that have been here to nag Mike Spradley into telling another of his great stories, and he has come through in grand Sprad fashion. So, without further ado, again in Bobcat Blue, I give you Mike Spradley.

Okee dokee.....the Sinai Desert story.......I told this story to my 1973 Lubbock Monterey High School Reunion and was voted the biggest liar at the reunion........begins....

During the '70s I spent many years conducting seismic surveys in the Red Sea. I worked for the Israelis while they were in charge, as well as the Egyptians when they were in charge. Sometimes I worked for both of them at the same time which almost got me "kilt off" a couple of times. I worked on the reefs on the West side as well as the East side.

This particular story was the first job beginning in January 1973. Our program was conducting seismic over these beautiful coral reefs from Sharm El Sheik north to Ras Gara. Sharm El Sheik had been a huge Egyptian fortress before the '67 war and was the last place captured by the Israelis in '67. So, in 1973, Israel had some pretty serious military forces all over that desert.......This was the only job I have ever had where I was issued my very own sub-machine gun (which was a early version of a Kalashnikov carbine that I used to shoot up my miserable Israeli box lunch everyday ... until they took my bullets away). My rifle was stamped 1956....which meant it was captured by the Israelis during that war when we were all in the 6th grade.......it had never been fired and only dropped once.....ahem ahem....I digress.....

Soooooooooooo....one day.....I am on my navigation boat laying out instruments. "Bing bing bing".....my computer room calls me on the radio to tell me it's all screwed up and I must return to fix it. The route back by boat.....through all the reefs....was quite tricky.....and according to the map on the navigation boat......i was only 3 kilometers from the boat to the computer room......."across the desert!!"......by myself!!!!.....but not to worry....not to worry ... so I had the boat get me as close to the beach as possible.....water over a coral reef can be quite deceiving.........I thought it was knee deep.......so I stepped off the boat.....ta ta!! into about 7 feet of water...... Spoolooosh!!!!....so....now I am drenched......in the desert......in January....and it is colder than the witch's mammary gland in a tin can....but???

Not to worry.....off I go...the boy from Childress.....following a similar path as other former greats.....(like Moses, actually)......but and however.....my idiot navigator measured the distance incorrectly......instead of 3 kilometers....it was more like 7 kms. Wind was blowing like Hades over my wet clothes....I was freezing like the dickens....so I reached the conclusion that I would be warmer if I took all my clothes off......which I did....forthwith....I then had on my tennis shoes and my US Navy hat....and all the secrets that only my Mommy knew......it was much better. Everything shrunk up in the cold so I even had less skin exposed. heh heh.......

After about an hour of traipsing across the desert......I see....waaaaaaay way way off.......an Israeli military halftrack moving perpendicular to my path. It was a troop carrier.....with a bunch of troops in the back.....Whan' sho nuff......they seen' me....and taken' off in my direction..... So anyway, someone in the halftrack saw this figure crossing the desert and decided to pop on over to check me out......as they got closer and closer I could see all these troops in the back.......and then....they wuz upon me!!!....and they started circling around me in that track. They were all wearing helmets and goggles....just like in that Patton movie......after about the 2rd circle around me......about 5 or 6 of them took off their helmets........and guess what....you got it......

T'was the Israeli womens' army riding around in the desert......looking for anything extraordinary......and apparently,...nothing I had must have reached their standard of extraordinary.....because on the 3rd pass.....they took off to their original position....just a'waving and a'whistlin" and a'holler'n........did not offer to stop.....or offer a lift.....or exchange phone numbers......

it was the biggest ego popper since Danna Lewellen insulted me in the 5th grade in front of the Palace Theater..... so thas it........I have been back to Sharm many times......there is a natural rock in the desert that looks exactly like the John Kennedy profile on a half dollar....amazing.......I gotta git tho....Sprad

As a footnote to Mike's story, Sharm el-Sheik is indeed a gorgeous place ... wonderful diving ... and Egypt and the Middle East are a looooong way from Childress, and not just in miles. When Yahn and I were in Egypt in 1987, we had taken an overnight trip to Alexandria. On the way back to Cairo, we passed a brand new city rising in the desert, named "6th October City." Immediately recognizing that "6th October" referred to the Yom Kippur War of 1973, which Israel won big-time (after a really scary few days), I asked our guide, Aki, just WHY the Egyptians would want to name a city after THAT war. Aki didn't blink and said, "We won that war." When I called him on it, he admitted that HE knew Egypt hadn't won ... he had traveled outside the country and was educated ... but the Egyptian press and other news sources had convinced MOST Egyptians that they HAD won by carefully culling and editing news and information about the war and presenting a prettier picture to the populace ... all the time, of course, claiming to be fair and balanced ... but I digress ....

We had a day and night in Alexandria, and after seeing most of the sights ... and sites ... we managed to inadvertently crash an Egyptian wedding that night at the hotel. We were welcomed like family and urged to stay and celebrate with them, and had a wonderful time. Later, we ran into Aki in the lobby. Knowing that Muslims are adjured not to drink alcohol, we told Aki we were planning to stop for a drink before bed, and we'd love for him to join us, even though we knew his religion forbade drinking. Aki told us that he would NEVER, EVER drink in front of his family ... but that he had heard of something in our country called "Sunday Baptists" ... and he supposed he was a Sunday Muslim. Fabulous evening, fabulous trip ... and our first of two to the Land of the Pharaohs ....

Come back soon, Mike. We're still awaiting the cheerleader story ....