Bobcat Treasure: Emeralds ... Spring ... and Green Fire ....

The Gachala Emerald, 858 carats, found at La Vega de San Juan mine in Colombia, housed at the National Museum of Natural History of the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C.

Cool green fire caught in stone ... a symbol of Spring, denoting rebirth and renewal, running the palette of greens, from light new growth to dark primordial forests.... Emeralds of a deep, ethereal green tinged with an intense blue may be more valuable than diamonds of equal size and are considered the most rare of the five "precious" stones (including pearls, which are not true "stones"). Emeralds are the birthstones of those born in May, and also the representative gemstones for the birth signs Taurus, Cancer and sometimes Gemini.

The translucent green gems are uniquely found in the rock in which they are formed, and never occur in scattered gemstone gravels, as do diamonds, rubies and sapphires. Emeralds signify abundance and riches, are said to ensure domestic bliss, and instill sensitivity, loyalty and harmony within oneself and in others in close proximity to the wearer. Emeralds are thought to eliminate negativity in one's life, and also are believed to foster strength, creativity, spiritual insight, focus and intensity to help fulfill one's destiny and complete a life's journey.

Emeralds have ever been considered sacred to the Great Goddess, the Earth Mother, the giver of fertility and bounty, called by many names throughout history from Paleolithic times (some 2.5 million years ago) to the present day, and including the Celtic Goddess Danu, the "mother" of the Tuatha De Danaan in the Emerald Isle. (See Guinevere the Druid Goddess: St. Patrick's Day ... the Shee ... and 'Kiss Me, I'm Druid' ... posted March 8, 2008.) The stones have long been associated with the Goddess Diana, patroness of the hunt and guardian of women and young girls. In 1531, at the time of the Spanish conquest of the Inca Empire, the Emerald Goddess Umina, embodied in a huge emerald crystal, was removed from her dominion over the Manta Valley in Peru by the conquistadores and carried back to Spain along with hundreds of her "daughters" (smaller but nevertheless sizable emeralds which had been arranged around Umina in her temple).

The lustrous stones were considered the personification of the Goddess Aphrodite (Venus to the Romans) and her consort Hermes, who created for Aphrodite the Emerald Tablet on which the words of creation were said to have been written. One biblical scribe envisioned the throne of God as being surrounded by a rainbow which looked like refractions of light from an emerald. In some Jewish lore, the emerald was one of the four sacred stones given to Solomon, although there is some dissension in Rabbinical thought as to whether the stone referenced was actually an emerald or another form of green beryl. One Medieval legend insisted that the mythic Holy Grail was actually carved from a single huge emerald dislodged from Satan's crown during his descent from Heaven to the underworld.

The earliest known emeralds were found in Egypt, near the Red Sea, although it is acknowledged today that the finest stones come from Colombia, South America. Good quality emeralds may also be found in other countries, such as Brazil, Zambia, Madagascar, Pakistan, India, Afghanistan and Russia. Some emeralds have been found in South Carolina, and in 1998 they were discovered in Yukon, Canada.

Emeralds have mystic significance to many religions, including Christianity, and the stone has often been believed and employed to focus the mind on spiritual matters. Indian mystics have long thought that the gift of an emerald to a deity would guarantee knowledge of the soul and eternal life.

Like some diamonds, certain emeralds have been held to be malevolent in nature. A emerald ring set with diamonds owned by King Phillip II of Spain at the time of the Spanish Armada's defeat by England was deemed to be so dangerous that it was buried by Church authorities in a fortified iron coffin which has never been found. In Russia, a particular emerald given to the Empress Elizabeth was passed down through Romanov family, with dire results for many of those who wore it, including Czar Nicholas II, who was massacred with all his family at Ekaterinburg in August 1918. That emerald has also disappeared and is thought to have been secreted away by spiritual leaders of the Russian Orthodox Church.

Similar to rubies, an old folk belief holds that an emerald will change color in the presence of treachery and deceit. For many years, lovers exchanged emeralds, believing that the stones would lose their color or actually fracture in case of infidelity. Dreaming of an emerald signifies good luck and wealth, and great happiness to come. It is said that emeralds open the portal to new beginnings, new life. In some societies, emeralds have been prized as healing stones, and are said to strengthen the eye, heart, immune and nervous systems. Throughout history, they have been rumored to protect from the evil eye, enchantment, poisonous snakes and demonic possession.

Unlike rubies, which may represent unbridled passion and ambition, it is believed that emeralds are preferred by those whose fires burn deeper, cooler and therefore longer, tended scrupulously and guarded from view by outsiders and others, except those who are favored by the owner and permitted a closer glimpse of the intensity and splendor inside.

Emeralds have been highly regarded by rulers and are displayed among all the Crown Jewels of countries throughout the world. Yahn and I looked in awe at the myriad gorgeous emeralds displayed at the Topkapi Museum in Istanbul, including but not limited to a six-sided emerald pendant which belonged to Sultan Ahmet I and an exquisite 17th Century dagger with an emerald hilt, worked with gold and diamonds. (The 1964 caper film Topkapi, starring Melina Mercouri and Maximilian Schell, spun the tale of an effort by international jewel thieves to steal the dagger.) The French Crown Jewels contain among other marvels an emerald necklace given by Napoleon to the Empress Marie Louise. Among the legendary "Easter Eggs" designed by Carl Faberge for the Russian Royal Family was the 1896 Rock Crystal Egg, topped by a 26-carat Siberian cabochon emerald. Since emeralds are softer stones than diamonds, rubies or sapphires, care must taken in displaying and wearing them so that they are not subject to rubbing against harder stones which may damage or diminish their value.

Like rubies, all natural emeralds have imperfections, or inclusions, which affect their quality and brilliance. Thus emeralds may also be likened to imperfect human beings, dependent for their ultimate worth on the number of cracks and flaws contained within their cores, and the ability of each of us to cut, polish and enhance our souls in such a way as to bring out the best of our inner fire and essential being. A raw emerald skillfully shaped by the hands of a master crafstman, and carefully tended and conserved by its owner, increases exponentially in value over time. And so, I give you emeralds....

Unfinished emeralds



Sandra Dement: Student council secretary and music scholarship winner. Sandra is married to Tony DeVeau and lives in Dallas. We had hoped to see her at the recent April 9 dinner with Phil and Winnie, Yahn and I, Nicki and Jim, Linda Kay and Wayne and Coach Joe Warren, but she was unable to attend. We missed her and look forward to seeing her in Las Vegas in October. For more information on Sandi, see her "Show and Tell" update posted March 4, 2008.

Max McClendon: Golf team, Speech Club member. Max is currently the pastor of the Church of Christ in Shamrock, Texas, after having served at churches in Mobile, Louisiana and Seattle. He and his wife have two grown sons.

Beth McKee: Johnny's football jacket, short. Beth lives in Lubbock, Texas.

Doug Greer: Wittiest, for his broken bones. Doug is retired and lives in Graham, Texas. Last seen by me at the time of Paula's funeral (where he was a pallbearer) in May 2002. The night before the funeral, Doug, Ronnie Kindle and Joe Don came by Lynn's house and visited with us for a while, sharing memories from high school and of Paula.

June Smith: Voice, first period librarian. June is living in Childress with her husband, Raymond Rhodes, and they are both retired.

Jack Privitt: Band, tall. Jack is currently living in Little Rock, Arkansas. He works with computers, networks and other computer-related matters.

Rebecca Cheatham: Choir member and office assistant. Rebecca is married to Doug Self, living in Glenwood Springs, Colorado. Doug is pastor of the Church at Carbondale and they have three grown children. We believe Rebecca may be a realtor.

Charles Crouch: Mechanical ____. (The rest of the line was apparently cut off at the time of printing.) Charles and his wife, the former Arvazene Whitten, have three children and live in Childress, where Charles works as a guard the prison.

Joy Hackler: Senior class secretary, voice. Joy Hackler Cunningham lives in Midland, Texas.

Bruce Patterson: John Phillip Sousa Award, long hair. We believe Bruce is retired from the railroad and living in Amarillo.

Pam Hughes: Office assistant, almond eyes. We understand that Pam lives in Fort Worth, but have no further information.

Don Seal: Jokes, Carrolle. Don lives in the Dallas area and owns a wig shop, catering primarily to those who have lost their hair because of chemotherapy, alopecia, or other medical reasons. He also carries prostheses for those who have undergone mastectomy. Don told me when we talked in November that he and his wife, who live in Highland Village, were then expecting another grandchild.

Carol Mahan: Gold Star Girl in 4-H, DE. Carol lives outside Childress with her husband, and Raenell believes she works as a private duty nurse. I last saw Carol and spoke with her briefly at the All-School Reunion in Childress in 2002.

Ronnie Lawrence: National Honor Society President, basketball. Ron retired from the energy industry and now teaches high school and lives with his wife Deborah in Centennial, Colorado, a suburb of Denver.

Jimmy Lassen: DE student, 1962 Corral staff. I talked with Jim, who lives in Longview, in November. Jim indicated to me then that he would check out the blog and possibly leave an update for us, though I haven't heard from him since. The last time I saw Jim was in the early '70s, at a little hole-in-the-wall pub in Dallas, The Quiet Man, where the clientele ranged from SMU professors to darts and rugby players to "hippies" (not necessarily mutually exclusive categories). Yahn and I were on the outdoor patio when Jim exited the interior. I saw his eyes and knew immediately who it was....

Cut emeralds

We are hopeful those profiled here (and others who may have more information) will add to these brief updates in comments to this post, or will forward us more comprehensive information for publication in the "Show and Tell" linked blog. Those of you who may have only recently begun reading the blog are directed to earlier "Bobcat Treasure" posts (i.e., Pearls ... of Wisdom [from Darryl Morris] ... and Giants and Windmills, published September 15, 2007; Diamonds ... BFFs ... and Who Was that Elvis Impersonator?, published September 21, 2007; Gold ... King Tut ... and the Lost Buddha..., published October 20, 2007; Jade ... Candles ... and Auld Lang Syne..., published December 31, 2007; and Rubies ... Mystic Powers ... and Valentines..., published February 4, 2008.)

We wish all of you a renewal of life and spirit in this lovely (if somewhat stormy) Spring, which we hope will meld seamlessly into a not-too-hot Summer of luminous green fire and growth and light ....

)O(

The Thrill of the Hunt: Confessions of a Collector

Hi, my name is Nicki and I am a collector. I first became addicted to collecting several years ago when it became necessary to clean out the homes of various relatives in Childress and Shallowater. These homes were filled with items that had been stored away for many long years There were no expectations that sacks of money or even long hidden treasure and valuables, would be uncovered. Even though it was a sad task for us, it wasn’t long before I began to experience feelings of pleasure that accompanied the discovery of the more mundane kind of items such as opening a box to find very old delicate tiny buttons, or looking in the kitchen cabinets to find old kitchen utensils that I hadn’t seen since childhood in my mother’s house, or old tins and boxes of spices held for years after expiration dates, but still displayed in the old fashioned tins of yesteryear, or old tin type photos of people long forgotten, or old cameras, tools, or even clothing. At this time I was introduced to the intoxication that comes from “the find” and I wanted MORE. Soon I was experiencing uncontrolled urges to look in every nook and cranny and every drawer to see what could be found to satisfy my desire for another rush. I was swept up watching shows on television about antique appraisal, visiting every antique shop to compare what we had found with those in the shops, visiting bookstores to find resources to help in identifying the items that had by now become “stuff” to treasure, not for monetary value but for the joy of having them, displaying them, and showing them off. My attic and house were soon cluttered with old fountain pens, eye glasses, cut glass, quilts, vases, old boxes, sets of china and dishes, old letters, WWII memorabilia. I was truly addicted, and even more so because these items had once belonged to the “family.” But soon this wasn’t enough; I needed something stronger, more challenging, and sadly more costly. The “beast” inside me was raging. (Apologies to my dear, but shocked readers)

It wasn’t long before I was found lurking in the darkest corner of the Internet. (no, silly reader, not porn! I was addicted, not perverted.) The dark corner for my addiction was Ebay. I had found my never ending supply of “old stuff” and the more primitive the better. I sought out wooden blocks of every shape and size, decorated with Disney characters, carved with letters of the alphabet, and old wooden egg crates. When that wasn’t enough, I moved to acquiring missing pieces for the old sets of dishes that we now had, and then I needed more McCoy pottery, always looking for the next item.

Along the way, in an antique store, I discovered brightly colored pieces of enamelware. Perhaps you, dear reader, have seen them—bright red, green, blue, or yellow tea pots, pitchers, coffee makers, plates, and other kitchenware. These soon began to regularly arrive on my front porch, from California, Texas, New Jersey, and even Europe. Sellers from every port proudly displayed their wares for sale to any buyer. It was too much for me to resist.

To my delight Jim was soon adding to my hunts. He was showing signs of sharing my addiction with his desire to acquire by year, golf clubs like every set that he had ever played with and then he had me searching for old, old books about basketball that were referenced in current books.

As a buyer I soon perfected my talent and technique for becoming the winning bidder in each auction. I snatched items from the hands of other bidders, swooping in at the last second with the winning bid. Such fun, such a rush, such a mess!

It soon became apparent to my family that Mom was out of control. With visions of someday having to pack away and get rid all my acquisitions they staged an intervention where I received an “order” to please not bring any more “old stuff” into the house or attic. It was at this point that I began to seek help for my addiction. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a twelve step program for my particular addiction, so I made up my own program. This included:

Step One: I admitted I was powerless over Ebay. My house and attic had become unmanageable.

Step Two: I came to believe that a power greater than myself could restore me to sanity--My bank account and the realization that I couldn’t buy a bigger house.

Step Three: I made a decision to bring order to my house and my life.

Step Four: I made a searching and fearless inventory of all my “finds” and old stuff— sorting the junk from the good stuff--most of it had to go. (Yes, worried readers, I kept Jim and the cats.)

Step Five: Admitted to myself that I didn’t need more things and that I was depriving other bidders and buyers the pleasure of acquiring what they wanted.

Step Six: I was entirely ready to have my defects of character that contributed to this addiction removed. ( Animal-like characteristics such as squirreling away things just for fun or for another day and snarling at those who tried to outbid me.)

Step Seven: Humbly, I removed myself from Ebay and all of its tempting delights.

Step Eight: I began the process of unloading. (garage sales and giving away)

And finally: I admitted that I was bored with the whole thing and tired of my house becoming filled with old stuff and looking like… well ……(No, dear sensitive readers, I won’t say a naughty word.)


Today, I live junk free (well almost). I still occasionally visit the antique store, but rarely buy anything. I rarely visit Ebay and they have forgotten who I am even though sometimes I consider becoming a seller. I have replaced many of the old things in my house with new stuff. Additionally, my desire to acquire more has been replaced with a strong need to organize every drawer, closet, and cabinet thanks to Clean Sweep on TLC and Mission Organization on HGTV.

I admit that I still have the need for the thrill of the hunt and collecting. But for today I am satisfied by seeking out people who are fortunate enough to have been members of the CHS Class of 1963 (No, frightened readers, I am not a stalker!), helping to organize 45th year reunions in Las Vegas and occasionally mini-reunions of friends meeting for dinner!

I hope you will join me in the thrill of the “hunt”.

For a more serious look at this subject go to my previous post on Friday, August 31, 2007
Grandma's Attic

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night ...

... the beginning of the egregiously turgid first line of the 1830 novel Paul Clifford, by Edward Bulwer-Lytton, borrowed and lampooned in myriad diverse works from Ray Bradbury (Let's All Kill Constance!) and Charles M. Schulz (Peanuts) to Star Trek: The Next Generation (The Royale). Considered an exemplar of purple prose and over-the-top writing, Bulwer-Lytton and his literary "style" have been perpetuated in recent years by the English Department of San Jose State University in California, in its annual Bulwer-Lytton contest to select the "best" imitation of his florid oeuvre from hundreds of submissions. Nevertheless, with an appropriate caveat to the reader, having been known myself to inhabit wordy environs ranging from pale Lavendar to glaring Psychedlic Purple (yes, there is such a color) ....

It was really a dark and stormy night when old classmates and one former teacher from Childress High School came together for dinner and conversation at Pappadeaux's in Dallas on 9 April. In addition to Yahn and my own happy self, there were Nicki and Jim, Linda Kay and Wayne, Phil and Winnie, and Coach Joe Warren, who lo these many years after CHS gave me permission to call him Joe. (Yes, some people for whom some old habits die hard do still ask, as quaint as that may seem.)

Jim and Joe deep in conversation

The weather was indeed threatening ... thunder, rain, lightning and tornado watches (and warnings!) all around. Yahn and I (who arrived first) were hoping that the storms didn't keep others from attending ... my "glass half full" nature assured me that even if we were blown to Oz and beyond, we would at least die well-fed and stimulated by camaraderie ... and we were not disappointed.

Of course there was no problem recognizing Nicki and Jim, or LK and Wayne, all of whom I've had the great pleasure of seeing recently. Although I had not glimpsed Phil since high school, except in a couple of photos (see the "Biker Bish" ... a new title ... picture on the sidestrip of the main blog), nor Joe, they joined the group in a flurry of hugs and exclamations of how long it had been since waaaay back when. Phil's wife Winnie did not escape our enthusiasm, and I can only hope we didn't alarm her too much. At least she didn't bolt before dinner was served.... (grin)

Phil and Winnie

Once seated around the table, we fell easily into serious and lively conversation, as we parted the veil of years. The only drawback was that the size of the table and the noise level at Pappadeaux's sometimes made it difficult to hear or pursue conversation with those seated opposite us. Still, it was a wonderful evening (illustrated by Nicki's pictures posted here along with her comments) and it is a delightful memory to stoke us as we prepare for the October Reunion in Las Vegas.

We were all pleased that Joe chose to join us. I remember his World History class so well from sophomore year at CHS, particularly some of the "spirited" class discussions (previously described on the blog). He looked great (but then he always did), tanned and fit (a golfer, along with Jim) and he either remembered all of us and seemed genuinely glad to see us, or we can add "thespian" to his resume. (There's an old joke in there, but I'll forgo it ... this time....) We are honored that he will attend the LV Reunion, and I look forward to seeing him again there, and whenever possible.

Although I was not "friends" with Phil or with Nicki and Jim during high school, to me one of the blessings of the blog (the "miracle" if you will) is that it has allowed me to know and appreciate them these 45-ish years later ... and to acknowledge the wonderful people they are today. I honestly don't have enough words (me?) to adequately express how truly thrilled I am to have had the opportunity to "reconnect" with them and with others of our class. Obviously there are some I didn't know well then, with whom I still have absolutely no basis for conversation except that which relates to our shared high school experience ... but I count myself most fortunate to have made new and treasured friends over the past few years as so many of us have become computer, Internet and e-mail literate.

Dear friend Nicki (a great treasure herself) did such a good thing when she started this blog and gave us all the opportunity to "speak" to each other in this forum across the decades, and I am delighted to have been able to work with her to discover and rekindle friendships where none previously existed, or had become dormant. Jim has become such a kind, thoughtful, well-read and conversant man ... and I look forward to each opportunity to get together with them. (Indeed, Yahn opined after the dinner that he regretted not having more of a chance to talk with Jim and Nicki, though we look forward to remedying that deficiency in the future.) LK (so deserving of the appellation "BFF") has never been long out of my life since our early years in grade school at the old Childress Junior High School, but the last few years have seen our friendship grow immeasurably, while Yahn and Wayne have come to know and like each other as well. Phil is a true recent "find"... witty, compassionate, erudite, well-traveled and consciousness-expanded ... and we so anticipate spending more personal time with him and Winnie whenever it is feasible ... although in the interim, e-mail will help fill the gap. And it was serendipity to interact with Joe outside the classroom and the teacher/student strictures which necessarily prevailed so long ago. Indeed, I am blessed by these gifts....

Linda Kay and Wayne Cook

To those of you who read the blog, but never (or rarely) comment, I can only say that you are missing a golden chance to reacquaint with fellow members of the CHS Class of 1963, to let them get to know the "who" you are now, and I urge you to do yourself and us the favor of "coming out" and joining us, on the blog or in Las Vegas, or wherever the opportunity may present itself. My experiences in these endeavors have been positive, as well as life-enhancing and -affirming, even when no new "friendship" has been struck ... and I do believe you will find pleasant surprises as well. To borrow a mangled line from Darryl Morris (which he used to deliver so well in good-ol'-boy-ese back in his Journalism, English and Speech classes): "Them that don't asks (or do), don't gets." And though it may be trite, it is true (I've often thought that if something weren't true, it wouldn't become trite) that one cannot have too many friends....

A big amen to that....

)O(

I say Amen to everything that Jennifer said above. Jim and I also had a great time--beyond our wildest expectaions for the evening. We had never met Jennifer's husband Yahn (in the orange shirt), but we knew him instantly when we entered the restaurant and felt very comfortable and at ease with him. We found him most gracious and look forward to getting some quality time really getting to know him in the future.

At the end of the evening, I felt that we had just scratched the surface of really getting reaquainted with everyone. I had the best time visiting with Linda Kay and her husband, Wayne. Because they live in Grapvine which isn't too far from Flower Mound where our family lives, we plan to get together for lunch or dinner in the near future. Needless to say, we "mentioned" grandchildren and old times.

Phil and his wife, Winnie, are a great couple. Phil made us laugh many times as he is a man not only of wisdom, but great jokes and stories. Winnie is such a good sport to join in with us. We had just begun to get to know her a bit before time to leave. We were all amazed to learn about their 3 daughters and 1 son who have blessed them with 15 grandchildren with 2 more on the way!! Next time we meet in Las Vegas, I hope they will bring family photos. We really are looking forward to having Phil share more with us about his travels and work. They tell us that a trip to Peru is in the works for them.

We see Coach Joe a few times a year and it is always wonderful to touch base with him. Jim and I are glad he is joining us in the reunion.

We all give a big thank you to Jennifer who through her planning and restaurant selection gave us a really special evening. We look forward to many more in the dinners in Texas with all of our old friends.

Nicki

Posted by Jennifer Johnston Smith at 11:02 AM

6 comments:

Philip Tutor said...
Hey Jenn, thank you for putting the dinner together. It was great! Looking forward to Vegas. Maybe less noise for us old folk.Blessings on you!The Bish
April 11, 2008 11:45 PM

Yahn Smith said...

I also enjoyed meeting everyone. I don't know if it is a function of maturity, or a testament to what fine people we all are, or just another of those pesky senior moments, but it was such a pleasure to be around a group of people and none of them seemed to have any axes to grind, none of the old "Oh, I can top that one..." just fellowship and seemingly genuine interest in the other people's thoughts and ideas. Good food, good poeple and enough time... paradise. I really am looking forward to spending more time with everyone and having better conversations when the Cajun background noise of Pappadeauxs will be beaten down to a gentle roar. I know it's authentic Cajun Crawfish House atmosphere but it is hard to carry on conversations. Ah, but Las Vegas is SOOOOO quite and refined. Now that'll be a trip. Well, as Claude Raines once said to Bogie, "I think we have the beginnings of a beautiful friendship here."

April 12, 2008 1:13 AM

clara robinson meek said...
Thanks for sharing the mini reunion! Obviously everyone had a great time.I loved seeing the photos.
April 12, 2008 1:43 PM

Sheila Davis Martinez said..

.
One of the things I love most about Dallas is her beautiful spring storms! How are the tulips? As warm as it is now, I will bet they have given way to something almost as beautiful and colorful. It is almost time for the lilacs to bloom! OH, how I miss the lilac bushes.Sorry to have gotten so off track. I will blame Jennifer and her lovely description of the storm.If the LV reunion is anything like you have described of your dinner, we will all have the time of our lives!Thanks for sharing the pictures. Everyone looks amazingly the same, yet ...wiser!Glad you all had a wonderful time.
April 13, 2008 12:20 AM

Driscilla Dehtan Storrs said...

It sounds great. Thanks for sharing the evening and the pictures with us. I remember Phil's wife Winnie from Wayland. It's nice to see her again, too. You actually got to call Mr. Warren by his first name? Does that mean we're supposed to be all grown up now?

April 16, 2008 7:19 PM

Jennifer Johnston Smith said...

Driscilla, I think the operative words are "supposed to be all grown up." But don't say it too loud ... you'll frighten the children.... Wish you could have joined us at the dinner. Perhaps we can get something going in West Texas soon. Nicki and I have been talking about it, and I would love to see you again.Thanks for reading ... and for commenting....)O(

April 16, 2008 11:53 PM

The Times of Our Lives: 1968 ... the Times ... and We ... Were a-Changin' ....

1968 ... five years from our Senior year and our graduation from CHS. A significant year for our country and our generation ... although I'm sure very few if any of us expected it to be so startlingly significant when we joyfully kissed and celebrated as the calendar turned relentlessly from December 31, 1967 to January 1....

Some of us were in college ... some had graduated and started careers ... some had gone straight to work from high school ... some were married and raising families by then ... some had been divorced ... and some were serving our country in the military, as a volunteer or a draftee. Some of us were still trying to decide what we wanted to be when we "grew up".... A dark cloud called "Vietnam" ... seemingly small and far away on the horizon when we walked the stage for the last time at CHS ... was looming larger in our minds and lives, and for our country as a whole.

By 1968, there were more than 500,000 U.S. soldiers serving in Vietnam. We had already lost our first former classmate to premature death ... Clifton Stewart, dead on November 21, 1966 ... though many of us were likely unaware of this particular grim milestone when it passed. And ... having legally "come of age" (21 then) ... we were about to cast our first votes to determine who would be President of the United States ... a significant ritual solemnizing our entry and participation in the "adult" world.

The music we had grown up and graduated with had morphed into the "British Invasion" and the glory years of Motown, psychedelic and "pop" rock, folk music and songs of protest ... of the undeclared but still real and deadly war in Vietnam, of inequality between races and classes of people, of anger and rebellion against the "society" which had nurtured and perhaps conversely stunted us during our "formative" years. As Bob Dylan sang in 1964:

Come gather 'round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You'll be drenched to the bone ...
Then you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone ....

The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past ...

For the times they are a-changin'.

We could not help but realize that the times were changing, and that we were changing as well ... had indeed changed from the adolescents we had been in May 1963 ... when our ideas and beliefs had been as much the progeny of our parents as we were. Perhaps even by 1968 some of us had not fallen far from the parental and communal tree of life we had known in Childress ... but as must happen to everyone when they leave the shelter of the nest, we were finding that sometimes the "verities" we had once taken for granted no longer fit the world in which we lived and the lives we were constructing. Benjamin Franklin posited: In this world nothing is certain but death and taxes. But with all his wisdom, Franklin missed acknowledging the imperative for change which is likewise certain and inexorable, just like death and the turn of the calendar. Taxes at least are "negotiable" ... or malleable, in the hands of a creative accountant....

In November of our graduation year, our world and our psyches had been rocked by the assassination of President John F. Kennedy ... an unthinkable, unspeakable act for which we, and the country, were totally unprepared ... which even today remains writ large in our memories, the seminal event for the cataclysmic changes which would mark the rest of the decade. (See my post The Times of Our Lives: November 22, 1963 ... the day of the bells ..., published January 11, 2008.) The swearing-in of President Lyndon B. Johnson aboard Air Force One ... impossible for me to remember and visualize without also seeing the image of Jacqueline Kennedy standing there in her ruined pink suit (surely a metaphor for our now bloodied generation), grief-stricken and stunned from the horrors she had witnessed and experienced a few hours earlier ... also inaugurated times of change and a revision of the old social orders. The time when segregation would be tolerated de facto if no longer de jure, as it was when we were at CHS, was passing into history. Those who had been disenfranchised and denied because of race or poverty were being given their voting rights at last, despite rabid resistance which remained in some parts of the country. In 1968, in some states, people of different races were still not permitted to marry, despite the 1967 Supreme Court ruling striking down such racist laws.

As a society, of which we were now voter registration card-carrying members, many of us were finding we could no longer ignore and tolerate the manifest injustices that had been perpetrated against an entire race, against women, and against the poor and other minority classes of our fellow citizens. Some of us no doubt embraced these changes as long overdue, while others resisted such "disruptions" ... the beginning of a schism in what had been a fairly homogeneous mindset for the majority of the country in the years following World War II. Activist movements to effect change were becoming more common, more strident, more demanding of sweeping and immediate transformations in tenets and lifestyles we had largely theretofore taken for granted.

For some of us, knee-length or longer (often homemade) dresses and skirts, and "comfortable" Levis worn under our Dad's shirts with socks and penny loafers, had given way to the miniskirts, baby-doll dresses, knee-high or white mid-calf "go-go" boots and hip-huggers of London "mod gear" ... Carnaby Street and Mary Quant ... accoutered by huge lined and mascaraed eyes, flowing manes or chicly sculpted short tresses, and pale pouty lips. We moved beyond Buddy Holly and Patsy Cline, both dead before we graduated in 1963, and discarded our earlier fealty to Elvis until he reinvented himself in black leather for his 1968 Comeback Special.

We grooved to the music of the Beatles (which was itself in metamorphosis) and the Stones (self-styled "Satanic Majesties"), listened to Aretha Franklin demand just a little R-e-s-p-e-c-t, Heard It Through the Grapevine with Marvin Gaye, thrilled to the soaring harmonies of the Mamas and the Papas, and took inspiration from Steppenwolf, who averred that they, and we, were Born to Be Wild. For those who preferred country music, it is worth noting that it was in 1968 that Johnny Cash cut his legendary live album At Folsom Prison, while Tammy Wynette sang openly of D-I-V-O-R-C-E, and Jeannie C. Riley "socked it to the Harper Valley PTA." Changing times indeed....

Many of the guys, even in Childress, grew their hair longer and donned bell-bottoms, patterned shirts and Edwardian jackets. Some, although inevitably evolving in attitude and outlook, never abandoned their mode of dress from high school, as evidenced by my occasional glimpses of them when we visited Childress and chose to spend an evening in Hollis dancing at Fuzzy's or The Sand Bar ... or at the 19th hole of the Childress Country Club (CCC), where we could now order a drink along with our parents. Another breach in the formerly mystic bastion of adulthood.... The jukebox there was a melange of music types and styles, running the gamut from Glen Campbell's By the Time I Get to Phoenix and The Legend of Bonnie and Clyde by Merle Haggard and the Strangers, to Simon and Garfunkle and Buffalo Springfield (the forerunner of the group that would become Crosby, Stills & Nash, eventually adding Young, and later sing about Guinnevere of the golden hair, a free spirit who drew pentagrams late at night while no one watched, but couldn't see the man who longed for her) ... but still no Jimi Hendrix or Janis Joplin with Big Brother and the Holding Company, apparently still a few searing chords and a primal scream or two too far out man for the CCC.

As 1968 began, the societal rupture and upheaval we were about to experience had been in prolonged gestation, although a rending, difficult birth was imminent. We marked many notable events in January ... the flowering of the "Prague Spring" in Czechoslovakia, brutally crushed by the Soviets and their Warsaw Pact allies in August; the television debut of the irreverent Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In, which arguably changed the face and style of comedy; the seizure of the USS Pueblo by North Korea on January 23; the beginnings of the Battle of Khe Sanh and the Tet Offensive in Vietnam, both generating widespread and increasingly heated debate of our involvement in an undeclared war in Southeast Asia, which ultimately by the time of its tragic denouement in April 1975 would cost in excess of 58,000 American lives ... mostly young lives ... mostly lives of our generation. I remember hearing at about that time that Travis Simmons, two years ahead of us at CHS, had been killed in Vietnam ... and I knew others who served there, honorably and well, who were forever indelibly marked by their service. I have often thought that as long as there is one of our generation alive, that war will never truly end.

Frederick Hart sculpture, a part of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, D.C.

On February 1, a photograph of the execution of a Viet Cong suspect in Saigon (it won the Pulitzer Prize in 1969) would serve as a further catalyst for a re-evaluation of our presence in Vietnam, a conflict which had been escalating steadily and was touching more and more American lives and families with tragedy. On March 12, President Johnson won a narrow victory in the New Hampshire primary over "peace" candidate Eugene McCarthy, reflecting burgeoning dissatisfaction and disagreement over the War, and on March 16, New York Senator Robert F. Kennedy (brother of the murdered JFK) entered the Democratic Presidential race, promising to end U.S. participation in an event which was increasingly perceived as a quagmire for our armed forces and our country. Also on March 16, American troops killed Vietnamese villagers at My Lai, although the details of the incident would take a long time to unfold. On March 31, President Johnson announced that he would not seek re-election, and would not run if nominated, thus becoming the most visible, if still living, casualty of the war until that time.

And then on April 4, Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated in Memphis, Tennessee. Assassinated ... once again, that terrible, dreadful word ... that almost unthinkable act ... a shock to so many of us, no matter what we may have thought personally of Dr. King or the civil rights movement. The arbiter of equality and non-violent change, dispatched so swiftly and irrevocably in the sharp, violent crack of a rifle shot. After the pain of the John F. Kennedy assassination, many of us had taken comfort in thinking that Kennedy's murder was merely an obscene anomaly in our "enlightened" day and age ... and yet, somehow it had happened again. Grief and disbelief ... followed by fear and fury after several days of violent riots in major American cities, one coming unnervingly close to the White House, and a shootout between Black Panthers and police in Oakland, California. What was happening to our country ... our world ... our sense of values? Some of us felt lost, adrift, bereft of the core beliefs we had held for so long. On April 11, President Johnson signed the Civil Rights Act of 1968, eased in its passage through the sometimes intractable Washington bureaucracy by Dr. King's death.

On June 5, Senator and Presidential candidate Robert F. Kennedy was shot to death in Los Angeles by a(nother) lone gunman, and the mind again reeled as we faced the fact that there were certain people, certain segments of our society, who thought it perfectly acceptable, even reasonable, to murder someone with whom they disagreed, as Ku Klux Klan members had done to three civil rights workers in Mississippi in 1964. James Earl Ray was arrested in London on June 8 for the murder of Dr. King, an event almost lost in the horror and shock over the latest Kennedy death.

Buried in the back pages of our newspapers, and likely only remarked by a few news commentators, if any, it was noted that on July 11 an obscure man named Saddam Hussein had led a coup d'etat in a Middle Eastern country, thereby first achieving ultimately corrupting power by becoming Vice Chairman of Iraq's Revolutionary Council.

In August, Richard Nixon was nominated as the Presidential candidate of the Republican Party, and chose Spiro Agnew as his Vice Presidential running mate. Amid unprecedented violent clashes between police and anti-war protesters in Chicago, Hubert Humphrey and Edmund Muskie were nominated by the Democrats. Humphrey-Muskie would go down to a narrow defeat in November, and Nixon-Agnew would be re-elected by a landslide in 1972. Segregationist candidate George Wallace proved disturbingly popular among some segments of society, and became the last third party candidate to win an entire state's electoral votes. Both Nixon and Agnew would later resign from their offices in disgrace (Agnew in 1973 and Nixon in 1974), becoming the only Presidential and Vice Presidential team in U.S. history to do so. The resignations, and Nixon's and Agnew's earlier vitriolic attacks on the news media investigating them, were inarguably, I believe, major contributing factors to our present-day cynicism and disillusion with politics.

The Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall by night, Washington, D.C.

In September, more than 150 women in Atlantic City protested the Miss America Pageant as being exploitative of women. Bras were burned, a thousand jokes were launched and the groundwork was laid for Rush Limbaugh's later rants against "Femi-Nazis" ... while most women quietly and outside the movement went on with the business of trying to obtain equal pay for equal work ... a goal still not realized. On October 7, NASA launched Apollo 7, the first of the manned Apollo missions, and there was a resurgence of pride in American accomplishments. At the games of the XIX Olympiad in Mexico City, the medal ceremonies of October 16 were marked and marred by the raised-fist Black Power salutes of American sprinters Tommie Smith and John Carlos. On October 24, the Department of Defense announced that about 24,000 U.S. troops would be sent back to Vietnam for involuntary tours of duty. In social notes, on October 20 Jackie, the beloved, iconic widow of President Kennedy, married Greek shipping magnate Aristotle Onassis on the island of Skorpios, putting a final dissonant coda to the end of Camelot. And on October 31, months after John McCain's plane was shot down and he became a Prisoner of War in Hanoi, President Johnson declared that he had ordered a complete cessation of the bombing of North Vietnam, effective the next day.

On November 14, the formerly exclusively male bastion of Yale University announced that it would become coeducational, to genteel and sometimes misogynistic consternation. (Many alumni of Texas A & M became apoplectic when the school went fully coed in 1970. My late father-in-law was one of them, and thereafter never donated a dime to the school, despite his earlier years of great pride in being an Aggie.) NBC's switchboard was swamped on November 17 when the network cut off the remaining 65 seconds (in "official time") of the Oakland Raiders-New York Jets football game in order to broadcast Heidi. The Raiders came from behind and scored two touchdowns, making the most of those precious seconds and enraging football fans across the country, causing NBC and the other networks to reevaluate their positions on cutting away from sports events to begin regular programming on time. On November 22, five years to the day after the assassination of President Kennedy, the Beatles released their eponymous ninth album, which would become known as The White Album, containing such music as Back in the U.S.S.R., Revolution and Helter Skelter ... taken as inspiration by a lunatic, homicidal, self-styled guru named Charles Manson, who would direct the terrifying murders of pregnant actress Sharon Tate and others in Los Angeles in August 1969.

On December 24, Apollo 8 entered lunar orbit and U.S. astronauts Frank Borman, Jim Lovell and William Anders became the first humans to see the dark side of the moon, and the entirety of the earth, as prelude to the launch of Apollo 11 and the moon landing by Neil Armstrong and Edwin "Buzz" Aldrin July 20, 1969. Armstrong's "one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind" fulfilled President Kennedy's goal of putting a man on the moon (and effectively winning the space race with the Soviets) before the end of the 1960s.

Whether you supported or opposed the Vietnam War, or like many came to oppose the war after initially supporting it ... whether you wore a peace symbol or a uniform, or both, or neither ... whether you believed the diverse movements toward civil rights for our fellow citizens were overdue in coming, or should have arrived "in due course" with calm, barely perceptible change ... whether you believed it was the right and duty of U.S. citizens to oppose policies of our government which they believed immoral or unjust, or felt that our government should be supported fully and completely, no matter what ... whether you loved our country but recognized its inequities and the necessity for change, or espoused that we should all love America without question or leave it ... whether you lived in a small town where change sometimes comes glacially, or in a larger city more roiled and affected by the tempests of the times ... the events of 1968 could not have failed to affect your life and your vision of the world today. As Dylan prophetically sang, our "present" in those days has now become our past, yet the reverberations and consequences of that year still resonate today, and will continue to influence our lives and those of our children and grandchildren, for many years to come.

It is said, although not documented as to authenticity, that the Chinese (in the throes of their horrific "Cultural Revolution" in 1968) have a saying that is both a proverb and the first part of a threefold curse of increasing severity: "May you live in interesting times." (The other two parts are "May you come to the attention of those in authority" and "May you find what you are looking for.") The times of our lives of the Class of 1963 have indeed been interesting ... and whether ultimately a blessing or a curse, or more realistically, a mixed bag (in the parlance of those days), they are nevertheless an ineluctable part of our history, our present and our future.

And, on a personal note (borrowing some lines from the singer Donovan): In those "chilly hours ... of uncertainty" of 1968, when it sometimes seemed the leaves were draped by tears of rain, between the pain of great loss and sustaining hope for the future, I made my own, life-altering and -affirming choice when I put out my hand to catch the wind and married Yahn (see my entry posted on the "Show and Tell" linked blog on January 29, 2008), who gave me true solace and refuge in the warm hold of a loving mind. We will celebrate our 40th anniversary at the end of May.

)O(

Just a thought…

I came to a horrible realization earlier. Two of my favorite people had birthdays in March. I forgot both of them. Now I feel really guilty. The first birthday I missed was the first of March….We were in Austin. The second birthday was in the middle of March…We were in Arizona. This must be what happens when we have too many things going on at once. I don’t think I can blame this on getting older! Happy late birthdays to Sue and Arlyna. Speaking of birthdays, for some reason I can never really enjoy my birthday and I know I am not the only one. How many of us when we were little used to cry when we were the center of attention and everyone gathered around singing, “Happy Birthday?” Maybe some of us still do??? Do we not enjoy our birthdays because it means we are getting older? Do we hate being the center of attention? Do we suffer from the extreme fear of being made to stand up in a restaurant (on a chair) while every one sings the dreaded song one more time? The best thing about a birthday is the cake. My sister-in-law, Sue, loves her birthday. She celebrates it all month long and calls it her birthday month! I admire that. Once again I am sorry I missed her “day”, but at least I had the month to make it right!!
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I found the coolest book, Historic Hotels of Texas: A Traveler’s Guide, by Liz Carmack. Wouldn’t it be fun to travel around Texas staying at these hotels. Well, not all of them would be fun. Many of them share bathrooms with multiple rooms and travelers. I don’t think so!!! Jim and I have stayed in only one of the hotels in the book, the Nutt House Historic Hotel in Granbury. It is a beautiful place inside. Every room was really great (with private bathrooms). I bought the book for Sue (see above). She is one of the people I know who will appreciate this. She and my brother, Roy, travel a lot, some of it in their RV. However, she is always looking for the new and the unusual to explore and enjoy. My brother is heavily into the genealogy of the families. They travel extensively around Texas visiting county courthouses looking at public records and visiting cemeteries to look at headstones bearing family names, taking photo records of both the courthouses and the headstones. They have a map of Texas on which they mark every visited courthouse. The goal is to get to all of them in Texas. They began RV’ing years ago, before cell phones and computers. Now they travel with both. The computer is a wireless laptop. I’ll bet they can’t imagine being without them now! They have met so many people on the road including the owner of a café in Oklahoma who saves a piece of chocolate pie for Roy when she knows he is stopping by

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I read a lot. I am guilty of taking my book with me everywhere. I am never bored when I have my book. I can sit in waiting rooms, in traffic and well, just about anywhere and I am very content as long as I can read. I even carry my book to ballgames. Jim has always said that he knew he was over the hill when he looked in the stands and saw me reading at one of his basketball games when he still played City League Ball. I read at games for various reasons. When I am really stressed over the game, it keeps me steady to read during time out, between innings or quarters, and sometimes during the game when I just can’t watch any more. I have told my family to never assume that I am not paying attention or that I don’t know what is going on just because I am reading. It doesn’t mean I don’t care about the game or them. I can even read and watch TV at the same time after all I am capable of multitasking! I try not to appear rude about it just in case anyone is wondering. I don’t read during conversations or when inter-acting with other people, but any other time is fair game. By the way, if I forget my book (horror of all horrors,) I am subject to reading cereal boxes and just about anything else I can find. Umm… maybe I am a little compulsive about it or perhaps am just an escape artist, but I refuse to feel guilty about it!


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Speaking of compulsive, the next best thing to reading is working Sudoku. I love those frustratingly addictive puzzles. I tell myself that it is good for my mind and, of course, it is. Being a former teacher, I can’t resist grading myself on each one I do. A+ when I sail through with few problems all the way down to F- when I have to “cheat” by looking at an answer before I can proceed or when I have to erase the whole darn thing and start over. How is that for compulsive?? I prefer to think of it as being honest with myself so I won't have to feel guilty about taking a tiny peek at the answers.

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I am looking forward to our class reunion, really I am and so is Jim. Las Vegas might not be my favorite place for a visit, but it doesn’t matter. I know we will have a wonderful time to relax and visit beyond the lights and glitter. There are seven months until we meet. How much weight can I lose in seven months?? Not many as long as I keep eating chocolate. Should I feel guilty about having so little self control? Oh well, at this point…

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Speaking of the reunion, I totally understand that for many of us there are plenty of reasons for not wanting to come and be a part and that’s okay. If there is one thing that I am certain of, it is that life is hard. I can not begin to imagine how life has been for our classmates since we left high school in 1963. Of course, most of us have grown beyond life as a teenage Childress Bobcat or at least I hope so. I am well aware that the “good old days” can be an interesting topic for only a short time and then it becomes necessary to find other commonalities and shared interests to carry us through. It is worth the effort?? I am certainly looking forward to giving it a try. By golly, (love that phrase) we can always talk about our grandkids, pets, hobbies, food and all that stuff. All that having been said, it would be awfully good to see you all again.

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Jim and I are looking forward to a small reunion with Phil Tutor and his wife along with Jennifer and Yahn. If you are in the area and want to join us for dinner Wednesday, April 9 in Dallas, let us know. We would love to see you. The more the merrier!

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Jim and I had lunch on Sunday with our former classmate, J.R. Bell and his wife, Jan. J.R. and Jan are in our Sunday morning Adult Bible Fellowship class at our church. That is the new term for Sunday school class or Bible study. While we have seen each other nearly every Sunday, this was our first chance to sit and visit and catch up. Jan is a 1970 graduate of Estelline High School. She was Jan Hudlow and her parents owned the grocery store there. Today Jan is an artist. Her work is remarkable. You can see for yourself at http://www.janbellartist.com/ . They are both looking forward to the Las Vegas reunion.
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The above thought carries my thoughts to the blog. It amazes me when I have so many people tell me that they check in on the blog if not everyday then quite often. I think a lot of Childress people do this as well as our class members and friends. That’s okay. In fact, that’s great! However, it occurs to me that so many people know so much about Jim, our family, and our quirks if you will, and we know so little about everyone else. Sometimes when I write, and I think Jennifer experiences this, too, I feel a huge silence or wall out there even when I know we are being read. Have you noticed the number of visits—over 4000 now!! We must be doing something right and meeting the needs of some people for keeping in touch. Of course, that is not a totally accurate count, but WOW that is a bunch of people. Okay, Okay, I know you all have lives beyond the blog. LOL An email now and then would be nice, too. Guilt trip not intended!
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Recently, I have also begun to realize that I am tired of being told how gross, how unhealthy, how dangerous, how nothing is right with food and drink that we consume. When I got the recently circulated email about lemons and how germ laden they are, I accepted the fact that it is time to throw in the towel. I mean really, what is left????? What’s a girl to do? Thank God for giving us dark chocolate!! (at least for now)
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What constitutes peace of mind? Is it the ability to live life without regrets? Is it never looking back and wishing that one had done things differently? What about guilt and peace of mind? There are 24,500,000 references to guilt on Google including this statement, “There is no emotion so slippery, so controlling, so unshakeable as guilt” Just a thought!
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What is it Barbara Walters used to say on 20/20? “We’re in touch so you’ll be in touch.” That is a worthy goal for our blog so maybe Barbara won’t mind if we borrow the phrase!




Post Script to the Post: Clara has published a great comment to the above post. Additionally she has sent some fantastic pictures that I want to share so I am adding them here as they won't fit into comments. Be sure to read all of her comments in the comments section.

From Clara: Re: old Texas hotels. We just stayed at the Gage Hotel in Marathon, Easter weekend. It was an experience-----a good one. I got the last available room. It was on the second floor of the oldest part of the hotel-----shared bath down the hall. The restaraunt was quite nice----great food, service, and ambience. We grabbed coffee and fried pies the next morning at Shirley's Burnt Biscuit Bakery and heard a few local stories before a couple more customers walked in.

The Gage Courtyard



The Gage Lobby