Greeting to all and welcome new friends to the EastWing.
On Memorial Day Weekend we had a 50th year high school class reunion at Grand Central Station. Yeah, that’s me 50 years out of high school. WOW, it don’t seem like more than 47 or so. Oh well, guess time flies when you’re having fun. And yes, we did have fun at that party. We laughed and we hugged, and we hugged some more, as we ran and played thru the memories of 50 years of living past high school. A fun party.
We planned the party as a two day, three event deal, with lots and lots of non structured time to visit with friends. Friday Evening, a Pizza Party, Saturday Morning Breakfast at Richard’s of Toto, Saturday Evening, the Grand Party at Grand Central.
There was no effort to get a head count for the Friday Night Pizza Party. Whoever showed up, showed up and we’d deal with it and do whatever it took to make the party pizza part work. We did, and it did. Lots came to the Pizza Party. As we came for the Pizza Party, we all hugged. We’re truly a class of huggers. And the really neat thing about a 50th year class reunion, we hug ‘em all, boys and girls both. Guess ya could call us a bunch of equal opportunity huggers.
The Pizza Party was a roaring success. Pizza and beer worked in 1962. Pizza and beer worked in 2012. In 1962 there was only one place in North Judson that made Pizza. The Club Tavern, THE BEST PIZZA IN THE WHOLE WORLD!!!. The only choice you had then was how many Pizzas ya wanted to buy, ‘cause they were all made the same. Today too damn many choices of toppings muddy up the Pizza waters. But our Friday Night Pizza Party Ruled.
Saturday Morning when it was time to leave for the Toto Breakfast, both Bentley and Miss Daisy were outside and refusing my suggestion to get their dog ass in the house. I just don’t know what it is about being outside that makes all my dogs go deaf once they cross the threshold. But they do go deaf.
Now me, I’m deaf both inside the house and outside. Without my magic ears, I only see the sound silence as people speak. My dogs on the other hand, no so much so, good hearing inside, deaf dogs outside. Surly they’re not ignoring what I say to ‘em, they’re just having trouble hearing outside ‘cause they’re too good a dog to ignore me.
But there’s another one in my life from whom I do sometimes get the impression of being ignored. Now ya gotta keep in mind Sophia has a PH.D. in Public Ignoring. I tried to convince Sophia that my PH.D. in Hospital Administration was more important than hers. Sophia’s response to that, she ignored me. Sophia has refined her expertise to a level beyond my comprehension before the cat came to the EastWing. She’s so good at ignoring you, Sophia can ignore you and you don’t even know you’re being ignored, as she looks at you with that cat expression of false concern. Damn Republican Cat.
With the Pit Bulls being unable to hear my proposal to come into the house before I went to Toto, I decided to leave ‘em outside, after all, I’m only going to be gone for an hour or two at the most. It was an hour and a half later that I came home and found, much to my surprise, the two Pit Bulls had changed color in 90 minutes. Mr. Bentley, who was a Brindle and White and Miss Daisy James, a Fawn and White, were now both the same color, a new dog color, MUD. DARK MUD. Both Bentley and Miss Daisy James were dark Mud and were they ever happy to see me come home.
Both had been in the swimming pool along with wallowing around in Lake Regina. The only bad part ‘bout their visit to the water parks were they’re not yet open for the season. The swimming pool still has the winter cover in place and lots of really dirty water, dirt, leaves and whatever else happened to find its way to a watery grave on the swimming pool cover. While Lake Regina is mostly mud and cattails. The cattails are now pretty much all flat in the mud.
I’ve never seen more happy Mud Puppies in my life. So much fun on an early Saturday Morning. Just two happy dogs having fun in the water on a hot May Saturday Morning. Of the two happy dogs, one was alive because another had died just 8 days back. Such a happy little Mud Pie, wanting to hug me for sure. We didn’t hug, me and Miss Daisy James, but we didn’t scold either, ‘cause life’s too short to scold a happy little Mud Pie. The clean up was not nearly as much fun as was making the Mud Pies. But it too was a little fun.
By the time the Toto Breakfast was finished that Saturday Morning and the Mud Pies turned back into Pit Bulls, I needed a nap before it was time to go to the final party of the class reunion. By 3 O’clock I was back at Grand Central Station and soon thereafter so was most everybody else. The party was to start at 5:00 PM. We were there by 3:30 and guess what. Yeah, the party started right then and there. No use to sit around for an hour and half waiting for a party to come by.
This is the first 50th Class Reunion held at Grand Central and someone didn’t provide name tags. Part of the fun of the party was trying to figure out who was who. No name tags was a good idea. But I did get s fair amount of criticism Friday Night for the lack of name tags, but that blew over pretty quick. So Saturday Evening I wore a shirt that said “Bob Howard” on the front and a larger “Howard” on the back.
When asked about the shirt, I reminded the inquirer about my announcement just before the Pizza was served Friday night. My announcement simply stated that due to a lack of name tags, we all should wear our name shirts on Saturday Night. Now the way I look at it, one of two things happened there Saturday Night. One being nobody really gives a damn what I say one way or the other. Or two, I’m the only person at the party who has a name shirt. I kinda hope somebody else has a name shirt, but just forgot I told ‘em to wear it.
Now I’m not even gona talk about that forgetting stuff, maybe some other time, but not today. ‘Cause that 50th Class Reunion was the best party ever. From the very start ya could just see that this was gona be a good time. We all hugged and hugged again, and it was just like recess, lunch hour and a pep session all rolled into one, only better.
There’s been a lot of class reunions at Grand Central Station. The Class of “62” has now set the standard for a memorable 50th Class Reunion. And we done it all without name tags, but did have one name shirt.
Stay Safe in Afghanistan.
From the EastWing, A Pizza Party, A Breakfast Party, Turning Mud Pies Into Pit Bulls, A Party For The 50th .
I wish you well,