Dieting For My Reunion?

Margaret Cline -1962

Oh, what a difference 55 years can make in our appearance.  Today, my skin no longer fits my body properly, I have a big gap in my front teeth caused from TMJ, my waistline is much wider, my feet were crippled from a botched foot surgery in 2014, and I don't even want to talk about my arms or neck!   None of that bothers me, but the one new thing that does bother me is arthritis.  I no longer stand tall and straight but stand stooped, like an old person. However, most of the time, I still think youthful thoughts, much like I did in 1962.  In the end, our mind is the most important element in our bodies.  Especially its capacity to remember.  

Margaret Cline Harmon
2017

I look forward to attending my SHS's 55th Class Reunion next week in Sikeston, Missouri.  Labor Day, I gave serious thought of starting a diet to look better for the event. Then I realized it is impossible to lose thirty pounds in four weeks, so I forgot about it.  The Class of 1962 will share many memories when we meet.  None of us will see as well as we did when we graduated from the NEW Sikeston High School.  We can not hear as well as we did back then, and we will all be carrying more weight than in our high school days.  

All of our children are grown, and we have grandchildren, and a few have great-grandchildren.  Our formative careers have now ended.  The reason most of us will attend the reunion is for the shared memories of the time we were relatively worried free.  We can all remember when our bodies functioned perfectly and looked much better than they do now.   Most of us return to our class reunions to visit with our classmates, and recalling their personalities in 1962.  When talking to a classmate, it is common to see the other person as we saw them in high school.  We recall working together in different clubs, in the band, in sports, and in the choir.  The memory of getting up early to be at marching band practice at 7:00 AM  and after school club meetings are strong.  We have collective memories of fun, silliness, and serious moments together as a class, and individually.  

People return to various types of reunions for the feeling of inclusion, and the feelings and memories a place and people produce.  We remember the Bulldog Inn, the Cotton Gin and its smell, the Cow Bell, the Dunn Hotel, the Gay 90's Village, Kirby's hamburgers, the Malone Theater (when it was downtown), Nancy's Sweet Shop, SHS Championship Football, the Skating Rink, Wag's, Woolworths, and much more.  We even remember when Elvis performed at the Armory in Sikeston, not once, but twice.

Elvis Presley - 1955

This year, we will also mourn the loss of classmates - Bob Depro, Joan Happe, Nellie Karnes, Lonnie Dickie, and Phillip Payne.  Like life, this reunion will be filled with joys, fun, and sadness.  It is a time to appreciate each classmate for who they were, and who they have become.  I pray each returning member of the Sikeston High School Class of 1962 arrive safely, and that they return home with a spring in their step and humming "The Red and the Black."  Go Sikeston Bulldogs!   

Southern Porches and Warm Friendships in the 1950s

The above "Southern Porches" is 

one of my paintings from 2015.

When I think back to my hometown of Sikeston, Missouri, I remember homes with grand porches and some porches that were humble in style.  What they had in common was the gracious hospitality extended from those porches.  In the 1950's, people moved at a much slower pace.  They took the time to stop and visit with their neighbors and to have a glass of brewed tea over ice.  The homeowner would never think of giving a guest a plastic cup of ice tea.  Back then, they served drinks of hand-squeezed lemonade or brewed ice tea on attractive trays, brought from the kitchen to the porch.

Children were expected to play outside in the 1950s.  Their games relied on imagination, with few props, and they exerted a lot of energy.  If the weather was bad, or it was raining, many children played on their front porches.  Girls played jacks or dressed their dolls.  Boys only played on the porch when it was necessary.

Most people in their 70s now, well remember their mothers saying, "you kids go outside and play."  When the weather was clear, most kids rode bikes from early in the day until it started getting dark.  They knew to go home when the sun began to go down, or some had a designated time to be inside the house at the end of the day.

Some of the games I remember playing were Hide and Seek - where one or more kids hide, and one person stays on base.  The child waiting behind (the hunter), would cover their eyes and count to an agreed number, before going on the hunt for the others.  Those hiding tried to run back to base before the hunter could find them.  If they made it back without being tagged, they were safe from becoming the hunter.

My brothers and their friends used to play Kick the Can.  It only required a used can that one of the Mom's provided from the kitchen.  The game was usually played in the driveway or street and could involve any number of kids. It was like neighborhood soccer before American's knew anything about soccer.

Children also played Hop Scotch.  It involved a driveway or sidewalk and the use of chalk.  Players started off using two feet, then one foot, and alternated between the two until they reached the end.  One needed both balance and rhythm to be good at this game.  Girls were better at it than boys, and usually sang songs or chatted while playing.

Then, my favorite was Red Rover. It was a group activity. You needed at least six kids to play it, and eight or ten worked even better. Each side lined up facing the other, clasping hands with their teammates. One team would send a runner to the other team to crash in between two of the other team’s players, where their hands met. The runner tried to break the hands apart, while the defending team sought to stop the attack and catch the runner. If the runner broke through, they grabbed a player from the other team and took them back to join their team. If the runner didn’t break through, then the runner was captured by the team that stopped them.  At times, this could go on for an hour.

I don't understand why, when one turns sixty-five or seventy, their minds drift back to their childhood.  Surely, we felt safe and loved back then, and more importantly, we had few responsibilities or worries.  It could be an escape from the trials, tribulations, and health issues of one's current situation.  Today, I remember the good times I had on my front porch with neighborhood girls.  Have a wonderful week, and think happy thoughts.

A Family Adventure to Pikes Peak in 1949

Curtis Cline handing his
daughter Margaret a snow
ball on top of Pike's Peak.

My father, Curtis Henry Cline, set a goal to eat a snowball on top of Pikes Peak, Colorado on the 4th of July. The picture to the left was taken on top of Pikes Peak in 1949.  My Dad is handing me a snowball.  At one time, my parents had a picture of Dad standing in front of a large snow bank with the words "July 4, 1948" carved in the snow to mark the moment Dad reached his goal.  Over the years that photo was lost.

My parents purchased a new Willis Jeep "Woodie" station wagon for the trip.  It was called a Woodie because it had real wood on the bottom half of the station wagon.  It was a nine-passenger vehicle with the latest conveniences.  Dad and Mom invited their church friends Floyd, Berry Dillender, and their son Mike to vacation with us to Colorado.  Mike and I were the same age, so that gave me someone to talk with because my older brothers didn't want to bother with me.  My brother Gene was twelve, and C.F. was nine at the time of our trip.

Before the journey, my Dad cleaned the car from top to bottom, even the engine.  He took it to a garage and had everything inspected before we left.  It took us a couple of days to drive to Pikes Peak, and we stopped to visit points of interest along the way.  A few nights we stayed in a motel, and the other nights we camped in tents.  Dad built a medium sized trailer which they pulled behind the car to haul our luggage and camping equipment. My brother Gene reminded me that he remembers before dark, Dad looked for the right place to park and camp for the night.  After we had eaten by the campfire, the adults slept on cots under the stars, and the four children slept in the Jeep station wagon.  Those were kinder days than today; I would not think of sleeping on the side of the road today.

I remember being happy to see the sign "Welcome to Colorado."  The cheering stopped once we started the ascent to reach the top of Pikes Peak.  My parents found the hairpin curves a challenge.  My Dad drove on the way up, and my mother kept screaming he was too close to the edge of the road.  My brothers and I were bored by then, as well as Mike, so we began to argue.  At this point, my Dad stopped the car and got out.  The car was starting to run "hot" on the way up, so Dad stopped the car, walked back to the trailer, and took out a container of coolant.  He insisted on changing the cooling system, or radiator, in an available wide spot in the road about half the way up the mountain.   I was elated that we made it to the top in one piece.  My mother complained about Dad's driving and was not happy about his "cooling" stop, so Dad told her she could drive on the way down. 

My brothers told the story of rolling me in the snow on my fifth July 4th birthday on Pikes Peak.  I don't remember being pleased about that, but they thought it was funny.  When we reached the top, we could see a cable car we could have taken up.  I am sure it would have been much more fun than the hairpin curves.  It was a beautiful view, but it was cold.  
Coming down Pike's Peak was worse than going up.  You had to brake a lot on the hairpin curves on the way down.  At one point, our tires or brakes started smoking.  Again, we had to find a wide spot to pull over, let everyone climbed out of the Willis to let the brakes cool off.  Cars were not air-conditioned back then, so it was cooler outside the car than it was inside.  Once we started down again, my brother Gene said, "look beside us, that trailer looks just like ours."  To our horror, it was ours.  The trailer hitch was not fastened tightly enough to withstand the hairpin curves.  A man who stopped to help us said the constant switching motion on the trailer hitch caused the connection to fail.  I can tell you there was some panic in the car chasing that trailer!  My mother said if it hit someone we would be sued.  That frightened me, and I began to cry, on top of all the other drama in the car.  The Dillender family were much lower key personality types than our family, but even they were concerned with the run-a-way trailer.   In the end, the good Lord was with us because the trailer hit one of the broader places in the road, skidded to the end of the emergency pull-off, turned around and lined itself up perfectly for Dad to reconnect it.

After a good night's stay in a motel, we got up the next morning and visited the sandstone formations known as the Garden of the Gods and the Cave of the Winds near Colorado Spring.  The cave is also near the Manitou Cliff Dwellings. We took the 45-minute walking discovery inside the Cave of the Winds.  It was an educational journey for families and beginning cavers. The visit inside was fascinating.  When we finished the tour, we purchased a "ViewFinder" and a dozen or so "3-D slides" at the gift shop. There was also a nice place to picnic, so we enjoy eating our lunch outside the cave.  The scenic slides help to entertain us for many miles, and I viewed those slide until I was well into my twenties. 
 
Family members talked about that trip for years.  The beautiful vistas and plants along the way also gave my father the idea of starting a nursery a few years later.  I sure wish I could talk with my parents about the trip one more time.  But alas, it shall not be.