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!   

Dreaming Under A Wisteria Covered Arbor in the 1950s

This is one of my paintings.
It is named
"Under the Wisteria Covered Arbor."

The year was 1949 and I was five years old.  My family and I returned from Colorado that July to Sikeston, Missouri.  My Father found Missouri to be very hot after being in Colorado for several weeks.  One summer evening after our return, we all sat outside and talked about our wonderful vacation.  The next day, he built an arbor next to the double windows outside the master bedroom.  He thought it would make the home’s master bedroom cooler in summer.

I watched my father build the arbor.  He planted small wisteria plants at the foot of each post.  He was a man six feet tall with an average build and powerful hands.  My Father’s bald head showed signs of sweat from the summer heat.  His sky blue eyes sparkled with delight as he told me that next year the wisteria plants would bloom with purple flowers.  I enjoyed spending time with my father.  He was usually happy and always in a hurry to get things done.  He enjoyed working and, whenever possible, he took me with him.

After two summers, the wisteria vine grew until it spread to cover the top of the arbor.  The wisteria made a screen from the hot sun above.  The long purple clusters of flowers cascaded down from the top of the arbor.   I loved the sweet smell and pretty sight of the wisteria in bloom each spring.  With time, the soft blooms dropped to the ground to form a beautiful blanket of purple.

Each summer I took delight in sitting under the wisteria-covered arbor.  My parents subscribed to the National Geographic magazine that told in words and pictures of places unfamiliar to me.  I would fantasize about being in far away places and experiencing the glory of learning new things, eating unusual foods and hearing foreign languages.  The wisteria-covered arbor became a haven to escape from hot boring summers.

       I felt stifled in Sikeston.  My mother wanted to take me with her fishing but I found sitting looking at the dirty water anything but interesting.  The weather was hot in the summer and cold in the winter.  I never understood what enjoyment my mother obtained in fishing unless it was her way of escaping from a life in which she appeared to find limited pleasure.  
   Most of the National Geographic magazines showed beautiful photographs of Africa, China, Europe, South America and other foreign countries.  There was one article that wrote about Medieval German states, and it had stunning photographs of men and women dressed in period costumes, standing in front of Medieval structures.  I dreamed of going there someday.  They also published an article on New York City and its many attractions.  Oh my!  I promised myself that someday I would go to New York City and see those sites displayed in the magazine. 

       Einstein said, “Imagination is everything. It is the preview of life's coming attractions.”  I imagined myself in some of those places viewed and read about when under my arbor.  I traveled to New York City twelve or more times on business.  Due to my work schedule, I didn't have a chance to visit all the sites to see, but I did get to see a few.  To me, it is the energy I felt when walking on the streets, or riding in an elevator, or talking with my business associates that stimulated me on my visits there.  I considered writing about the many places I have visited, but thought the focus of this Blog should be on "Imagination."  I am a goal setter.  If you don't plan for the future, you will accomplish much less than you are capable of achieving.  In the fall of my life, I have learned that relationships matter and you should imagine positive things for yourself because it could be the "preview of  life's  coming attractions.”

Mickey Was My Best Friend and Companion

Me with Mickey in 1959
Hat, Gloves & Mutton Coat

I was six years old when my parents bought me a golden tan and white Collie puppy.  I named her Mickey.  We grew up together.  I sometimes dressed her up when I was playing tea party and other games.  She never seemed to mind, as long as we were together.  My two brothers were older and did want to be bothered with me.  Mickey was my constant companion at home and my best friend.  When something good happened, I told her all about it.  If something unhappy happened, I told her about that too.  She sometimes put her long nose on my shoulder and whined when I was upset or unhappy.

The family all loved her.  We took her on trips to St. Louis to visit my mother's sister, Aunt Beulah and her family, and on other short trips.  Mickey curled up below my mom's feet in the floorboard and traveled well.  There was one problem we did have with Mickey on car rides, and that was that she would fart now and them.  The smell was bad!  If the windows were not down before she blessed us with her unique smell, they were open soon after.  We never figured out what made her fart, but it never kept us from bringing her with us on short trips.

As a female, she went into heat every ten to twelve months.  That was not a pleasant time for her, for me, or the rest of my family.  We had to keep her inside, and when we left for any reason, we had to put her in our shed and lock the door.  It must have been very hot in there. Today, we would have put a large fan in there for her.  Anyway, when my parents thought it was the right time, we drove to Poplar Bluff, Missouri to breed her with another Collie.  To the best of my recollection, she had three litters of puppies.  They were cute for the six or seven weeks of their lives that we possessed them.  We kept them on the back porch with their mother.  Because of Mickey's size, she was an outside dog.  I remember for one litter of pups she went under the house in the crawl space and gave birth to her puppies.  My father was not happy about having to get under the house and remove those puppies.  She usually had nine to twelve pups each time.  After the third litter of puppies, my folks took her to the Veterinarian and had her spayed.  She gave me much joy and comfort over the years.

One night I came home from a Sikeston High School football game, and all the lights were on, and the door was open.  No one was home, and the car was gone.  That was very odd, and I became frightened that something bad had happened.  About twenty minutes later, my parents came in, and it looked like they had been crying.  They looked at me compassionately.  Dad said, "We are sorry, Margaret.  Mickey is dead.  She had a heart attack.  We took her to the vet, and he gave her a shot.  He told us the shot would make her well or she would die.  In about five minutes, she awoke and looked at us, wagged her tail and we petted her.  We left her to pay the Vet for his services, and when we when back into the examining room to get her, she was gone.  We are sorry, Margaret."  I was sixteen at the time, and I had enjoyed Mickey's companionship for ten wonderful years.  I asked where she was and they said she was in the trunk of the car.  I went out to tell her goodbye, and I just petted her and talked to her for about twenty minutes.  I finally accepted the fact that she was gone and would never greet me again, never listen to my thoughts again, and a part of the childlike joy for life was vanquished that night.

The next day the whole neighborhood knew about Mickey's death.  My dad made a wooden crate, dug a hole in front of her dog house, put her in the crate, and we had a small memorial service.  Many neighbors attended, and several cried, along with me.  My heart ached when my Dad covered her with dirt, it acknowledged that my loss of a wonderful companion and friend was forever.

Dogs are excellent companion and friends to millions of Americans.  Today, even more than in earlier times, we treat them as a member of our family.  The small dogs are like our babies.  It is hard to say who received more gratification from the special bond we have with pets - them, or us.  I still miss you, Mickey!

1950s Dating in Sikeston, Missouri

Tom and me with Monoply Board

My freshman year at Sikeston High School I enjoyed playing trumpet in the band, marching in the band at football games and parades, being with my girlfriends in Red Peppers, participating in the National Forensic League (a speech and debating club), and a few more activities.  But most of all I enjoyed spending time with Tom Harmon.

I remember that each day after school he would be waiting for me by the Band Building.  He would carry part of my things and we would go to Wag's and get a Pepsi and Fifth Avenue candy bar.  On the way home, we would share the 12-ounce drink, in a bottle, and 3 ounce candy bar.   We stopped at Heath Street to go our separate ways.  We looked into each other’s eyes and hating parting.  We must have looked ridiculous to others.  We were very young, only 14 and 16 years old my Freshman year, and yet thinking we were grown-up.  Surprisingly, I am still with that skinny, pimple faced boy.  He is no longer skinny and has put on weight over the years.  His skin is now clear and he is a handsome man.

Tom had no car, so we walked places.  I know that seems odd today, but in the 1950s and early 1960s people in small towns often walked places.  Most families had only one car that they shared.  Dad always had the last word on who got to use the car at any given time.  Partly because we walked, everyone was thinner back then.  People never ate in their cars, they ate together at the kitchen or dining room table.  In general, everyone was more active, and kids played outside until their mothers called them in at evening time. 

There was not a lot to do in Sikeston without a car.  We went to the movies one a week and went out driving around with friends in their cars.   Tom came over to my house almost every night.  My parents were not fond of cards, so we played board games at my house, like Chinese Checkers or Monopoly.  Most evenings we walked out back and sit on the picnic table and talked.  When my Dad came out and coughed it was time to go back inside, and for Tom to go to his home.

My parents tried to interest me in other things so I didn't spend as much time with Tom but that rarely worked.  I do remember my going to Band Camp one summer at Southeast Missouri State in Cape Girardeau.  That was a lot of fun.  I made new friends and interacted with students who all enjoyed playing music.

Oh, if we only knew then, what we know now.  I realize now that our youth is a time to explore opportunities and broad friendships.  Had I not been wrapped up in Tom Harmon I might have had a much richer High School experience.  I have had a good life and would change only a few things.  I look forward to my class reunions and will be in Sikeston attending my 55^th SHS Class of 1962 reunion this September.  I realize how much I missed in school when I listen to friends fondly recall all they did in high school, without being focused on a single person.  Sadly, we can only give young people advice to enjoy their youth, each one has to experience it their way.  What is good for many, is not always good for others.  Those differences make life and people interesting.  I remember that walking home with Tom Harmon made me happy then, and I still enjoy walking beside him today.