Post #37

Thought for the day:

True friendship continues to grow, even over the longest distance. The same goes for true love.
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I believe I mentioned in an earlier blog that the Santa Rosa High School graduating class of 1944 will be celebrating its 65th anniversary next month and that I would be involved in the festivities by preparing name tags for each of the returnees. In the process of preparing those tags and other do-dads for the get-together, I have been searching through old yearbooks for pictures of the class members. Most of them are easily available from their graduation photos, but many of the boys left school early to go into the military service, so their pictures are not in the book. While searching for those pictures in the 1944 “Echo,” my well-worn yearbook, I couldn’t help but get sidetracked reading the things other kids had written throughout its pages. For the most part, those notes are what you might find written in any yearbook anywhere in the country, things like “To a swell guy,” “Good luck to a swell kid,” and “You’re a good athlete and a swell guy. Lots of luck in whatever you do.” This one cracks me up: “To one swell kid. I’ll never forget the swell things you’ve done for me and I wish I knew you better.” I didn’t realize until now as I read these notes how much we —boys and girls alike—used the word “swell.”
In addition to those typical “swell” jottings, though, there are some that are unusual—even kind of funny. For instance: “I hope you sit on a tack and rise rapidly.” Or “When you get old and have no teeth, call on me to chew your beef.” This one from a fellow art student has the message interspersed with drawings of a ham bone and a cow. He wrote, “From one ham to another, you’re the cream of the crop.” And here’s one that just fits Maggie Haines, the girl who wrote it: “I like pumpkins, I like squash, I like you, I do, by gosh.” Grandma and I still correspond with Maggie, and she still says things like “by gosh!” Thank goodness, good friends don’t change.
These are all fun and bring back many fond memories of good times with good people, but not all are as hackneyed, mundane, or just plain silly. There are some that still have special meanings and memories for me. Here’s one from Clara Waters, a beloved teacher: “…You do not need to be told that I have enjoyed our association as teacher-student-friends throughout our years together. May your manhood years contribute as much pleasure and help to all with whom you are friends, as your boyhood years have to me….” It was because of Mrs. Waters’ encouragement that I went to California College of Arts and Crafts; it was she who would good-naturedly argue with me about who was the better singer, Bing Crosby or Perry Como; and it was she who died the day before receiving my letter telling her how much I appreciated her.
In addition to this much-treasured note from Mrs. Waters, there are the intimate inscriptions from close friends, Bill Cunningham and Pauline Neil. The three of us served on the Student Body Governing Board together. Bill was the fall Student Body President and Pauline was Student Body Secretary. Neither of them will be attending the reunion this year—or any other year. They will be greatly missed.
The scribblings and the reminiscences go on and on. Even several days of looking and reading wouldn’t be enough time to soak it all up—time that I don’t have. I can’t leave this old worn book, though, without looking once again at entries by my bosom buddies, Lemar Fisher, Frank O’Connor, and Don Coleman, all of whom are now gone. Lemar’s comment was short, crisp and full of clever word-play, just the way he spoke in person (and not once did he use the word “swell”). Frank’s was casual and, in some way or another, captured the thoughtful, quiet drawl that was his way of speaking. Don Coleman, my best friend throughout high school and beyond, covered a full page with his thoughts. I won’t—can’t—quote it all here, but a small portion might give a little insight to the times and to our relationship: “…our friendship is elastic, as we have proven through past arguments and understandings…just know that whenever this war is over, if you ever need someone to talk to or turn to, I’ll still be here…” True to his word, Don was there. He was there waiting at the dock when I came home from the Philippines; he was there helping me to get readjusted to civilian life; and he was there serving as a groomsman when Grandma and I got married in 1947. His life reminds me that there’s nothing quite like the loyalty of young people to each other.
Well, this whole project has been an interesting and gratifying trip through the pictures and words of the past for me, and I am eager to see some old friends in person once more. I know that Maggie will be there again this year (by gosh!) and we hope there will be many others who are able to make it. I’m sure we’ll all do a lot of joking around about the things we wrote in each other’s annual—about how profound they seemed at the time we wrote them but how different they look in retrospect. Of one thing I am certain, while we are celebrating the 65th anniversary of the class of 1944, we will also be remembering the members of our class “family” who have already gone before us.
Their absence just makes our hearts grow fonder.
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For those of you who didn’t have time to solve the punctuation question—or couldn’t…or didn’t really care one way or the other—Nelson came up with the correct answer, which is:

“That that is, is not that that is not. That that is not, is not that that is. Is not that it? It is.”

For those of us who don’t know a comma from a coma, that is inspiring.

Now, how about punctuating this one:

“John where James had had had had had had had had had had had a better response from the teacher.”

Incidentally, my spell checker went crazy tyring to figure out what was going on with all of the “thats” and “hads.”

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