Here's My Bunch

These are my step-grandchildren, the fringe benefit I got when my daughter married their Daddy. This is an old pic, Beth is now 9, Jessica is 11, and Alex is 12. They live in Oklahoma.

These are my son's sons. Caleb (white shirt) is 5 yrs & 7 mos, Levi (red shirt) is 3 yrs & 10 mos, and Ian is 1 year & 6 mos. They live in Georgia.

My Crew

Okay, I'll take the first plunge. He are my six grandkids... number 7 due around Thanksgiving.


This is Owen. He's 5 and lives in Wyoming.


This is Drew (7) and Aiden (5). They live in Hawaii.



This is Sean (7), Bryce (almost 2) and Wade (5). They live in South Carolina. They are going to have a new brother or sister around Thanksgiving. Grandpa Doug is holding out for a girl.

Well, as you can see, none of them live close to Grandpa Doug and I wish they did, but their parents have jobs that take them to different places. We see Owen about once a year. He'll spend a month here in a few weeks (hopefully). The girl's Dad is in the Army and before Hawaii they were in Japan, so we went some time without seeing them. We spent this past Christmas and New Years with them. The other 3 boys we see once or twice a year. Every time I look at this picture I want to squeeze the stuffings out of Bryce. :) I want to hug all the others too, but he's the baby and I owe him a few. :)

Well, that's my crew. Show me yours.

How About Pictures

Hey, with all the buzz about new grandbabies lately maybe it's time to start showing some off. This blog is about the Class of '70, right? Well, that's us now too, so why not add some of the stuff we're doing these days? I think it would be great to see Janis' and Sandra's new grandbabies, don't you?

So, what do you say? Send me pictures of your kids or grandkids or yourself, and I will post them on here. And, if anyone wants to, I'll show them how to post their own.

I have noticed that when new people come here one of the first questions they ask is what is so and so doing now? So let's show them.

Checkups

I've been a little quiet this past week because it was my checkup week.

One thing the Air Force got me in the habit of doing is having regular checkups, and I do it every year. The only difference is that since I've turned 50 they take longer. What used to be a fairly routine and simple procedure is now getting more and more complicated. They poke and prod in more places and take some of the ungodliest samples. Then there are follow ups for this or that, and what used to take maybe a half hour, now takes a couple of hours on several days during the week.

I do have a cholestrol issue, which is something I share with a lot of other southern males, and if anyone remembers from the last reunion I attended, I am also a bit... hmmm.... portly. So I have other traits I share with some of my southern peers in that I can't see my feet when I'm standing up, my belt buckle points a little too much toward the ground and I have a serious case of old man boobs.

I guess I am getting older. My body says I am, inside and out. More pills for the inside and the skin is filling up with age spots and honestly seems to look thinner. The funny thing is I don't really FEEL that much older. I feel the same now as I did when I verbally spared with Mrs Goode and Miss Mize during senior year.

Don't you?

Something I've Always Been Curious About

Down the south hallway, near the stairway leading down to the cafeteria, and between the restrooms, was a room labeled "Dark Room". What was that? Did the annual staff use it to process the pictures they took? Did they take any?

My locker was across the hall and a little bit west of the Dark Room and I only recall the door being open once or twice in four years. I can remember people joking about it and saying things like, "If they opened the door, the dark room wouldn't be so dark."

Then there were the rumors of people using it for something other than developing film, since it was locked and secluded, but then rumors get started over a lot of things.

So, can anyone shed some light on the Dark Room?

My Sentiments Exactly

Even if we are occupied with important things and even if we attain honor or fall into misfortune, still let us remember how good it once was here, when we were all together, united by a good and a kind feeling which made us perhaps better than we are.

--Dostoyevsky

Must Really Be Selective Memory

Lately, Brenda has been telling me things that makes me think that maybe my memory isn't all that great after all. She's not doing it intentionally of course, but when I mention something she mentions something else and it floors me that I don't remember anything about it. The last time was when I mentioned the prom she mentioned "Senior Week".

I don't remember any of it. Well, I do remember bits and pieces of graduation, but not much else. There was Class Night, I think it was called, where we walked as couples into the auditorium and there was a program that included the reading of our senior wills. I don't remember that.

I don't know if I was working or what. I can't believe I'd intentionally miss it, but who knows. I was as stubborn then as I am now. But if I did go, and if sometime one of you ladies reads this and says to yourself, "That jerk walked with me and he doesn't even remember," Please accept my humble apology. I'm sorry.

Then there was Baccalaureate Service night, a church service of sorts. I don't remember that either. Maybe I was at my usual station in the back pew. :)

If I went and had a good time, I hope someone remembers better than I do and tells me about it. If I didn't, sounds like I really missed something.

Prayers

The comment was made recently that we have lost several classmates in the past year.   It does seem that we've lost more than our share.

At the same time there are other classmates who have lost parents and other loved ones recently.  Susan Jone, Susan Rudd, Morris Wilson and Doug Adkins have all lost a parent in the past few months and then yesterday Mike Littleton lost his mom.  I hope I didn't leave anyone out.  I'm sorry if I did and would ask that if I have please add them.

Please remember all of them in your prayers.

You Can Pay Me Now or Pay Me Later

During senior year the military recruiters came to the school to administer their “qualification” tests. I am sure one of them mentioned the scores would be used to select a “career field” if we ever joined one of the services, but either my selective hearing missed it or I ignored it. To me it was a day (or half day, can’t remember which) out of class. Besides, I had a job at the new plant, Maremont, and it paid enough that within a few months of graduation I could have a place of my own, and then I could really party. Sure, I still had to deal with the draft; every one of the guys had to in their own way, but at 17 you’re immortal, so there was no way that would be a problem. But it was. The draft lottery that summer pulled my birth date and there was little doubt I would be drafted, so I opted for joining the Air Force instead, sort of legalized draft dodging.

A few weeks into basic training we were given a chance to pick the job we would most likely be doing for the next 4 years. They led us into a room and sat us in front of a chart so big it took up an entire wall that contained all the jobs in the Air Force and the scores it took to get in them. Then they gave us the results of those test we had taken during school. You know… the tests I wasn’t all that concerned about, and the effort I had put into them was obvious. They were categorized into 4 areas: mechanical, electronic, administrative and general. I don’t remember my exact scores, but I do remember that mechanical was my highest at 35. The scores were so low that at one point one of the instructors looked over my shoulder and said, “Damn boy, you should have got better scores than that by just spelling your name right.”

Surely I could find something though, even with the scores I had. How about medical tech? Nope. The general score for it was around 80 which was light years above my score. How about drafting, after all, I had taken Industrial Arts from Mr. Caldwell. Nope. I needed a mechanical score of about 60 for that one. Okay, so how about aircraft mechanic? Nope. That needed a score around 50 in mechanical. Okay, so how about a cop? Nope. 45 in general. Drill Instructor? Nope. 45 in general too. There had to be something I could do! Visions of being sent to the Army after all were swirling around in my head. Cook! How about cook? Nope! Cook needed a general around 40. I wasn't smart enough to fry an egg for the Air Force!

So I took my highest score, 35 in mechanical, and starting at the bottom of the chart I moved up to the best sounding job I was qualified for. There, finally, I found it. Rubber Raft Repair. That had to be a great job that razor sharp mind of mine reasoned. I mean this was the Air Force, not the Navy, right? How many rubber rafts could the Air Force have? Take my word, they have a ton!

As it turned out though, the old saying is right, "God watches over kids and fools", because it really wasn’t that bad of a job. I met some great people and that job combined with upholstery so I did end up learning a trade. Something I could fall back on if I needed to after I got out. I haven't used it so far, but I can still sew pretty well.

Several years later I retook those tests and did a little better with my lowest score being an 80 in general. Had I gotten that much smarter? Nope, not really, but by that time I had a wife and small son so I was definitely more motivated.

Funny how a little kid got me to do in a few months what a host of teachers couldn't pound into my head in 12 years.