Let the Reunion Rock On

From the first emails and phone calls planning the reunion of women from Marian Central High School’s Class of 1966, every life decision Maureen made hinged on that one early week in April 2014. While Maureen needed dental work, she made it clear to both dentists involved that no appointments would happen until after Las Vegas. Carol’s looking for a job? As long as it starts after Las Vegas. I got roped into jumping on the early planning bandwagon with a call from organizer Chris after everyone sorted out that we’d all stay at Caesar’s Palace instead of the more expensive Bellagio, where Gerri planned to stay. As the departure date neared, Maureen reported a flurry of emails with everything from meeting up times to, of course, oh-what-to-wear.

I mentioned in the previous post Gerry’s very gracious hosting of dinner and cocktails on the first evening in Las Vegas. A couple of things struck me as an observer more than a participant. First, the smart phones – showing photos of kids and dogs to each other and snapping picture after picture of each other. 

Then there was the din of so many conversations starting, changing course and coming back, invariably to much laughter. And the stories:  Gerry, a newcomer to the grade school being told by a nun that she would share a locker with Maureen, who pointed out exactly what spaces to use, traumatizing Gerry to this day; tales of various hijinks in vehicles traveling at excessive speeds down country roads, fueled by alcohol, as it were; and the sadder recounting of classmates lost or vanished. All of which reflected the camaraderie going back for more than a half-century. And the accent. Everyone sounded like Maureen and her accent became more pronounced after every passing moment. The accent is hard to describe – it isn’t quite the movie Fargo, nor as distinctive as that of min-eh-SOH-dans (who hate the Cheeseheads – Green Bay Packer fans – even more that do Illinoisans).

The party in the suite continued for some time after Maureen and I Ieft, tired from our days of driving. The group convened for brunch on Sunday morning, our northern Midwest friends marveling at the flowers and warmth of the day, all but Pat and us having all just emerged from an unusual and hideously cold and snowy winter.

I got the group to pose for a group shot. Introducing (left to right):  Pat (Santa Fe), Maureen (Oakland), Kathy (Chicago), Chris (Crystal Lake, Ill., near the Wisconsin Border), Nancy (Wisconsin), Teri (Woodstock, Ill., Maureen’s original home), Gerry (also Crystal Lake), and Diane (Minnesota).

Moving this group of strong-willed girls took a firm hand. Most often, Gerry and Kathy knew where we were going and former teacher Chris led us, two-by-two. Often lagging in the back, I wondered about the seemingly amoebic movement of the group as it would ooze along, stop and clump for no apparent reason, start up again I disorder, then fall back into its decisively moving phalanx.

Maureen and I enjoyed meals with the group and some day time gambling. 

Mon Ami Gabi at the Paris Hotel/Casino

Hash House A Go Go in the Quad Hotel

Hash House A Go Go in the Quad Hotel

Our server next to Gerry and her "Man v. Food Favorite," Andy's Sage Fried Chicken.

The rest partook of much of what Las Vegas had to offer – the Bellagio fountain lights, the lights of Fremont Street in the old Strip, and a show – at least one arriving in the morning swearing off gin forever. It seems that everyone but me came out even or ahead in gambling on various machines (no tables for any of us, except the two who found an accommodating and bored roulette dealer who taught them how to play).

Far too soon, and with too early flights to reconvene on departure day, we bid farewell to the women of Marian Central High School’s Class of ’66.

Chris

Diane

Gerry

Nancy

Pat (with the "Enough with the camera" look)

Teri with yours truly, The Author (Thanks to Nancy)

Kathy

Maureen

Me, with white hair and shoes, impersonating a Q-Tip.

Maureen thanks everyone for the memories and looks forward to the next meet-up!

Death Valley Explored

We awoke early, as usual, rising from bed at Stovepipe Wells to a clear desert sky and reasonable temperature. 

I Febreezed the non-smoking room to within an inch of its non-life as we packed and loaded the van, sneezing at the smell of wood smoke coming through our open door. Our packing included all evidence of cigarette smoking, not wanting to pay the $250 “cleaning fee” that would have entailed the same Febreezing. We saw that I was fed before heading out to explore the valley while enroute to Las Vegas. I have to thank Maureen for her patience along the way as I braked hard over and over again to take advantage of photo ops. 

Maureen largely occupied herself rustling around with maps and trying, over and over again, to get enough cell “dots” to be able to view Saturday’s Santa Anita Derby on her iPhone. Not getting that and failing to know if the great race horse Zenyatta had thrown her third foal yet frustrated her to no end. When the guides to Death Valley indicate that cellular coverage is spotty, believe them. Most of the time, it is non-existent.

I couldn’t get enough of the color contrast, the vastness, the formations. On the Borax Twenty Mule Team loop of a couple of miles, I was also taken by evidence of rain runoff. The structural photos are of the Harmony Borax Works. Although I found some evidence of glass bottles broken long ago, I was impressed by the lack of trash and grateful to our fellow visitors for their respect of this National Park.

Telescope Peak from Death Valley

We stopped near the Furnace Creek resort to take a break. Dad and Pat stayed there when they ventured to and explored Death Valley. Hard to believe but it is true:  there is a golf course, of all things, in the hottest, driest part of the U.S.

I discovered, with my there's-an-app-for-that iPhone, that we were merely 73 feet short of the lowest point in North America.

Maureen was anxious to end the photo journey and begin our Las Vegas adventure so we motored from the emptiness to the outskirts of the city, marveling at the thousands of acres covered by houses, all painted in the same desert dirt color. More map rustling ensued as we neared downtown. At one point, I thought we needed to be six lanes across to the right of Highway 95 when we actually needed to be six lanes to the left. By the time we got to Caesar’s Palace, I was exhausted and very grumpy (which tend to go hand-in-hand for me). The solution? Feed me, of course.

As I stomped through the lobby and Maureen wandered around behind me, we entered the small restaurant just off the registration area of Caesars and heard a familiar voice call to Maureen. It was Pat, who’d just stayed at our house to attend the Napa memorial service for the husband of another of Maureen’s high school classmates. She was seated with Nancy at the outside restaurant bar area. Hugs, of course, followed by tales of travels between them as I slurped my French onion soup.

Feeling somewhat restored, we parted ways with Pat and Nancy to settle in to our room. It turns out that we had the best room, complete with view and jacuzzi. 

Relieved to be rid of the smoking Nazis, as we call them, and in a smoking room, I left Maureen to unpack to retrieve the van from valet parking to retrieve our six-pack of wine and bottled water. Nothing is free in Las Vegas, as we discovered when I called to inquire about the coffee pods that would fit the in-room coffee maker.

The time came to join the whole group of high school buddies in Gerry’s suite. She got it specifically for this gathering of dear (we won’t use the “old” word here) friends, and put on a feast of food and beverages for us. I took video when Diane, the last to arrive, finally got there.