High school 50th reunion, etc.

I will be posting several articles -- some with pictures -- for the next few days about my 50th high school reunion.

I went to Triton Regional High School in Runnemede, NJ. We were the first class to go all four years at Triton. In fact, the school wasn't even finished when we first started. Some of the hallways were blocked off, but the school opened in September of 1957 anyway.

Yes, I met my husband at Triton, but that's another tale for another day.

Let the journey begin!

Alan and I left on Wednesday, planning to arrive in Mt. Laurel around 2:00 in the afternoon on Thursday. That didn't happen. And prior to our leaving I had told Lorraine, reunion coordinator extrarodinare, (last name omitted on purpose) that I was going to be at the reunion if I had to be wheeled in on a gurney. Well, I did wheel myself in on a scooter for old, mobile-impaired people. I thank the inventor of scooters that come apart and can be put into the trunk of a smallish car.

However -- there's always a however or a but, isn't there? -- on Thursday morning after breakfast Alan collapsed/passed out/ fainted, we don't know, at any rate the poor lady in the hotel breakfast room where we stayed in Somerset PA on Wednesday night, came running out to the lobby where I was sitting in a comfy chair waiting for Alan to finish his breakfast and reading USA today, figuring I could get in a good hour of reading a book I was into. (Phew, long sentence. Ms. Magargee would never approve.) When Lois (the lady in the hotel breakfast room) came running out to the lobby yelling "CALL 911, CALL 911", I knew that Alan was down and out, and I was correct, he was lying on the floor next to our table unconscious. At that point I started laughing and Lois was near tears and I told her about relating to Lorraine that I would come to the reunion even if I had to be rolled in on a gurney and it looked like my husband was going to be the one on the gurney, or I was really going to miss the reunion, and that was NOT going to happen.

Actually, after 12 years of these episodes, I take it in stride and everyone thinks I don't care about Alan, which I really do, but I can't do anything, so I wait until EMTs arrive and then transport him to the hospital and get a doctor's report. In this case, they filled him with fluids, raised his oxygen levels, watched as his blood sugar level went down, and let him go, telling him to be certain to get in touch with his physician as soon as he got home. That appointment had been made several weeks ago, so tomorrow he will be seeing his physician.

Today is Monday, September 19, and this is the first BLOG I have written since before I left for NJ and the reunion. Needless to say, since I got to the reunion, and home again, all is well with Alan.

When we left Somerset, three hours later than I had scheduled for us to leave, after three hours of great driving on the PA Turnpike, I saw a line of red lights ahead after we exited at Valley Forge. We had run head on to a massive traffic jam because of more flooding in NJ and PA, on the Schuylkill Expressway. Four hours to go from Valley Forge exit of the PA turnpike to the Ben Franklin bridge. By the time we checked in I was exhausted and my knees were killing me.

You know what happens in traffic jams you have to switch from gas to brake, gas to brake, gas to brake and that really is not pleasant when you have two bum knees. Funny thing is, I had absolutely NO pain for the three days prior to our departure from Cold Spring, until we were on the Expressway, then I went downhill from there.

So, keep checking FB and I will keep going through the reunion part of our trip, since, after all, I went to school at Triton, which is located in Runnemede, and many of the attendees at the reunion were from Runnemede. So what happened at the reunion is not staying at the hotel where we had all our fun, but will be BLOGged for all the world to view -- as if!

Pictures will be included as soon as I get my battery pack recharged and the pictures downloaded.

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It's getting close

What is? The 50th anniversary of my high-school graduation -- well a little past that time, but the class is celebrating next weekend. I am really excited to be going back to Runnemede again, and it will probably be my last trip East.

I shall get a hoagie, a cheese steak, a half a pizza, and anything else I can think of. Since TastyKake is no longer in existence, eating that won't happen. So that means, I suppose I can eat more hoagies or cheese steaks that I had originally planned.

I'm also really looking forward to going to church on Sunday morning at Mt. Calvary. I forgot to get a picture of the cornerstone when I was home for the 100th anniversary celebration, so I want to try to remind myself to get a picture of that this time "home."

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Goodnight Irene

I remember one time when I was a child, probably 7 or 8, there was a popular song entitled, Goodnight, Irene. And one night there was a bunch of rowdies over at Downing School sitting on the Girls steps singing at the top of their lungs that song. Over and over and over again they sang that song until we who lived across the street from the school and could hear them -- it was very warm night in the summer -- wanted to go to sleep.

Since it summer we had all the windows open so we could catch a breeze. Dad had gone across the street and asked them to stop singing or go somewhere else. They didn't respond in the affirmative to his request. Dad came home a bit miffed (I'm putting that kindly). He finally called the police who broke up the songfest.

By the way, the only part of the song they knew was the chorus.

Words: Irene, Goodnight; Irene, Goodnight. Goodnight Irene, goodnight Irene, I'll see you in my dreams.

Maybe if we all sing that loud enough "Irene" will go to sleep or at least roll over and go the other way.

Prayers are with you all on the coast. I'll be there in a few days, and I can't wait.

By the way, stay away from Timber Creek. Remember, it's tidal.

TTFN

Air conditioning

Do you see that little house at the top of this BLOG? That's the house I grew up in, got married from, and returned to every summer for 25 years or more. There was never an air conditioner in that house when I lived there. We had fans.

There was a fan in that front top-floor window, pulling IN the cool, shaded air. There was a fan in the back window, drawing OUT the hot attic air. Downstairs there was a fan in the living room, and one in the dining room.

My dad did not like air conditioning, nor did my mom. I never knew I was deprived by not having an air conditioned place. I just tolerated the heat, and it often got hot enough to cook an egg on the sidewalk. I know this because every time the temperature reached 95 degrees or so, the front page of the Courier Post and/or the Philadelphia Inquirer had a picture of someone frying an egg on the sidewalk.

My grandchildren, the ones that live over on the next hill from us, fried eggs on their driveway earlier this week, and they could have fried them every day.

I'm not complaining about the heat, mind you. I just stay indoors in my nice non-deprived air-conditioned house, because I know that come late December, early January, I'm going to be wishing it was summer or that I was in Florida enjoying warmer weather.

I don't like this heat and humidity, I didn't mind the heat in the southwest when we were there and the daily temps were getting up into the 100s every day, but I shan't complain, because I know what's coming.

Snow, snow, snow, snow, snow!

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Pictures

I was thinking about this the past few days -- the fact that today we have instant pictures -- not Polaroids, but digitals which can be printed into great, color prints.

When I was growing up even color pictures were rare. The film was expensive as was the processing. So, when I got my little Brownie camera I always bought black and white 120 film. And I'd go through a roll of film in double time and then get the pictures developed.

Back then (in the 40s, 50s, and even well into the 60s) you have to wait almost a week to get your pictures back from the developer. And was the wait worth it? Mostly.

The picture up top is one of the many I took when I was a child. This was in 1955. I was 12. The coat mom is wearing is made of squirrel and I loved that coat. I "inherited" it long before she died and wore it when I was a lot smaller than I am now. It was so warm. I remember begging her to let me wear it when we went Christmas carolling because I wanted to be warm and it was so cold out.

Anyway, I was thinking about how great it is to have those instant pictures to send around the world so people can see what we're up to and enjoying and the places we're visiting, or just seeing people's (children's) faces.

Do I print all those digitals? No. Wish I could, but I already have thousands of un-scrapbooked pictures, all neatly filed (hard copies, not just on the computer) and ready to be inserted in a scrapbook.

One of these days...maybe I'll get them all in books.
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New computer

Growing up in the 40s/50s in South Jersey I would never have dreamed of something like a computer. Then when I went to college, the computer was a "new" baby, but was too big for anyone to own one, we only had cards with little chads in them telling the mammoth main frame what to do. I had a difficult time grasping that one. I was still in the typewriter age -- at least I had graduated to an electric typewriter.

Well, 50 years later I find that I am pretty computer literate -- NOT programming literate. Let's face it, I'm a user, just like I was a typewriter user back in the good old days. However, I could take apart my manual typewriter and put it back together, seriously. I could pretty much maintain my electric typewriter as well. Back then an electric typewriter cost as much as a laptop (mini) does today, but when the average take-home pay for me and my peers was maybe $60 a week, buying a new typewriter every few years because of some glitch was not even an option.

So why am I writing all this in Runnemede Remembered? Well, my first job was as a typist for a man who attended our church. Then my second job was a typing job for Mr. Softee. My third job was a sales job for Strawbridge's, my fourth job was as a temporary person in whatever typing position my overseer sent me. Get the picture. All those jobs originated in Runnemede.

Now I know that Runnemede has joined the computer age. No longer is the library a small card file with 500 books, no longer do the banks write deposits and withdrawals in long-hand. No longer do the check-outs at cash registers require the cashier to divine the change in a transaction.

I am writing this because I have to get a new computer. My laptop is shot, almost, and it's more frustrating to use it that to not use it, but then I miss so much --BLOGs, e-mails, internet, information about the upcoming 50th reunion of the first class to go all four years through Triton.

Progress, it's amazing, frustrating, time-consuming -- but I love it. Be back when I get the new computer up and running.

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Those hazy, hot, humid days of summer

It isn't summer yet, but the weather is very much summer(ish). Over a week of hazy, hot, and humid days evokes memories over 60 years old. Yes, 60 years.

I know NJ schools are open longer than those in the Midwest where schools have been closed for at least a week.

I recall that immediately after school was dismissed for the three-month summer vacation, the next week started a two-week Vacation Bible School. The thinking was that it was still early summer and the dogdays hadn't quite reached NJ. Wrong.

Also, VBS began at 9:00 a.m. the thinking being that children were used to getting to real school by 9 a.m., so getting to VBS by 9 a.m. would not be difficult. Also, it was cooler before noon than after noon. Wrong.

At least from a child's perspective. Personally, I always looked forward to being able to do what I wanted to do, be able to sleep longer, be able to sit on the cool(er) front porch and read, etc. But I did like VBS.

VBS started with a "pep rally" each day. Dad would start us out with a bevy of songs and flag pledging and scripture verse memorizing. Then we got the project for the day. If we returned the next day and had one of the five best turn-ins of the project, we received a prize. I can only recall winning one prize that I really, really wanted and that was a sheriff's badge. The project? Write out the 10 commandments in my best handwriting. Not only did I write out the commandments (shortened version that appears on many courthouses), but I included all the other words in Exodus 20 as well. I was determined to win one of those badges. And I did. That was my "Western" summer. I had a holster with a cap gun, my sheriff's badge, my rope which I learned to used quite well, actually, and I had a baby brother who would sit still long enough that I could lasso for practice.

We all were ready after the "pep rally" to head downstairs for our lesson and handcraft project. These were the days before air conditioning was common, especially in churches. So the basement provided a lot of heat relief.

The lessons were themed, I suppose. I only really remember the Moses to Ten Commandments to Joshua series.

The handwork projects included woodcarving -- we made bookends. This included varnishing them, carving them, and putting them together with a screwdriver. Teacher help was available, but as I am not a very patient person, I did my own, proving that an eight-year-old could do something a little difficult.

VBS at Mt. Calvary. After the first day of getting "in the groove" so to speak, it was two weeks of great fun, adventure, and friendship.

Oh? And did I mention the wonderful snacks? No? Well, that's because they weren't real good, but the teachers tried. I recall the really bad homemade root beer. I mean it was really bad, but the dear lady who made it faithfully each year for all us children, was thanked by one and all, regardless of whether we liked it or not.

I pray that this year's VBS programs will be as much fun for the children who attend as they were for me when I was a child.

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