Important Messages
I
thought you might like to make our class aware that Don was recently
successful in his campaign for the Board of Directors at Everett Golf
and Country Club. I'm sure the plaque of Don was very helpful, even
though it looked like shameless self-promotion. Congratulations to Don!
Bob Lee, 11/09/2011
On
September 10th Donald (aka Carter the Great) will turn 60. I know my
good, dear friend would appreciate any and all wishes from the class of
'67. Once again, however, due to lack of interest, I was unable to
organize a fitting party for Donald. I know that all of us wish Donald a
speedy recuperation from his shoulder surgery. (Rumor has it that it was
self-inflicted damage, caused by throwing his golf clubs in anger.) In closing,
I know that all of us wish Donald the very best and hope that he gets
everything he deserves. Bob Lee, 09/08/2009
As
some of you know, I sometimes kid my good friend, the incorruptible and
generous Bob Lee, about being tight-fisted. This is done in jest as Bob
always thinks of others first. While he is known as “DR. GREED” by all
at Everett Golf and Country Club, it is merely a term of endearment. I
do wish to thank him for generously posting an ad in the Herald on the
day of the event (click thumbnail at left); however I was not surprised
by this display of the obvious affection he has for all of his
classmates. I also note that Bob used his favorite portrait, in a pose
that most all of us who know him well, have seen many times over the
years. I am, as always, truly humbled by the Bob's magnanimous gesture
on the day of our party. I would hope that you will share this email and
the attachment with all of our class, so they will know the high
esteem in which I hold Bob. Regards, DW. Don Carter, 08/07/2009
Surviving Childhood
My Mom used to cut chicken, chop eggs and spread mayo on the same
cutting board, with the same knife and no bleach, but we didn't seem to
get food poisoning.
My Mom used to defrost hamburger on the
counter, AND when she wasn't looking, I used to eat it raw sometimes, too. Our school sandwiches
were wrapped in wax paper, in a brown paper bag, and not in icepack coolers.
I can't remember ever getting e.coli or salmonella.
Almost all of
us would have rather gone swimming in the local lake instead of a pristine
pool (talk about boring). No beach closures then.
The term cell
phone would have conjured up a phone in a jail cell, and a pager was the
school PA system.
We all took gym, not PE, and risked permanent
injury from wearing a pair of high top Keds, which were worn only in gym, instead of having
cross-training athletic shoes with air cushion soles and built -in light
reflectors. I can't recall any injuries, but they must have happened
because they tell us how much safer we are now.
Flunking gym was
not an option... even for stupid kids! I guess PE must be much harder
than gym.
Speaking of school, we all said prayers and sang the
national anthem, and staying in detention after school caught all sorts
of negative attention.
We must have had horribly damaged psyches.
What an archaic health system we had then. Remember school nurses? Ours
wore a hat and a uniform.
I thought I was supposed to accomplish
something before I was allowed to be proud of myself, and you only got a
trophy if you won, not just show up.
I just
can't recall how bored we were without computers, Play Station,
Nintendo, X-box and 270 digital TV cable stations.
Oh yeah... and
where was the Benadryl and sterilization kit when I got that bee sting?
I could have been killed!
We played 'king of the hill' on piles
of gravel left on vacant construction sites, and when we got hurt, Mom
pulled out the 48-cent bottle of Mercurochrome (kids liked it better
because it didn't sting like iodine did) and then we got our butts
spanked for being stupid.
Now it's a trip to the emergency room, followed by a
10-days of doses from a $99 bottle of antibiotics, and then Mom calls
the attorney to sue the contractor for leaving a horribly vicious pile
of gravel where it was such a threat.
We didn't act up at the
neighbor's house either because if we did, we got our butts spanked
there, and then we got butt-spanked again when we got home.
I
recall Donny Reynolds from next door coming over and doing his tricks on
the front stoop, just before he fell off. Little did his Mom know that
she could have owned our house. Instead, she picked him up and swatted
him for being such a goof. It was a neighborhood run amuck.
To
top it off, not a single person I knew had ever been told that they were
from a dysfunctional family. How could we possibly have known that?
