Time Is Like a Clock in My Heart

When I last wrote you about Cara Starnes Huber, I didn’t think I’d get to include a photo of her sons, Garrett and Gavin. But she found an adorable picture that I could not resist showing to the world.

Children change so quickly, especially between the holiday season and, say, Saturday, June 10, the date of our reunion party. You know it will be fun to see everyone alongside their sons and daughters at the picnic that day, trying to spot the same mannerisms that their parents had when we saw them in gym class all those years ago.

You’ll see more pictures of Tiger offspring later this week.

And She Was

My concern is that with all my recent posts about boys and men, you are going to believe that they’re all I think about, all the time. But I’ve actually been thinking about Stephanie Cook quite a bit because she is another person I never saw again after we graduated 20 years ago.

(I hope when you read phrases like, “we graduated 20 years ago,” that it makes you gasp with shock that way I still do every time I type it.)

Stephanie was Miss Slidell High at Saga Ball in 1986. She was a cheerleader, she was in Beta Club and Student Council, and she played flirty Ado Annie in our senior play. She was probably one of the most recognized girls in the entire school for people in every class. When we exchanged wallet-sized copies of our senior portraits, this picture took my breath away: she looked as glamorous as any model or actress I’d seen.

But I didn’t hate her. Honestly, we didn’t follow the script of a high school reunion movie, where I’m supposed to resent the popular beautiful girl and where she is supposed to be so mean that I have a less shallow reason to dislike her. Stephanie was fun! She was hilarious, sometimes even obnoxious, and she was smart! In fact, I remember driving with her and Michelle Thomas to a party at Lynette Folse’s house after a senior-play rehearsal, so she didn’t mind being seen with me at all.

I hope that Stephanie can come to the reunion on June 10. (Do you know where we can find her?) It’s not that I need to see what she’s wearing as much as I want to give her an Oklahoma hello. No, wait: that’d be Joe’s job. I think I’ll just give her a hug.

Puttin' on the Ritz

Some people prefer to see men in tuxedoes, arguing that manliness is never so attractive as when its packaging suggests wealth and success. To that I say, “Gold-digger. What kind of relationship do you want, anyway?”

But I digress. Dennis Parker is another of the “missing,” another guy for whom we have no address, phone number, email address, GPS location, nothing. Where are you, Dennis?

Freeze Frame

What makes me laugh is that I had this photo in my own scrapbook, it’s printed in our senior yearbook, and someone else recently sent me her copy. All three photos have different perspectives, so that means when these guys gathered in one spot--all those biceps and stomachs and legs and sunglasses--at least three people whipped out cameras and starting snapping.

Is it too much to say that the boys of 86 inspired the paparazzi of 86? That so much budding manliness in one place demanded that we capture the moment?

The guys in this picture are Kevin Hollingshead, Matt Pequet, Doug Dicke, Robert King, Tim Dennis, Jake Tedesco, Joe Bihlmeyer, and Ty Smith. We have addresses for all but two of them, Ty and Robert.

Robert, Ty: where are you? We want to recreate this magical moment, this harvest of testosterone, on June 10 in Slidell. Please don’t break my heart just because you can.

The Tide Is High

Is there any point in writing text to accompany this cutie? I’m not going to tell you who his mother is because if her son wants to pursue a career in politics later, I don’t think a published nude photograph should surface in connection with his esteemed name. But I’ll give you some hints: she’s active in planning the reunion, she encouraged me in my pursuit of Cute Boy, and I nicknamed her Basic Woman, or BW, after we saw Klymaxx perform at Grad Night.

Word Up: Tell Me, What’s the Word?

Cafetorium. My husband laughed when I told him, “That’s what it was called!” as we were lying in bed the other night.

The cafetorium is where I first saw Cute Boy during a Mardi Gras dance. (He’s pictured here later in the year with Matt Pequet, who was apparently telling him a funny secret.) I don’t remember anyone being in costume; maybe it was only the February date that made it a Mardi Gras dance.

The cafetorium is also where we had the Keywanette and Key Club interclub meeting for which I asked a local taekwondo organization to provide a demonstration because Cute Boy had a black belt in taekwondo. Today is the first time I’ve reflected that it was warped to essentially manipulate a gathering of several dozen people and a group of martial arts practitioners just for more time in the same room with Cute Boy. So let’s not look at it that way.

Many of my crushes started in the cafetorium, particularly when I was rehearsing plays for the drama club (Actors Anonymous). Before Cute Boy, there was Tall Guy Who Portrayed My Character’s Brother and also Yearbook Editor With a Talent for Mimicking Voices. One of my most cherished photographs came from a play “after party” at Mr Gatti’s, where Yearbook Editor and I posed in full makeup and costumes: he with his arms crossed, I standing slightly behind him with my hands folded on his shoulder. (Well, of course he was shorter than I. But so talented!)

My drama club efforts did not make me a better actress for Oklahoma, but I probably didn’t concentrate enough on my role. The cafetorium stage was the site of a lot of flashing and not because of costume changes. Why do you think we nicknamed Tim Dennis “Feel ’em Elam?”

Did you always just accept that the room was called the cafetorium without giggling about it? Do you regret that we won’t be having our reunion dance in the cafetorium? A lot of the memories there have nothing to do with grill marks on hamburgers.

You've Got to Know When To Hold 'Em

The dance need not be a fancy one to pull out the matching outfits. Another photograph provided by Laura Newton shows Trina Foster Balanoff and a guy whose name might be Cliff. (The filename was TrinaCliff.jpg, so there's my brilliant deduction for you.)

Trina lives way the heck off in Idaho now, but she's kept in touch with the reunion committee. Even though she didn't graduate with us in Slidell, we're not being picky about such things when it comes to planning the party. After all, she was part of our school lives from kindergarten through half our senior year: she has full knowledge of what it means to be a Tiger. And the thought of reuniting with the Tigers of 86 doesn't seem to scare her at all.

But How Were Their Dance Moves?

Have you ever seen a more carefully coordinated formal-wear pairing? His tie and cummerbund, her sash, the flowers: pink. Everything else: the white of teenage innocence. Laura Newton sent me this photo of Kelly Salter at Saga Ball, but she didn’t include the name of her date. I suspect that he is the guy who became her husband, Ray Ybos (a musician in the band Witness), but if it isn't him, we don’t need to know who it is. Ancient history, dude.

We now have a team of about 16 people searching for such historical figures: you, your friends, your crushes, your rivals for first chair in band, the people who sat next to you in algebra, the person with whom you carried an egg for however many days to recognize how awful it’d be to get pregnant, the person you asked to Military Ball, the person who stepped on your new shoes when you wore them to a football game, the person who taught you how to bounce a quarter, the person who gave you a ride home from practice, the people you spotted at the movie theater on Tuesday nights, the people by their cars in the parking lot behind McDonald’s, the people who had the one thing (a date? talent? popularity?) that you thought would make you a happier teenager but that alluded you every year.

Well, there are several detectives trying to find them all, but honestly, it’s a tough task. On our own, we might not find addresses for more than half of our class. Fifty percent? That cannot stand. You might know for a fact that someone has no interest in attending the June 10 reunion, that he or she hated high school, that he or she still spits just hearing a few bars of “Eye of the Tiger”--but I still want to mail an invitation to that person. Call me a masochist, but call me, dammit. Or at least send me an email.

Steve Cuts His Hair

You will be pleased to know that Steve does not live only in the past. As much as he loved his constituents, he did move on and meet Kelly and have three gorgeous children. (Honestly, look at those eyes.) Steve caught me up via email, a generous gesture since I had 20 years of news to learn:

Well, here is my story. I think the last time I saw you, Mark Shaw, and Annmarie was back in the college years. You were all at NLU and Alan, Greg Morgan, Shannon Mooney, and I were at Louisiana Tech in Ruston. I was there until junior year, and then my father (Joe) was transferred back to Pennsylvania (northeastern PA near Wilkes-Barre) while he was working for Dupont. At the time, my grades were going down the tubes from the wonderful fraternity life of Pi Kappa Alpha. (Brothers for life? Where are those guys now anyway?) I moved with my parents/family and transferred schools and graduated at a small Division III school, Wilkes University, with a BS in business administration. I went back to Wilkes a few years later for my MBA. I met my wife, Kelly, in Wilkes-Barre, which was really funny considering she was born and raised in New Orleans and graduated from LSU. After graduate school, I was having a difficult time landing a job, so my wife and I about 12 years ago decided to pack up with basically no money and no jobs and move to the Raleigh, NC. At the time, the Raleigh area was listed in Money magazine as the #1 place to live. So we, along with everyone else from PA, NJ, and NY, flocked down South for fame and fortune. We have been here ever since.

We live in Apex, NC, which is southwest of Raleigh. Kelly and I have 3 children (Becky, 9; Joshua, 6 [blue shirt]; and Thomas, 5). I am a portfolio manager within the Asset Management Division of Wachovia Mortgage Corporation. I manage a team that specializes in loss management, financial analysis, accounting, reporting, and claims. I have been with Wachovia National Bank (formerly First Union) for over 10 years now.

My brother Mike (class of '85), is a dentist in Bethlehem, PA, with his wife, Janet, and 2 children (Ryan, 8, and Matthew, 3). It is ironic that Mike became a dentist considering back when we were growing up he liked to clean his teeth with Gummi worms and Swedish fish.

My sister, Lori, lives with her husband, David, and 3 children (Chris, 10; Will, 8; and Katie, 5) in northeastern PA (Dallas, PA). My mom (Beverly) lives around the corner from them in Shavertown, PA.

Three years ago, I lost my father, Joe, to cancer. In many ways, my family has not really recovered from this. I myself was in a state of serious depression for the two years afterward. It was a big loss to the family. He was the "glue" of the family that kept everything together. Although he is never forgotten, I felt that within the past year that I am slowly getting back to my old self.

Lately, I have thought a lot about those high school days at Slidell High, especially in light of the devastation from Hurricane Katrina to the Slidell and New Orleans region. It was really nice seeing all of those pictures. I had a good laugh over the Mark Shaw and Laura Spreafico Saga Ball picture. I think I have that same picture up in the attic somewhere. It is funny, I still have our "Puttin' on the Ritz" SHS senior prom glass on my office desk at home, along with a Key Club glass and a 1st place Division C glass trophy that Mark Shaw and I won in a Slidell Tennis Tournament. I also have a SHS Tiger pennant hanging in my boy's bedroom.

Reflections of a Leader, by Stephen D. Parsons

Steve Parsons, pictured here in modern times with his wife, Kelly, was president of the Student Council when we were seniors, in ancient times. He spent a lot of time with his constituents, and like any good politician, he remembers each and every one--especially the hot-looking ones. He was generous in providing written memories of his years in public life, so the rest of this post is in Steve's voice alone:

As I woke up in the morning of the first day of my senior year, the following thoughts were running through my head:

I hope my hair blow dryer doesn’t overheat and explode. (My big-hair 80s look has to really rock this year.)

Will Kris Belyus be wearing her blue jean short-short mini skirt?

How many times will Joe Bihlmeyer say the word “awesome?”

How many times will Mark “Alfie” Shaw say the phrase “Hola, dude?”

How many times will the teachers say, “Please, take out a clean sheet of paper for a pop quiz?” (Darn it, I should have bought the Cliffs Notes.)

How many times will Emma, the cafeteria lady, say the phrase, “Hey, boys, you get one or the other. You get one or the other?” (Thank goodness she was only referring to the dessert choice between the cherry cobbler and the peaches. Speaking of cafeteria food, did you ever wonder what those black grill lines were on our hamburgers? We didn’t even have a flame grill at school. Was that magic marker I tasted?)

Even though the temperature is 90 degrees outside, will Alan Teague still be wearing his Members Only jacket?

Will Teri Barrett and Tara Farris still laugh at my corny jokes this year? “You’re so funny, Stephen!” (I don’t know if they were laughing with me or just at me. If I had to guess, it basically was laughing at me.)

What the heck is a “Weepul” anyway? Whose stupid idea was that? (Oh yeah, that was mine. Sorry, everybody. It seemed like a good idea at the time.)

Is Maria Goodson still in Greece… again?

Hey, since my buddy Greg Morgan’s picture appeared in Teen magazine over the summer, what impact will that have in improving my social life with the Swingerettes? (Answer: absolutely none!)

Why did Miss Jean Chretien pick the same knit shirts for the tennis team that the Swingerettes wore? My guess is that there must have been a Blue Light Special at the Slidell Kmart. My second thought about the shirts was: I wonder if anyone at school will notice. (Answer: yes, they did. I vividly remember the screeching voice of Tim Dennis yelling behind me, “Hey, Parsons, what’s up with those shirts. Man, that sucks!”)

Is Bill Herbert going to throw another Big Blowout Party? (The only thing I remember about Bill’s party is that Tommy Cason, Shannon Mooney, Greg Morgan, and I got there early before the party officially started and drank all of his beer. Hey, at least we had fun. Hey Bill, kick up that Violent Femmes song, “Why can’t I get just one…”)

Will Brett Haaga jump around and dance like Pee Wee Herman this year? (Answer: you bet your tequila he will!)

Will stern-faced math teacher Mrs. Seale ever crack a smile? (Answer: definitely not!)

I wonder what our Senior Play is going to be. Man, I hope it’s not Oklahoma. I want to be a knife wielding Jet from West Side Story. (Oh well, I guess the corn truly is as high as an elephant’s eye.)

What kind of name is “Zeke” anyway?

Is this the year that Chris Bell actually takes off his “Top Gun” shades?

Will Karen Daniels actually make eye contact with me and call me by my first name? (I think she once looked at me and said, “Hi, Stan.” Hey, that’s close enough; “Hi” right back at you, Karen.)

How many times will Mr. Trygg lick the chalkboard and scream out, “Here come the Lunch People?” (Hey, didn’t I last see him stumbling out of Diego’s during “Drinkin’ with Lincoln?”)

Is this the year that Charles Holmes will finally grow a full beard?

Will I need a French interpreter to tell me what in the world Marty Bech is talking about?

How many times will Michelle Thomas call me “C-Stud?” (I’m afraid to ask what the C actually stood for.)

Hey, I think I will try out a new nickname for Abby Lindsay this year, “Abbster.” (Maybe I should have gone with “The Abbinator.”)

Tiger Genes: Indefatigable

It took no time at all for people to identify Michelle Tonkel McDuffie's daughter, Alaina. It took even less time to recognize Camille and Tucker Riddle. Take another look at those pictures. I am so lucky to get stuff like this in my email inbox along with special financial opportunities from Nigeria.

Two close personal friends of Alaina McDuffie are Clayton and Kristen Keeler, the children of Wendy Holmes Keeler. She reported, "Clayton is going to be 10 shortly and Kristen (the polar opposite of Clayton and myself) is going to be 5 soon. Luckily the kids get along great, although Clayton often looks at her a little odd." Wendy treated me kindly when I didn't realize that their seat in the photograph is a sculpture of a manatee.

I'm keeping my fingers crossed that Wendy will attend the reunion on June 10 because I want to ask her to describe exactly how Kristen is the opposite of her. Did you know that it's only 117 days away? That's a long time for a five-year-old but not for you.

Goes Without Saying: Pretty in Pink

Cara Starnes Huber is one of our classmates who was still living in Slidell when Hurricane Katrina hit. Like many others, she and her family have been fixing their home, making slow progress, as they carry on their daily lives in another location, in their case, Jackson, Mississippi. During our email correspondence, I asked when she; her husband, Tim; and their sons, Garrett and Gavin, would return to their home.

Our house will probably be fixed in the March/April time frame. However, Entergy [where Cara works] won’t be going home that quickly. We will probably have to stay here in Jackson until the May/June time frame--that is, if we return to Louisiana. That’s still undecided as far as I know.

I saw Teri [Barrett Sharpe] at the pediatrician’s office on Monday! We have to come to Slidell for all of our appointments because I didn’t want to switch in the event that we do go back.

Tim works for UPS and since his location flooded, they’re letting him work here. However, he’ll have to go back eventually, and for now, at least we’re all together. Most of my coworkers are separated from their families and that’s so difficult. We’re blessed that we’re all together.

I don’t have any family photos with me. They’re boxed up in a pod somewhere. In fact, we haven’t taken a family portrait in a while and we’re due for one! We don’t have any pictures as a family with Gavin. That’s another thing for my ‘to do’ list!

Yeah, it’s just like me to ask people displaced by the storm to send me family pictures for the blog. Cara didn't seem to hold it against me, though: she forwarded my email to Tommy Griffith, who gave me information for Doug Dicke and Zeke Riddle. The web is reaching out for you, too, so make it easy for us to find you.

You Can Win! Find Out How!

People are sending me more photographs, so I shall post more frequently, even if I cannot think of the cleverest stories to accompany them. I am telling you the truth that if you are the first to guess just one of the classmates who belong to these children, I will give you a prize when I see you at the reunion in June. I will pack that damn prize in my suitcase in Chicago, put it on a plane, take it to the reunion party, and give it to you. Serious. The clues follow:

The child in the big shoes belongs to a female classmate.

The two children come from a male classmate, not directly, but you know.

Both parents have already appeared in photos on this blog but not together.

The papa of the two swimmers swears that his kids look so much like him, they could be nicknamed Mini Me 1 and Mini Me 2.

The mama declares that her daughter has more of a social life than her parents do.

Email me your guesses, krisfrom86@yahoo.com.

So Kids Today Pick on Us

I don’t care what people say now about 80s fashion: I love this dress. I think Lisa Silessi looked beautiful on prom night, and Chip Thirstrup, from the class of 87, was lucky to be by her side.

If you've only recently started visiting the blog, be aware that I've been posting old photographs since last summer. You can access the old entries by clicking the months in the menu on the right. A certain Kentucky physician complained to me about not seeing his own face here, but he must not have happened upon his double-date photo from Saga Ball 1986.