Alumni Banquet & Pumpkin's 50th

This week I'm honestly at a loss for a subject so I guess I shall blather on incessantly about my sister's (Pumpkin) visit to town in honor of her high school reunion. This was the big one, so to speak, as it was the 50th anniversary of the graduation. Unfortunately, I acted as her date for the entire weekend—I mean I happily attended all festivities with my loving sister. (Actually the second night was for all CLHS graduates from back when there was a CLHS, which means Conneaut Lake High School, as I'm sure you realize. I'm hoping this might serve as a digression. Does it?)

Allow me to back it up a few steps and say that I was thoroughly confused about the woman's arrival date. For some reason I had it in my mind that she was coming this weekend (by the time this is printed it will mean “the weekend we just had.”) I was floored when I perused facebook only to find that others in her class were discussing how they would see each other later that night.

Mind you, I was plunked down on my porch carrying out some video making festivities for my new You Tube channel and was not prepared for her to arrive. (Just search my name on You Tube and subscribe.)

It all worked out in the wash, as the saying goes, as I had plenty of time to bathe and dress for the gathering at Walt's Tavern on night one of the shindig. I ended up visiting for a large portion of the time with Marge and Don Weyel, which is always rather enlightening. I mainly stuck with Marge as Don sometimes isn't in the mood for a visit, if you catch my vibes.

There was a lot of hugging and stuff like that going on as is the course of action for such happenings. Also I noted quite a bit of faking it in terms of people really not knowing the person with whom they were speaking. The famous, “Hi, do you remember me?” followed by the obligatory, “Of course I do,” was heard throughout the region. Directly after that scenario I would hear Person X turn to Person Y and say, “I have no $#%^& clue who that was, do you?”

By night number two things were going well because they had name tags. We must utilize tags O name for such gatherings due to the senility factor involved. I mean honestly, those people who graduated were almost 70 years of age, for crying in a bucket.

There was a mistake on the wall of death, as I call it, which is rather rude now that I ponder and might possibly lead to massive pearl clutching throughout the reading area. I'm trying to say that they made an error on the display of classmates who had passed away. They listed a person as dead when he is totally living. (This was corrected by the second night due to my riding to the rescue. Yes, light applause and please throw money.) It is a depressing subject so please take into consideration that I'm trying to lighten up the mood in this paragraph. I do NOT need some official letter being sent to me via certified mail about how I've somehow offended the families of the dead. Whew!

Moving along, the major complaint that all in attendance had on night number two, was that of heat. Mind you, we were inside of a local club which shall remain nameless for purposes of libel laws. Not really I just don't know how to spell it off hand. I shall give you a clue: it's what I call the 1% Club of Conneaut Lake and my son was employed there for several years prior to flying the coup.

Time is up as I'm certain you have ascertained at what location this happened. Allow me to gently, yet effectively, say that when a portion of a banquet room is located on the other side of a sliding glass door leading to the porch, it's a good idea to make certain that said door remains shut for the evening. Clearly it would be opened from time to time to allow the traffic to pass through but that $#%&* door was WIDE open all night, which led to the air-conditioning of the great outdoors, as my father used to say. “Shut that door LISA! I'm not paying for the air conditioning to go outside. I'm NOT air-conditioning the great outdoors,” said he. (I believe I've digressed again.)

At one point I literally marched over to the door and whipped it shut. Whilst doing so, I gave those standing nearby a slight lecture to NO avail.

As if on cue, I had a wardrobe malfunction 20 minutes into the party when my shoe broke. I was all gussied up including being wedged into some hot pink heel type things on my feet when BOOM the one broke.

Johnny Oswald, husband of my dear, sweet friend Patty McMaster Oswald, was kind enough to attempt the fix but it didn't work. That old saying about “you can dress her up but you cannot take her out,” was in play.

Mother came to the rescue after I borrowed Tammy Cowden's phone to call her and request a new pair of shoes. She delivered them to the club and the night moved forward. Zeus bless that old gal.

Moving back to the insane heat encompassing that room, imagine anything that could be fashioned into makeshift fans moving violently over each table. We seized items ranging from reunion programs to dinner roll baskets in order to generate some air movement. I mean if the waiter were a touch thinner, he would have been somehow waved madly through the air in order to cause a breeze. I've never witnessed such clever behavior in terms of turning ANYTHING into a fanning device.

I do not do well with heat inside of a building nor did others who were trapped in that portion of the facility. My sister said that the buzz around town the whole weekend and beyond, (she just left today, Thursday) was that of the oppressive air on that particular night.

The “slight” problem of suffering from heat stroke actually led some compassionate speakers to cut back on their time and saw others adding to theirs—much to our delight. We were held captive ladies and gentlemen. Oh the humanity.

OK I think it's time to casually end this blather for the week. All in all it was a very nice banquet because the food and service made up for the other “matter.”

Sister Jill left a few hours ago, by the way. Oh how could I forget to mention that we went to Greenville last night. This made Mother's night, week, month and possible year as she LIVES for all things Greenville. (For those who have no clue of what I speak, she loves having dinner at what used to be the Greenville Country Club. For the life of me I always forget the new name but it might be the Gallery Grille, I think.)

As long as that woman is happy everything else is secondary. I am officially finished and yes, stop your sighs of relief this instant. Hey, we could have used said sighs during the weekend sauna experience—I just thought of that. Perhaps you could hold off on reading Rants & Raves until you know I'm stranded in a facility lacking air-conditioning? My class reunion is just around the bend.

THE END – (Interstate Crosscheck – AIPAC)