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2021 1019 niceness

A few days ago I went to a multi-year high school reunion of my fellow Glendale High School alumni. We were almost all in our late 60s and early 70s. Compared to our high school selves, we were almost to a person saggy and baggy and crepey and creaky and greyish and bulky, but not sulky, rather cheerful, glad to be vertical, glad to see friends. I came away with a good feeling, a nice feeling, and somehow the lens of that evening obscurely guided my pencil and my wordstacker.

niceness

now we hoist a cup or stein
in a toast to life divine
cherishing our kin and friends
effervescence never ends

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The Portraiture Practice continues. Meanwhile, my Glendale High School classmate Vicki has commissioned a $5, 5-minute portrait, which I’m guessing will be a present for her devoted husband Ric. She says “no rush” so I’ll get a lot more practice in before I do hers!

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Many years ago, in Mr. Richmond’s Senior English class at Glendale High School, I wrote an essay in which I admitted knowing almost nothing about the subject. Milnor Richmond, in his profound wisdom, circled the admission in red and wrote “Don’t admit it.” I have never forgotten that…

…but I haven’t always taken his advice, literally, literarily, or figuratively. About this page I wish to admit that it has serious flaws. It doesn’t say all that much; what it has to say is confusing; and the face that is supposed to represent Rage doesn’t: it just looks like a guy about to sneeze.

All that said, I don’t think the page is a waste of time to look at. As another wise teacher, Darlene Goto, former Drawing & Composition instructor at Glendale Community College, would often say to a student, “It has possibilities.” I am creatively arrogant enough to say that if I ever take a decent amount of time to realize the page’s possibilities, I’ll have a text/image for the ages. (Now I hear Mr. Richmond’s gravelly voice saying, “Don’t declaim it.”)

Hear are the words to the two acrostics:

Cold fury’s touch will sear
A blast of HATE is near–a
Lunatic–don’t beg
Methinks Fate will renege

Thoughtful speculators dream
Essays to assay a meme
Many wingbeats tax a swan
Pray consult a clairvoyant [French pronunciation, not American]
End with panicked dash, mach schnell–a
Runaround leaves us unwell

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I was graduated from Glendale High School deep in a previous century, but I still remember the fight song (“Fight on, Cards, for dear old Glendale/We know you will not fail/Show [other team] what we’re here for/And make them sad and sore…” On reflection, a bit mean-spirited, eh?). I only remember the first two lines of the Alma Mater, which smacked suspiciously of “O Little Town of Bethlehem”: “All praise to thee, O Glendale High/To you our voices raise…”

About three and a half weeks ago I had a blog entry featuring a quick sketch of me and some of my classmates. It went over well, especially with my classmates, one of whom encouraged me to do more; so this is more.

Last time I identified everyone, This time we’ll see who knows who, although I did identify one of us…

Here are the words to the triple acrostic:

Good Gosh, I had great fun indeed
Lost time regained & guaranteed–a
Eucharist gives one stray soul
Not blandishments but odd parole

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Go to a 40-Plus Year Class Reunion and you are bound to feel older than dirt–but you might also feel as young as Freshman Year. In a rushed day involving hundreds of miles of travel via auto, and a haircut, and a last roundup of ceramic and other art objects from the house I no longer live in, and a lunch with my mother and my girlfriend, and a book discussion with my daughter, I found myself at the 11th hour sketching the above frantically, trying to beat the midnight deadline. The quality of drawing often suffers when the artist does not take the proper time.

Dashed doggerel reads

40 yrs
Smiles & tears
Hope & Strive–
We’re ALIVE!

It was marvelous seeing so many of my classmates. I wish I’d done them more justice, but it’s a consequence of daily posting that artistic justice is not always served.

At Glendale High School, in Glendale, Arizona, the band of choice for the Friday dance was The Factory, Their drum kit was painted psychedelicately, and looked great under black light. Their cover of “You Keep Me Hangin’ On” (Vanilla Fudge style, not Supremes style) was, no lie, EPIC.

And it still is, more than forty years later! Listening to them at the Glendale 100-year reunion, in December of 2011, was like a trip in the Way-Back Machine.

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