The Class of 1961's 55th Reunion
August 19th Friday Night Mixer
DoubleTree on the Elements Restaurant Patio
50 N 2nd St Newark, OH 43055 740 322-6455
August 20th Saturday Morning Brunch/Lunch
We have one of the rooms reserved just beyond the front entry.
$8.50 for Seniors
|Stacy's Homestyle Buffet
833 S 30th St Heath, OH 43056 740 522-3317
August 20th Saturday
$30.00 per person
7:00 pm 7:30 pm Registration - Name Tags
Cake and Coffee sometime after 9:00 pm
August 21st Sunday Afternoon
Picnic gathering; everyone will furnish their own soft drinks, water or food. Sorry no alcoholic beverage allowed.
Newark Moose Lodge
235 W National Dr Newark, OH 43055
Hear those great Fifties tunes for your listening and dancing enjoyment! Singing along is OK as long as you are not singing in my ear!
Nobody cares if you can't dance well. Just get up and dance. Dance like
nobody's watching. (That's what I do) Life may not be the
party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance.
It's funny how dance crazes come and go. Some it seems, like swing and
jive, will never really go out of style. During the 50s, there were several
dances that were "it" at the school prom, the high school homecoming dance,
and anywhere a band could play a tune. So, now's the time to kick back the
rug, remember some of those old dances and how to do them with us. Put on a
record on the 45 rpm record player and have a sock hop! Don't forget the Gym
Jams (Sp?) and the dances at the Church!
Can you still do The Bop, The Stroll, The Jitterbug, The Swing, The Hand Jive, The Madison or The Cha Cha?
Rock and Roll and wear your Poodle Skirts!
|Cost: $30.00 per Person Saturday Night||Attire: Nerk Casual or Nick Copas Debonair! lol|
The Thank You List! Are you on it yet? No then contact Me now!
|Gene Henry||Lynn Miller|
|Dottie Hufford||Jim Waters|
|Bill Snyder||Howdy McLean|
Some of the songs we will be listening and dancing to at our next reunion:
Quarter To Three
One Summer Night
Tears On My Pillow
The 10 Commandments Of Love
Since I Don't Have You
I Only Have Eyes For You
My True Story
Please Mr. Postman
There's A Moon Out Tonight
Mother In Law
Will You Love Me Tomorrow
Here Comes Summer
Stuck on You
Have To Go
It's Now or Never
Heartaches By The Number
This Is Swear Is True
Once In A While (This is a Ladies Choice)
You Belong To Me
Those Oldies But Goodies (Remind Me Of You)
The Last Dance For Me
Only The Lonely (Know How I Feel)
Theme From "A Summer Place" - (Instrumental)
Walk, Don't Run - (Instrumental)
Rosie and the Originals - Angel Baby
740 322-6455 DoubleTree by Hilton
740-788-1200 Cherry Valley Lodge, Newark
800 377-6229 Hanover House, Newark
740-788-8991 Hampton Inn Heath
740-522-6112 Econo Lodge Heath
740-928-1800 AmeriHost Inn Heath/Hebron
740-587-0001 Buxton Inn, Granville
740 587-3333 Granville Inn, Granville
740-587-1995 The Porch House, Granville
740 587-0941 The Follett-Wright House, Granville
740-924-6161 Willow Brooke Bed and Breakfast
4459 Morse Road Alexandria, Ohio 43001
(3 ½ miles from Granville)
There my classmates were in the flesh and it didn't matter any more who drove the big car and who had the big house or who had gathered titles or didn't; there was just this incredible love chattering back and forth and hit ratatattatted around you like a boxer hitting a speed bag. Nobody gave a damn about much except they were glad they and you survived and we got to see one another again. We swapped memories and pulled out Pics of grandchildren............ More
10. You may never see these people again.
9. You might drop weight just thinking about the visit.
8. You don't want to miss the chance to dance all night? if you dance!
7. You can gloat how much better you look than you did in 1961.
6. You want to see what the Court House looks like again.
5. You want to see if the L&K is still there.
4. You are curious to see what color your best friend's hair is (if any).
3. You can't wait to see if people remember you.
2. You want a chance to reminisce and hear the oldies.
1. You want everyone to know you aren't dead yet!
THE CLASS REUNION
Thanks to Sandy Rine for the Pictures
Thanks to Gene Henry
Every ten years, as summertime nears,
An announcement arrives in the mail,
A reunion is planned; it'll be really grand;
Make plans to attend without fail.
I'll never forget the first time we met;
We tried so hard to impress.
We drove fancy cars, smoked big cigars,
And wore our most elegant dress.
It was quite an affair; the whole class was there.
It was held at a fancy hotel.
We wined, and we dined, and we acted refined,
And everyone thought it was swell.
The men all conversed about who had been first
To achieve great fortune and fame.
Meanwhile, their spouses described their fine houses
And how beautiful their children became.
The homecoming queen, who once had been lean,
Now weighed in at one-ninety-six.
The jocks who were there had all lost their hair,
And the cheerleaders could no longer do kicks.
No one had heard about the class nerd
Who'd guided a spacecraft to the moon;
Or poor little Jane, who's always been plain;
She married a shipping tycoon.
The boy we'd decreed "most apt to succeed"
Was serving ten years in the pen,
While the one voted "least" now was a priest;
Just shows you can be wrong now and then.
They awarded a prize to one of the guys
Who seemed to have aged the least.
Another was given to the grad who had driven
The farthest to attend the feast.
They took a class picture, a curious mixture
Of beehives, crew cuts and wide ties.
Tall, short, or skinny, the style was the mini;
You never saw so many thighs.
At our next get-together, no one cared whether
They impressed their classmates or not.
The mood was informal, a whole lot more normal;
By this time we'd all gone to pot.
It was held out-of-doors, at the lake shores;
We ate hamburgers, coleslaw, and beans.
Then most of us lay around in the shade,
In our comfortable T-shirts and jeans.
By the fortieth year, it was abundantly clear,
We were definitely over the hill.
Those who weren't dead had to crawl out of bed,
And be home in time for their pill.
And now I can't wait; they've set the date;
Our fiftieth is coming, I'm told.
It should be a ball, they've rented a hall
At the Shady Rest Home for the old.
Repairs have been made on my hearing aid;
My pacemaker's been turned up on high.
My wheelchair is oiled, and my teeth have been boiled;
And I've bought a new wig and glass eye.
I'm feeling quite hearty, and I'm ready to party
I'm gonna dance 'til dawn's early light.
It'll be lots of fun; But I just hope that there's one
Other person who can make it that night.
I had prepared for it like any intelligent woman would.
I went on a starvation diet the day before, knowing that all the extra weight would just melt off in 24 hours, leaving me with my sleek, trim, high-school-girl body. The last many years of careful cellulite collection would just be gone with a snap of a finger. I knew if I didn't eat a morsel on Friday, that I could probably fit into my senior formal on Saturday. Trotting up to the attic, I pulled the gown out of the garment bag, carried it lovingly downstairs, ran my hand over the fabric, and hung it on the door. I stripped naked, looked in the mirror, sighed, and thought, "Well, okay, maybe if I shift it all to the back..." bodies never have pockets where you need them. Bravely, I took the gown off the hanger,
Unzipped the shimmering dress and stepped gingerly into it. I struggled, twisted, turned, and pulled and I got the formal all the way up to my knees...before the zipper gave out. I was disappointed. I wanted to wear that dress with those silver platform sandals again and dance the night away. Okay, one setback was not going to the mood for this affair. No way! Rolling the dress into a ball and tossing it into the corner,
I turned to Plan B: the black velvet caftan. I gathered up all the goodies that I had purchased at the drugstore, the scented shower gel; the body building and highlighting shampoo, conditioner, the split-end killer and shine enhancer. Soon my hair would look like that girl's in the Pantene ads. Then the makeup -- the under eye "ain't no lines here" firming cream, the all-day face-lifting gravity-fighting moisturizer with wrinkle filler spackle; the all day "kiss me till my lips bleed and see if this gloss will come off" lipstick, the bronzing face powder for that special glow...
But first, the roll-on facial hair remover. I could feel the wrinkles shuddering in fear. OK - time to get ready... I jumped into the steaming shower, soaped, lathered, rinsed, shaved, tweezed, buffed, scrubbed, and scoured my body to a tingling pink. I plastered my freshly scrubbed face with the anti- wrinkle, gravity fighting, "your face will look like a baby's butt" face cream. I set my hair on the hot rollers.
I felt wonderful. Ready to take on the world. Or in this instance, my underwear. With the towel firmly wrapped around my glistening body, I pulled out the black lace, tummy-tucking, cellulite-pushing, ham hock-rounding girdle, and the matchin "lifting those bosoms like they're filled with helium" bra. I greased my body with the scented body lotion and began the plunge. I pulled, stretched, tugged, hiked, folded, tucked, twisted, shimmied, hopped, pushed, wiggled, snapped, shook, caterpillar crawled, and kicked. Sweat poured off my forehead but I was done.
And it didn't look bad. So I rested. A well deserved rest, too. The girdle was on my body. Bounce a quarter off my behind? It was tighter than a trampoline. Can you say, "Rubber baby buggy bumper butt?" Okay, so I had to take baby steps, and walk sideways, and I couldn't move from my butt cheeks to my knees. But, I was firm!
Oh no...I had to go to the bathroom. And there wasn't a snap crotch!! From now on, undies gotta have a snap crotch. I was ready to rip it open and re-stitch the crotch with Velcro, but the pain factor from past experiments was still fresh in my mind. I quickly side stepped to the bathroom. An hour later, I had answered nature's call and repeated the struggle into the girdle.
I was ready for the bra and remembered what the saleslady said to do. I could see her glossed lips mouthing, "Do not fasten the bra in the front, and twist it around. Put the bra on the way it should be worn-- straps over the shoulders.
Then bend over and gently place both breasts inside the cups." Easy if you have four hands!! But, with confidence, I put my arms into the holsters, bent over and pulled the bra down...but the boobs weren't cooperating. I'd no sooner tuck one in a cup, and while placing the other, the first would slip out. I needed a strategy. I bounced up and down a few times, tried to dribble them in with short bunny hops, but that didn't work. So, while bent over, I began rocking gently back and forth on my heel and toes and I set 'em to swinging. Finally, on the fourth swing, pause, and lift, I captured the gliding glands. Quickly fastening the back of the bra, I stood up for examination. Back straight, slightly arched, I turned and faced the mirror, turning front, and then sideways. I smiled,
"Yes, Houston, we have lift up!" My breasts were high, firm and there was cleavage! I was happy until I tried to look down. I had a chin rest and I couldn't see my feet. I still had to put on my pantyhose, and shoes.
Oh...why did I buy heels with buckles? Then I had to pee again.
I put on my sweats, fixed myself a drink, ordered pizza, and skipped the reunion. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
IF THIS DID NOT GIVE YOU A GOOD LAUGH YOU'RE TOO YOUNG AND TOO SKINNY!!!!!!!
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