Tony Smith

                                              The Maypole at Edgewood Elementary School--1968

Tony Smith died this week. 

I didn't know him nearly as well as his younger brother, my good friend Greg Smith.

But even though I didn't have the individual memories of his classmates (like my sister), I felt the loss for my friend Greg, and for the family, which was engrained in the 1960"s Anderson / Edgewood life I grew up in.

I have so many friends from wonderful, large families, like the Smith's, the Kiely's, the Weis's, the Wulf's, and the Gibson's (I married one), to name a few.

I feel a kinship to not just my direct friends, but to all of these 1960's families,

which shaped the lives of myself, my friends, and the culture of my hometown.

I feel the loss, and send out a hug to all who have lost, but am thankful for all the friends, family, and local community that helped shape who I am today.

the kiss

the Shoe fits

I've never been a teacher, but I would imagine that there is no greater satisfaction than hearing
that a former student credits that teacher for some success or accomplishment in their adult life.
I'm not sure that this is that story for Dr. Toni Shoemaker, but I enjoyed stumbling into this story this afternoon in Lapel.

Debbie and I were working hard on the year-long remodel of her 120 year old home in Lapel on this beautiful Saturday afternoon, when I heard a car pull up out front. I walked around to see that it was Debbie's younger oldest brother, Steve Gibson and his wife Cheri. Steve has been lovingly restoring a 1966 Corvair Coupe, and they were out for a sunny joyride, when they happened by.

My Dad had Corvairs for most of the late 1960's and most of the 1970's. I learned to drive in a convertible Corvair, so I have a soft spot in my heart for this little Chevy. I especially enjoyed it when Steve took me for a quick ride through the Lapel countryside, and around a few scary turns that I never imagined a Corvair could navigate at 60 MPH. Come to think of it, I didn't even realize Corvairs could get up to 60 MPH.

After we returned from our drive, and my heartbeat returned to a normal pace, the four of us stood in the front yard and talked for some time. At some point, I asked what year Steve graduated from Anderson High School, and he told me it had been 1982. We played the game of guessing names of classmates, and I remembered that Steve had been a gymnast in high school,
as had his two younger brothers, so we talked about some of the Edgewood gymnasts I remembered, like the Poore and Bish brothers, or Mark Howenstine. Steve mentioned a couple others, including a Degitz, who lived across from the "New" Edgewood School, so I asked if he had known Joey Shoemaker, son of Anderson High School teacher, Dr. Toni Shoe.

This is when Steve told me that Toni Shoemaker is the reason that he and his wife Cheri are married today. This made no sense at all to me, so Steve went on to explain how Mrs. Shoe had affected the adult lives of Steve, and even his two younger brothers, Don and Troy.

As the story goes, Mrs. Shoe had decided that her son Joey needed to try out for the gymnastics team at Anderson High School, so Joey grudgingly obliged. His friend Troy Gibson wanted to continue to hang out with Joey, so he went out for gymnastics, as well. Not to be outdone by his little brother, Steve tried out for the team, and younger brother Don eventually followed suit.

I'm told that Joey did not stay involved in gymnastics for very long, but the Gibson boys got hooked, and turned out to be naturals. So much so that the three brothers all became gymnastics coaches in their adult lives, which is where Steve met fellow coach, and future wife, Cheri. Steve no longer coaches, but he is still quite fit and agile, and looks like he can still perform a proper "L-seat", if not an "Iron Cross". Troy and Don are full-time gymnastics coaches, and Don is married to Kim, another gymnastics coach. One of the girls that Don coached over the past few years performed on the 2008 United States Olympic Gymnastics Team, until she badly hurt her leg, just before the Gold Medal Finals.

I have always credited Dr. Toni Shoemaker for nurturing, and inspiring a passion for creative writing, which I enjoy today. If you are still reading this entry, you can thank Dr. Shoe that I didn't put you to sleep.

I don't know that Dr. Shoe had the opportunity to inspire the Gibson boys from the classroom, but she did inadvertently inspire the career choices of at least two Gibson's, and her choices for her son Joe just happened to put Steve on the right path to find his wife.

And as if to bring the story around full circle, Debbie had always wanted to be a teacher, and over the years, as she raised and home-schooled four great kids, although she had managed to get halfway to her Teaching degree, time and opportunity had kept that dream just out of reach.
Three years ago, Steve's wife, Cheri, called Debbie out of the blue, and referred her for an interview for a teaching position at Interactive Academy, which features academic programs for pre-schoolers, as well as, a world-class gymnastics facility.

Debbie has been teaching two year olds and pre-schoolers there for three years now, and is loving every minute of working her true passion. And she would not be there, if not for Cheri,
therefore, you could say that Joe and Toni Shoemaker share an indirect responsibility for Debbie reaching her dream of becoming a teacher of children, and ironically, in an academy that features
a world class gymnastics facility. Coincidence? I think not!

Call it six degrees of separation, coincidence, destiny, or all in a day's work for a great teacher.

Whatever it is, I'll go ahead and thank Dr. Shoe for all the lives she has inspired and affected.

Even if i was just to get "Little Joey" out of the house late that summer......


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things I learned at the root beer stand

Dad and I went to Gene's Root Beer Stand for dinner last night. I thought it was early for them to be serving frosty mugs of old fashioned root beer, but apparently they opened on March 1st, and we were not the only ones aware of it. A week into their season, this iconic Drive-in was packed, and for 15 minutes, we had to idle awkwardly in the parking lot, and jockey for position to claim the next open slot, and the opportunity to hang a tray off our driver-side window.

Once we got parked and served, our perseverance and our appetites were rewarded, and we consumed our fair share of Spanish sauce laden hot dogs, washed down, of course, with their fabulous frosty mugs of Root Beer.

As we sat in Dad's Pontiac Vibe, awaiting our meal, we chatted, and he mentioned Tom T., one of his best friends from his days growing up in Lafayette. I had always been amused that one of my dad's best friends went to Indiana University, as Dad has always been an avid Purdue alumnus.
Knowing that they went to different Lafayette high schools, and different colleges, I realized that I did not know how they had met, and gotten to be so close. So I asked.

As it turns out, they did not meet until they were both in college in 1952, which seemed odd, since they were at opposite Big Ten schools. Dad said that Tom had continued to date his high school sweetheart Ruth Ann after he went off to Indiana, and Dad had begun to date Janie G. while at Purdue.

I had never been aware of Dad dating anyone except Mom, but as he explained, there were periods of time when Mom would not date Dad, so he wasn't going to just sit around.
Not to spoil the story, but Dad did eventually end up with Mom....But I digress.

In 1952, Ruth Ann and Janie wanted to attend a Presidential campaign rally for Dwight Eisenhower at Butler University, and they asked their boyfriends to escort them. Tom and Dad had never met, and were not all that interested in seeing or hearing Ike, but they were interested in seeing and hearing their dates, so they agreed to attend the rally.

It was a little like the Happy Days episode, when Richie volunteers for the "1956 Adlai Stevenson for President" campaign in order to date a cute blonde Stevenson supporter. Howard Cunningham was a supporter of Ike, and not at all amused, but Marion was very supportive. Fonzie even gives his support to Ike.
"I like Ike. My bike even likes Ike".
But enough about Happy Days.....

In 1952, Dad and Tom accompanied their dates to see Ike, and at least one life-long friendship was born from that campaign. They probably fared better than Ike and Nixon.

I asked Dad if he and Tom had both moved to Anderson right out of college, and he further explained that, while Dad had begun working at Delco-Remy (GM, for those outside Anderson, Indiana), Tom had returned to Lafayette to join his father and brother running the family lumberyard. It didn't take long for Tom to realize that the lumberyard was not big enough for all three men, so he called Dad to see if they were hiring in Anderson. They were, and they did, and
Tom eventually progressed up to the position of Plant Manager of several GM plant locations.
I'm guessing that at some point, Tom bought my dad a cold case of Blatz to say thank you.


I'm not sure when Tom and Ruth Ann stopped dating, or if it had anything to do with Ike, but he eventually met his current wife, Mary, in church, and they are wintering in Florida as I type this.
I had never heard of Ruth Ann and Janie before last night at Gene's, and I don't know that this foursome double-dated again, but I am glad for Dad and Tom that the brief intersection of these four lives yielded such strong, life-long friendships.

I am also glad that Gene's was busy enough that Dad had time to tell me this story.
It was almost as good as the root beer and hot dogs....


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Things you learn at the Fish Fry

Grandpa Ora Hornocker....1918


Last Friday evening, Debbie and I went to the Shriner's Fish Fry in Anderson with my Dad.
It was "All-you-can-eat", and the fish portions were huge. They may have
lost money on me. Good thing I didn't team up with brother Kirk.

We were updating Dad on the slow progress we are making on the total
renovation of Debbie's 120 year old house in Lapel, and I mentioned that
I was becoming fairly handy, learning from Debbie and experience.

Debbie commented on how she had learned so much about cars and construction
at her father Larry's elbow, and Dad mentioned that as handy as his dad was,
for whatever reason, he never gained that experience from his dad.

Grandpa Ora was a farmer in Southern Indiana, until he married Grandma Etta,
and they moved to near Lafayette to work on Purdue Farms. Grandpa worked
hard there, but in 1940, while he was in the Lafayette hospital for his third hernia
operation, Grandma decided that he was done with the hard farming life, and she
packed their things and moved them in town to 27th Street.

When Grandpa was released from the hospital, per custom of the day, they summoned
an ambulance to take him home. When the ambulance stopped in front of the house on
27th Street, Grandpa was irritated and confused when the driver told him that his wife
had told him that this was where he lived. I'm not sure how dinner went that evening,
but eventually they bought and moved into the house across the street, and lived there
until after Grandpa died, and Grandma moved in with Aunt Rosemary in 1993.

As Dad told us this story at the Fish Fry, I was amazed at at least two parts of the story.
First, I couldn't believe that Grandma just moved them into town without consulting
with Grandpa. Another dimension in time and relationships, I suppose. I guess it worked
out, as they lived there for another 50 years.

But I was also amazed that I had never heard this story in all my 49 years. What this told
me was that my dad has a plethora of life wisdom and stories that rarely gets tapped into,
but often times it only takes a simple conversation to draw it out.

I remember Grandpa George on my Mom's side, and being aware of his rich life history
of fighting the Nazi's in Germany in World War II (I have the trophy Nazi flag to prove it).
I always imagined that he had a million facinating stories to tell, but unfortunately, his hearing
was awful, and it was very difficult to carry on a conversation with him, so I guess I didn't
try hard enough. I regret that now.

I remember talking to Mom over lunch one day six months before she died, and asking her about her experience of her mom sending her to live with her friend Bernice during the Great Depression. (click there for the link to the story of Toots).
I'm glad I asked Mom about Toots.

I'll have to ask my dad more probing questions about our family past, and his own life
experiences, so I don't miss any more good stories.

I wonder if there are any good stories in your family that you've never heard?

What will you talk about the next time you have dinner with your parents?


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hair day

I got my hair cut today.

I'm a guy, and I'm nearly 49 years old, so it's not really a big deal.
It's not like my hair style changes much, and five or six weeks
between haircuts isn't ever going to give me much time for a
radical new look, unless I change something, and go for a new look, which I did about a year ago. My stylist (my niece Ashley) finally convinced me to give up the out-dated, hard spikey,
and the wet, combed back looks. I finally gave in, and started wearing my "bangs" pushed forward, like the kids are wearing it these days. Or were.

Guys have always had it pretty easy with hair styles. There's only so much we can do, unless we're in a rock band. I guess, I've really only had four definitive hair styles in my lifetime. Well, five, if you count those few months in the late 1980's when I sported the Night Club Manager Mullet.


From birth until about 3rd grade, I wore it high and tight, like a proper 1960's kid.
1969 marked a radical transformation on the American landscape, and Edgewood Elementary School was not spared the movement, as our bangs began to reach our eyebrows.
I blame Peter Tork from the Monkees for this development.

I hit Junior High in the mid 1970's, and of course, that meant long, feathered, middle-parted hair, which just barely covered the back of my 101% polyester flowered Disco shirt.
I think that I wore my hair long through High School and College, and probably didn't go short again until the mid-1980's in Chicago. This would be when I started using gels, paste, and mousse for the wet spiked look, which eventually gave way to the hard and straight Gordon Gekko comb-back. "Greed is good". Turns out the hair style was not.

But I'm much more hip now.

As I brushed my teeth tonight, I had a moment in the mirror when I remembered that I had gotten the haircut, and that I would look different to others tomorrow, and for just a moment, I wondered if anyone at work would notice, and comment on my different look. I know that this is an odd and needy thought for a 49 year old man, but just as the thought passed through my newly coifed head, I dismissed it as a silly and insecure thought. But before I could move on, I flashed on a memory from my youth that had taught me to adapt with my environment, and grow past a childhood insecurity. And it started with a haircut.

I have some fairly distinct memories from Third Grade of getting a haircut, and being very self-conscious about it when I walked into Mrs. Harper's classroom the next day. In fact, I think I even lingered out in the wide, tiled hallway after the morning bell, afraid to enter the classroom, until Mrs. Harper pulled me in. I imagined that every kid was snickering at me as I walked down the aisle to my desk. I'm sure that someone must have said something at some point to trigger this, and I don't remember a specific comment, but I do recall being so embarrassed that morning that I opened the lid to my desk, and closed it on my inserted head, so that no one could see me. I don't remember how that was resolved, but I don't imagine Mable allowed me to spend the entire school day with my head in my desk.

I don't believe I had an extreme reaction to every haircut of my youth. I know that I was always self-conscious about it, but that all changed one Monday morning when I saw Scott Vance calmly stroll into Mrs. Benham's 5th Grade class, clearly sporting a short, new, weekend haircut, and yet, he he didn't seem at all bothered by it. He just brazenly walked right in, and confidently went about his 5th grade business. I remember thinking that he almost had a swagger about him, and a little thing like a haircut was not going to put him off his game. I decided that day that, if Scott Vance could handle a haircut with so much cool, then I could too. At this moment, it sorta reminds me of an old favorite Country song...."If Bubba can dance, I can too..."

The very next time I came to school with a fresh, new bowl cut, I thought of Scott's air of confidence, and I confidently strolled into class, and took my place at my desk, and amazingly, not one kid made fun of me, or even commented on my hair. Maybe they never had, but I imagined they might, and up until that day, I had allowed it to haunt me. But I learned that day to adapt and build my self confidence by watching how a peer handled a similar life situation, and model his positive, confident behavior. It was a life lesson in 5th grade that I clearly have not forgotten.

I just wish Scott Vance had been around in the late 1980's to talk me out of that mullet....



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cordless

Dad reminded me yesterday that Frosty is still out on the front porch.

We had put away all the Christmas decorations the day after Christmas, but I had stubbornly left Frosty out in the brick flower box, hoping that he could experience at least a little snow.
I am no fan of leaving up Christmas lights and decorations after New Year's, let alone, after the 26th. However, I've always thought it was kind of a shame that all the pretty colored lights typically get packed away before any real snow arrives to provide the perfect complimentary backdrop. It's a tricky thing; neighborhood Christmas lights that look beautiful on December 24th, begin to look tacky by the 27th. And even more so on June 27th.

So earlier today, I was more than ready to begin taking down and packing away the displays of Christmas lights and decorations on sale for 50% off at my Menards. As we reach the mid point of January, the lights seem a little sad and needy, flickering above the newly merchandised patio furniture, where the artificial Christmas trees used to be, and a few rogue tree needles remained.

But I did stop to ponder the bright yellow banner I was removing that had touted a
"New Cordless Christmas". This was for our new line of battery operated Christmas decorations. The banner proudly proclaimed, "Turn it on once, and it lasts all season long!"
I had been working under this banner for the past 45 or so days, and something about the concept had been nagging at my sub-conscious, and it didn't really hit me until I was taking the banner down today.

The products were clearly marketed as convenient and easy to use, but with a limited life span; they were only meant to get you through the holidays. Eventually, the batteries would lose power, and the lights would fade, until they were dark and forgotten. Cordless is nice in the short-term, but will not sustain in the long run.

Maybe I'm just old school. I'm truly a sucker for the long green strings of vintage C9 ceramic Italian Christmas lights, like Dad used to hang from our gutters. Red, green, blue, orange, and white. I loved laying in my bed, and glimpsing the blue and green lights through my drawn curtains. They were connected to the wire that plugged into the front porch light switch, which I sometimes got to turn off or on, if I was lucky.

I have to say that there were many times this past December that I felt like I was running on cordless, and not really connected to anything substantial. I was running and working, but my power and spirit were limited, and I felt very disconnected.

By Thanksgiving, I had finished my Manager Training, and though I was working in the Hardware department in the Anderson store, I was really just an extra body, taking up someone else's hours, while I sought my own home store. So I felt very disconnected from our store team.

Debbie and I struggled with the demands of the holiday season, and though we talked on the phone, and saw each other a little, we didn't share quality time, and we felt disconnected.

I was working every Monday and Tuesday night, as well as every other Sunday, so I was missing my Bible study and Sunday church services. I was feeling disconnected from the fellowship of my Men's group, and I was missing the reassuring hugs I get from God at church.

And this was my first Christmas without my Mom, so I was feeling disconnected from her.

Thinking back on my December of disconnection, I know that I did not enjoy running on limited power and spirit. But I also know that I have the choice to change that. I know that soon I will be a part of a new store team. And Debbie and I are making wedding plans, and committing to plan and be intentional about quality time together.
I'm going to do better at not missing my Men's group, and Sunday church. And my faith assures me that my Mom is always with me, so we are never really disconnected.

I will make every effort to reconnect, and stay plugged into the people and the things that truly power my soul and my spirit, and make me a happy person.

I remember thinking under the yellow banner today that I don't really want my Christmas lights and spirit to be limited to the 45 days of the Christmas shopping season, so rather than be cordless, I would rather be connected to a permanent power source that will sustain me all year.

That being said, Frosty is going back into storage this weekend.

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