July 15, 2011

SMN70 Blogging

Below is the SMN70 Blog.  Hopefully this will facilitate communication between us about...what?  Try writing and let's find out.  We have our memories of our time at SMN but lotsa life since then too.  Do you have a memory you want to share?  Perhaps a musing on...well...please consider the audience and the context, but we'd like to leave subject matter up to each member of SMN70 as much as possible.  However, please note, the planning committee reserves the right to edit or delete material it deems inappropriate.  With that said...what say ye?

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Kyle Lawson on July 16, 2011 6:22 AM
SMN...Fall 1967 through Spring 1970...whatever happened during that time seems to have gone on to repeat itself over and over for the last 40+ years.  I guess I kind of got stuck, like when the needle skips on a 45rpm that is scratched...lol.  But, upon further reflection, I recognize my life hasn't been a continual repeat of those years as much as it has been a series of revolutions that are evolutions of awareness.  Nonetheless, still variations on a theme.  What theme?  Hmmm...maybe themes, plural, is more accurate.  Ok, so what themes?  I need to stop here.  I'll write more later, perhaps.  But I want to hear from you...anything...we passed each other in the halls and the classrooms, oh, lol, in the lunchroom...every day, 5 days a week, 9 months out of the year for three years...sometimes we walked together and we talked or maybe screamed as we fought or cried trying to understand each other...or so we thought...I see now first and foremost each of us was trying to understand himself or herself...or maybe we have always understood and we have been trying to accept ourselves?  Whatever you might think or feel (not sure the two words indicate something that much different), I hope I'll hear from you, all of you.  It's been a long time, a long road.  Surely you have something to say?       
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jackLee on July 16, 2011 6:55 AM
Hey Kyle...you dawwwg.  Where you been hidin buddy?  Man, great to hear from ya.  Sounds like you've been doin some wandering...and wondering.  Don't blame ya man.  Those years at SMN knocked my socks off...I think in the back of Ted Foster's car one night at a drive-in movie when we were double dating...lol...hmm...better be careful with that memory...don't need to get deleted first time writing here.  Anyway, nuff said for now.  Just wanted to let you know I'm glad you wrote and that it's great to hear ya again. 
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Bard Archipoeta on July 18, 2011 12:44 PM
A Yearbook Paean

S-M-N seven-ty,
You're Shawnee Mission North to me.

Read'st Thou nought of I to Thee,
As ought I not of Thee to me.

For first in one's own to read, 'tis folly,
Then frets and wonders one, by golly!
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Bard Archipoeta on August 14, 2011 1:20 PM

Let's just say we're fuller in the face,
Betimes out of time and place, when
There was a first for everything
And a first for every place, where
Everyone was new, why
Roeland Park Pool was cool.

The Dickinson, in the back,
Summer's stonedock days,
A cul-de-sac, off the beaten track,
Winter's windowpane haze.

The quarter moon's a fingernail.
Lingering in fingernail moonlight,
Shawnee Mission Park at night.

Matching shirt & sock,
Culotte, sans-culottes?
Rope-belt rock.

Years brought together again,
Spent since and in between
Two score and then some,
Well-wrought and not, unseen.

Mild memories now and then
Remember these two score,
Those hence are less and leave us
To see ourselves once more.

So let us just say we've filled out a bit in face,
Finding kindness in place and beauty in grace.
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Bard on September 9, 2011 3:04 PM

How did we forget different things
How did we know different things
It was all one wondrous halting whole
A picnic, a swing set west of the sun,
Paddle boats too fast and too slow.

Jangling keys tell you
We could drive, too,
Wishing it was a 442,
Or was that just boys
To make such noise?

Cicadas sirened
Stadia of waves
Cameth the day
The lower parking lots
Seem far away.

Something like parting of the ways
More simply that some went west
And then those fewer, east aways
Away from wandering wilderness
Away from the rest to wrest
A way that seemed to us the best.

An instance of
Remembrance
Summer cadence
Wisp of memory,
Mangled & worn.

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Mike DuPree on September 23, 2011 2:00 PM
Notes on Nelson Lunch, Sept 22, 2011
Sorry anyone who missed it did, but a grand time was had by all at the lunch at the Nelson on Thursday, Sept. 22.  I arrived right at 12:45pm.  Saw no one I recognized in the main area of the Nelson, so peeked inside the dining area.  Still no one.  Weird, but lovely, I thought to myself.  They are all hiding somewhere.  Those bums.  Gawd love em that they still have their wonderful sense of SMN70 humor.  So I wandered back into the main area of the Nelson...back...and forth...looking north and south, but mostly north...of course.  I passed this guy a couple of times who seemed as lost and forlorn as myself but figured just another visitor to the Nelson.  Finally, he spoke up first, "You with the Shawnee Mission group?"  I smiled and stared at him for only the briefest of moments then said, "Yeah, who are you?"  "Spencer Gregg."  I looked more closely and started laughing and cried his name, "SPENCER!"  then mine, "MIKE DuPREE!" and just as quickly we shook hands and I pulled him closer and hugged him and so began our lunch.  We chatted a bit in the main area of the Nelson, both of us wondering WTF where is anyone else, until we knew we were a party of two and took our lunch.  And what a lovely lunch with great company.  I do hope Spencer felt same and we see each other again.  Unfortunately, as I soon learned, I was not the reason he decided to show...lol  Sadly, he missed the 40th, but was hoping he might see his old SMN sweetie, Marla, at that lunch.  Alas, no such luck.  Just this old ornery bum was there with him.  So I did my best to help him feel all was not lost, at which I probably failed miserably, but I tried...and at least I was there to try (hint, hint, kick underneath the table).  The rest of you never came out from hiding, but I don't blame ya.  The artifacts collected in the Nelson are much more interesting than anyone who might have taken a moment from their busy lives to pause and hang out with an old friend.  Maybe next time...and thanks Spencer for a wonderful time spent!  I do hope we see more of each other.  Your Man on the Scene, Mike DuPree
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Marla Moore on September 23, 2011 2:01 PM
Sorry Spencer I was at another meeting at work. Yes unfortunatly I still have to work. Mostly for insurance. Too young to retire and live on SS but hopefully it will get better before I get that age. Hopefully they will not raise the age!!!! Try to catch you at the next get together. Thanks for not letting Mike have a no show meeting.

Marla
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Bard Archipoeta on October 23, 2011 11:43 AM

The old road to Lawrence is no more
not widened or made straighter, just
mud the world was made from there
no longer meet or fit for a two-door
mortal and machine to mend or bust
bisecting the line of lanes, made dare
to tease what lesser part of the hour
would Mount Oread arise out of the
bottoms, banking right at Sunflower,
beveling the bluff, careening down to
the flat, stars beading the black plain
twist-turn and then town lights again.

Some roads are straighter than before
criss-crossed like locks and cataracts,
leveling west, clearing north to lesion
olden haunts, the gentle infirm, humor
that no longer can amuse, muskrats
on The Kaw. K-10 and den vision.

Such roads as are, are for the two-door,
The colder cosmos of darkening infinity
Towards Lawrence once and anymore,
The unsought sight, the sought, unseen.

Evening Star Road, Morning Star Ridge
Such roads as those are for the vintage
In awe of what's ahead and was before,
Headlong along the Kaw.

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Bard on November 28, 2011 7:07 PM

'Soft you a moment
before you leave....'
Writ Fernetti.
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Bard on December 13, 2011 10:56 PM

We wish you a Merry Kristhmus,
Out here on our little isthmus,
You'll miss what there is of Christmas,
Saith Mrs. Christmas.

Amiss here upon the isthmus,
'Cause you weally weally miss us,
It's Christmas so says the Mrs.,
On our little isthmus.

We pray you will never diss us,
We say you will ever miss us,
Oy vey would you gladly kiss us,
On our little isthmus.

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