17 OCT 08: KNOW YOUR BLOGGER - THE HIGH LIFE

(BLOGGER'S NOTE: This blog is on vacation for several days. In the meantime, we offer this "Know Your Blogger" series -- excerpts from our autobiography, in the shadow of our 50th birthday in August.)

A large attendance spurt in my area led to my entering high school in ninth grade, in an area where tenth was considered the norm. Washington High School had to be on split shifts in that year, so I went to class from 12:30 p.m.-5:30 p.m. every day. Between watching "Jeopardy" and "Split Second" on TV in the 11:00 a.m. hour, I learned a lot.

I took an introductory Journalism course, to begin my ninth-grade days. One assignment had the class ordering newspapers in other cities, to see how they covered the 1972 election. The Toronto Globe and Mail came to my house within 48 hours -- which was about the only time in high school I won a race.

My ninth-grade geometry teacher was Mr. Meditz. He was known for random pop quizzes, the Cadillac he drove thanks to his second job as a bartender -- and how he showed the class you never write a side-angle-side drawing with the shorthand A-S-S.

A new high school opened in my sophomore year, to end the split schedule -- but that meant a split student body. Teresa went to the new school, and our friendship faded. I only saw her a couple of times after that. But did she ever wear the Valerie Bertinelli look well at a grocery store....

Physical education was a required sophomore subject, and admittedly one of my weakest ones. On the 1-5 grading scale with 1 at the top, I did well to score a "2." And I didn't even score two points in "Texas Basketball" -- an odd name for a game we played in a swimming pool.

Because of the early arrival of freshmen students, some sophomores were allowed to go directly to top-level high school groups. I entered the A Capella Choir as a sophomore, singing alongside an eventual health services company Vice President -- a man I was stunned to discover had a same-sex marriage in California last month. To think he played an Elvis Presley-type character in the school musical....

The choir was directed by Mr. Wright, who was easily the most impressionable high school teacher I ever had. He was a perfectionist with an emotional streak -- and not beyond throwing his baton in frustration at times. Thankfully, he stopped short of stabbing anyone with it.

Choir membership allowed me to have roles in school musicals. "Bye Bye Birdie" was the sophomore-year show -- and some say I stole the show as a police officer with only one line, but plenty of expressive gestures in the background. I wore the police uniform from start to finish, perhaps setting the stage for current jokes about a shortage of Columbus officers.

Another memorable sophomore class was "Honors English," with Mrs. Rhone -- a true Southern lady, with an accent to match. It was in that class where a future Senior Class President accused me of being spoiled. I responded my family owned only ONE trash compactor.

The summer between sophomore and junior years was when I learned to drive. I learned the hard way, in fact -- as my first attempt to roll the family car ten yards into the garage ended with the side-view mirror knocked to the ground.

Our high school had a summer Driver's Education course, complete with road training. It's easy to remember the day when I obtained my driver's license -- because it was the day Richard Nixon announced his resignation as President. Thankfully, it was two days after the Hiroshima ing anniversary.

My mother was a worry-wart as she sat alongside my early driving trips, giving me plenty of instructions as we went. Compare that with my father years later -- who couldn't believe I was driving at the speed limit on the freeway, and offered to step out of the car to push.

That summer also found me working on my first job outside the family trucking business. I was a one-week fill-in dishwasher at O'Leary's Restaurant -- and with no machines to help, I quickly found it was more like an O'ver-my-head Restaurant.

The junior year of high school found me adding debate to the daily schedule. Our coach Mr. Gould enjoyed mocking stiff oratory contest speakers who could only say for an opening line, "Duty! Honor! Country!" Presumably he never judged one of those debates to win American Legion scholarships....

But someone later told me I upset Mr. Gould, by objecting one day to his use of four-letter curse words in some of his lectures. To his credit, he practically stopped saying them -- proving you CAN make a point without cursing. Most rap stars seemingly don't know that now.

My debate colleague (you don't DARE call them "partners") was the son of a United Church of Christ Pastor. Both father and son were nice Christian people. Keep in mind this was the mid-seventies -- before people in that denomination openly started calling on God to curse the U.S.

Our team did well in novice debate, winning five out of six preliminary matches at a few tournaments and making playoff rounds. But we never advanced to a final round, while other teams did -- so we were like a football team which gets used to attending the Sun Bowl every year.

I also joined the school newspaper in my junior year. I reported on all sorts of stories, wrote a few essays for the editorial page, and joined other staff members in selling advertising. Uh oh -- I think I sold more ads for that paper than I have for this blog over the years.

The junior class musical was "The Music Man" -- and my role was the somewhat pompous Mayor Shinn. Which is pronounced like how I said a classic city in one line: Pom-pee-eye.

Amidst this busy schedule, I came close to a milestone in my junior year -- a date. I was smitten with a bright attractive singer, who transferred to a different high school after the sophomore year. When she said yes to my offer to take her to the prom, I was stunned. But my mother helped, by driving me to a tuxedo shop....

But alas, that great moment was not to be. My date canceled on me a few days later, citing an ailing relative in the Missouri Ozarks [23 Apr 06]. She's now an insurance attorney in Kansas City -- and do I ever hope she's been truthful from start to finish.

Between the junior and senior years of high school, I tried another job -- as a telemarketer selling portrait plans. While I made a few sales, the overall staff tended to struggle to make weekly goals. And the manager was NOT pleased when I became desperate on a Friday evening, and offered plans at a lower price.

But things were trying for another reason that summer, as my mother and father separated after 26 years of marriage. Mom told Dad to leave late on a Friday night. I kept quiet in my bedroom -- so to this day I don't know if they staged a suitcase-throwing contest.

It seemed like my Mom cried in her favorite dining room chair for nearly a week, after telling my Dad to leave. But she had prepared for the big moment for days -- including the installation of a separate phone line in the house. This was long before cell phones, with separate ring tones to give the cheaters away....

I chose to stay with my Mom instead of my Dad, because I didn't know where Dad was going. Well, other than to divorce court late in my senior year....

The change at home caused some adjustment for my senior year of high school. I didn't go to the opera for Humanities class, writing an essay instead. The debate coach offered to help me pay dining expenses at some tournaments. And there was "timesharing" with Mom, when it came to using the car -- but a bright red Nova made me feel a bit cool.

My debate colleague was changed for a couple of tournaments in the senior year, to an (ahem) eccentric fellow named Gerald. I never asked, but everyone assumed he was homosexual -- and my mother couldn't resist laughing out loud when he grabbed a knife and fork to eat a hamburger.

The fall debate season turned to speech contests in the spring -- and I won first place at one high school tournament for "radio speaking." No school was advanced enough to have TV newscasting back then. Why, my house was "cutting edge" to have cable TV showing the Atlanta station that became WTBS.

I also gained fame in speech contest season for an "informative speech" about the fad of pet rocks. I had my own, which I named Herbert. To this day, I don't know if People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals considers this OK or bizarre.

I was named editor of the school newspaper during my senior year -- and tried to add to that clout, by running for Student Body President, against the newspaper adviser's wishes. She turned out to be right. I was a poor third, and my cutting- edge attempt at "going negative" in a debate at the auditorium simply didn't work.

A few people were surprised when audition time came for the senior musical, and Mr. Wright gave me the lead in "Man of La Mancha." It made for a challenging few weeks in 1976 -- especially when I was told to actually exercise and get in shape for the role.

But the payoff came in March, when "Man of La Mancha" was on stage for three nights -- and I probably stunned some classmates with how well I could sing [9 Sep 06]. It didn't get me extra money singing later at their weddings, but I stunned them....

Those three nights were the highlight of the senior year, and things quickly concluded after that. I received several awards at a graduation assembly, including one for a grade of better than 100 percent in Latin class. It was only possible thanks to what our teacher called "extra creditus."

The "spirit of '76" (as I tried to bill myself in Presidential campaign posters, admittedly borrowing from Union Oil) graduated on a Friday night in May at the local community college. Against the director's better judgment, our choir sang "My Way" during the ceremony. Since then, I've heard church pastors condemn that song so much that I never even use the Myway.com web site.

My 18th birthday occurred two weeks before I went to college -- and the staff at the barbecue restaurant where we dined was stunned. I actually was turning 18 surrounded by family members. I wasn't going to bars for the night -- and not even ordering draft beer off their menu.

(Our series will continue in our next post on Sunday)

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