Reunion Plans are Underway

We've just heard from Larry Holstad that the reunion plans are underway.  The committee has selected Yacht Island as the location.  This awesome facility is now being transported from the Caribbean to the mainland by way of the Gulf of Mexico.  By next March it will be heading up the Mississippi, fighting the chilly waters of dethawing ice.  Once it reaches the mouth of the Cedar River it will progress on up to the Shell Rock, arriving in Northwood by mid-June.

Utilizing its Blue Class Color, the Class of '62 has plans to turn the muddy Shell Rock into a beautiful Aqua, and paint beautiful clouds in the sky with its other Class Color, White.  Given the Class Motto, "With Courageous Hearts, Nothing Is Impossible", the Reunion Committee has determined the mission will be a slam dunk, to honor Mike Lien.  No word on whether the Island Yacht will be seen in the 4th of July Parade.

One Year and Counting

We don't know when you started viewing this blog and in fact just discovered the first posting on the blog occurred a couple months earlier than we recalled, on June 5, 2010. The posting was titled The Northwood Swim Pool and read:

Found by Marsha Gaarder Hasseler in the ancient news section of the Northwood Anchor:

May 19, 1960
Four lifeguards were hired for the Northwood swimming pool for the season and are Craig Pangburn, Sharyl Knutson, Harry Rogers and Craig Ensign. All have earned the senior lifesaving certificate of the American Red Cross. Donna Davenport and Jane Pacey will be lifeguards at the wading pool.

Today it seems that was a lightweight story to kick this off but it is what it is, and now we are close to 150 posts later. And in need of more stories from all you readers. Most blogs last no more than 90 days, so there's a little bit of pride here, that we're one year and counting, and many of you have been extraordinarily helpful to float reminders of what we enjoyed 50 years ago, thus keeping this alive. And we ain't done yet, especially if you submit your own stories and photos.

The blog started out kind of by accident. After a few emails flew back and forth a year ago, Marsha sent a couple to us including notice of the above big event from 1960, with a note saying, "Wouldn't it be nice if we had a place to store all these stories so they're available at our 50th reunion in 2012." From that suggestion and a few personal questions like, "What if I . . . ?" we discovered the Google blog system is relatively easy to use, photo friendly, available for others to expound on any topic while restrictive in who can be let in, and best of all, free. And if you've been following the blog, you now notice a new background template - celebrating the first year.

We have heard a planning committee met last week to begin the process of the 50th so we can indeed expound on any of these topics and brag - if we want to. Bob and Vickie Hall, Cheryl Calabria, and Karen Abrahms met in Northwood and have since had communications with Larry Holstad. We're sure to hear more from them as the planning moves forward, and in the meantime you may want to mark your calendar for the four days of July 4 - 7 as they narrow in on best possible dates.

You might also contact them or nkhs62@gmail.com with your ideas on how you'd like to celebrate. A variety show? That's what Merrilee Reid suggested once. Well, maybe not exactly a variety show, but she can fill you in. Personally, we think a Kangaroo Court is imperative, if for no other reason than to finally bring Stan Arendts to justice for his flagrant violations of the - er - law.

We're kind of rambling a little bit here, from the blog to the history to the committee to the reunion, but all of it leads us back to the same place, where we grew up - and dreams began.

Lee Leidal

BlogMaster

When I Grow Up - a Retrospective

Just thinking - I'd bet the median income of our classmates over time is probably much higher than the national averages. I say that based on the success stories of those classmates that I've read or heard about. It's not that financial success is such a big deal. Other than our having graduated from a small school in a small Iowa town with perhaps no more than a good upbringing and a desire to do well for ourselves and others. And we did just that, it seems.

Maybe others had a goal in life during the time we were in school, but I did not really have one other than a comfortable life, and in fact, until not many years ago was still wondering what I would be when I grew up. Still am. Then it got close enough to the point that there wasn't much more growing up to do and the goals didn't make so much difference. Other than the comfortable life.

Today, May 6, 2011, I turned in my key and walked out of the office where I had worked for the past 3+ years, ready to move on with the part of my life that comes when I do "grow up." In the final 30 days I have thought many times that the goal of life had always been, for me, all about work, not about being retired and being inactive, so this new "life" has yet to prove itself to me. Don't take that wrong, I am not saying retirement is a bad thing at all, it's just that what I am looking at now is so different from the days when Sunday night was the planning night to get ready for the week, scope out the people I was going to meet, the places I was going to go. Going forward, that planning night will be all for me - not the company I work for.

Now there's no looking back except to review this blog about the school and the town "where dreams began." That was nearly 50 years ago for most of us. And those dreams have fulfilled themselves in a variety of ways, creating a number of business owners, top-shelf parents, entrepreneurs, educators, sales guys, maybe nurses or doctors, even a scientist or two. I think about Judy Nelson Holtan, who was the head OR nurse for the first heart transplant undertaken in Houston, TX by Dr Michael DeBakey, as one example of small town made good. That was a huge event - and Northwood-Kensett High School was "in the room", so to speak.

So I can't help but appreciate the town where I grew up, the adults who gave me direction, and the many schoolmates that have been such a big part of my life, even when they were far away. Thanks to all for just being such good folks.

Pondering Immortality

In response to a previous posting (Thoughts While Shoveling Snow) and a few shared emails, Janis Hendrickson ('65) sent this along, edited in part.

Your preceding emails called out to me – here’s my response…for whatever it’s worth.

Why are some spared, others not? That question perplexes us who have survived. Is it the luck of the draw, Divine intervention, common sense, or possibly a strong resistance to open the door if the Grim Reaper has attempted to get in?

I’d venture to say that as children, and certainly as teenagers, any of us could have easily succumbed from dangerous circumstances that required “thinking.” It has been proven in medical studies that teenagers’ brains do not have the ability to know good from bad judgment, many times. How many of us actually weighed the dangers before proceeding in something exciting, but perilous? I know I certainly didn’t…many times over. Three members of our class of '65 were driving a white Buick at age 17 on Highway 105 East of Northwood, all 3 in the front seat, when the driver put the pedal to the metal to test out the power of the car. One rider yelled over the roar of the engine ”105 is the highway number, NOT the speed limit!” Case in point, a living testimonial of the above mentioned medical study.

Another impulsive, non-thinking decision in my senior year could have easily caused an early demise. Two classmates were riding in a car when a 3rd somehow entered the scene and subsequently drove the car a distance down the frozen Shellrock River south of the ball park. Was there any discussion that perhaps the ice wouldn’t hold us? Did they think or reason out the situation? Not a thought…nada…of any potential hidden danger. The outcome could have been so different. Why were they lucky, when others who pulled the same prank elsewhere were not so fortunate?

It does give one pause to wonder why we’re here, and others have gone on to meet their maker ahead of us.

Ultimately we not in control of our own destiny, as hard as it is to own that thought. There is a reason and purpose for everything and it is not for us to understand all the whys and what-ifs in life.

I guess we need these ponderings, not to ask why we’re still here and others aren’t, but to be thankful that we are and remember, in reverence, the ones who preceded us to the Great Beyond! Pondering is a good thing – it quiets the soul and lets us come to terms with our own mortality.

Painful Thoughts While Shoveling Snow

I wrote this a month ago but let it sit in draft status until today, and I'm not sure why. But here goes . . .

It's kind of amazing how thoughts tumble through my head while I'm out shoveling (more) snow. Richard Holstad keeps dropping ideas and I get these recollections, some good, some bad, and sometimes they crystallize while I'm trying to make my physical world better.


Within the walls of the old high school building I don't think I was ever smart enough to imagine where I would wind up today. That's not necessarily a good or bad thing, and maybe I'm not the only one to fall into this category of having, to some degree, "drifted" to where I am today. And that is not necessarily a good or bad thing either. It's just what it is.


But while I think about that I also think of the classmates that we've lost over the years and their consequent inability to get to our age - like we have, whether by design or by accident. So far as I know, Barbara Morris was the first to be in this group, and the more I think about it, the more tragic it is that she never made it out of high school, never really made it into the starting blocks, so to speak.


On the day of her funeral my dad asked me about my plans to attend, and at the moment he asked I was frankly waffling, not sure if I should or would or not. Somehow, his question made me think that it must be important to be there, so I went. You were probably there, and you probably remember like me just how quiet it was in that packed church - the Methodist Church, as I recall. The 6 seniors of the basketball team served as pallbearers, and the whole service was a check against our immortality. It was so sorrowful, so sudden, so true.


It was five or six years later that Arlo Severson died in a car accident near Cedar Rapids. I was asked to be a pallbearer, my first time doing so, and again felt this surreal awareness of mortality. After the services we had the traditional Norwegian Lutheran lunch in the basement, and it was there that Gladys Severson thanked me for being a pallbearer. What was I supposed to say? I was caught short of words. "You're welcome" seems feeble and "thank you for asking me" would be downright stupid.


Serving as a pallbearer is not my favorite thing to do, even though it is certainly an honor to be asked to do so, and I would not decline unless it flat is not possible to participate. And where our early departing classmates are concerned, I find myself musing over their lives - what might they have become? We who are left can only be musing about our own dreams and whatever measure of satisfaction we might feel we have achieved.

Memories from an Old Classmate

Just wanted to share with all of you just how important our roots are. I have only attended two class reunions and visited a few summers. I was able to bring back all of my childhood memories when I went returned. Playing in king of the mountain, I draw the frying pan with Ralph Thompto and the Fistler brothers; hide and seek; playing from dawn until dusk in the Shell Rock River - they were all great memories of Northwood. My parents and Mike Lien's were always trying to get the two of us together. Every May 1st, Mike would show up with "my May basket" and turn and run like hell! Spending the night with Jo Tenold or Betty Ryan on the farm and having to wake up and do "chores". I think Betty and I actually giggled more than we ever talked! Playing with Jo Olson every day after school; Falling in love the first time in 6th grade - only to find out he was a cousin of mine! And then there was my partner in crime, Cheryl Grube ... we had so many good times together and have continued our friendship. Friendships that have gone on throughout the years since I left Northwood and those that have been rekindled - all very special. So many great memories. I thank my parents for at least staying in Northwood long enough for me to get my roots solid. It has given me "great" roots.

The first reunion I attended was the 25th and it was a real joy. I was able to see Bill Roberts before he passed. Shortly after the reunion, Larry Holstad and a buddy stopped by to see us in Playa del Rey. I took them over to Catalina Island to show Larry where Jim and I were planning to retire. Larry's friend was running in a 10K on the Island the following March so he was able to see the route.

I didn't know many of the Kensett kids as I left Northwood at the end of 7th grade, but I have had the opportunity to get to know a few and it has been a pleasure. Stan and Arlyn and their wives had cocktails (and perhaps a little dinner) one nite with me in Laguna Woods. We watched Dick Holstad's fantastic DVD production of the class of 1962. Last month I was able to reacquaint with Marsha Gaarder; we had dinner with her and husband, Bob, in Waterford, NY . Upstate NY was awesome; enjoyed Niagara Falls, Cooperstown, 5 Finger Lakes and 1000 Islands and Alexandria Bay - lots of history in that part of the country to say the least.

Thanks to each and every one of you for sharing a wonderful part of my life with me

Where Dreams Began

When I started putting this together I couldn't help but be a bit wistful. From grade school on up we were perhaps most focused on our "first's" - first day, first teacher, first game, first musical, perhaps a first kiss or first girl or boyfriend at some point.

Today we might be looking at the "last's": the last day of work, the last time visiting Northwood, the last time we saw each other, the last time we had to crack a book (for study, anyway).

And now we are where we are, and more and more every day I see Northwood-Kensett as our rock, the place where our dreams began. My hope is that all our dreams were lived as fully as they could have been, even the dreams we didn't know that we held when we left.