ALL A MISUNDERSTANDING

It seems there was a couple who arrived at a resort and headed directly to the oceanside after a long flight. The man, returning to the room for his cooler, found the maid cleaning his room.

Picking up the cooler he asked, "It's ok if we drink beer on the beach isn't it?"

She replied, "Well, I have a few more rooms to finish cleaning first."

So when in the early part of my sophomore year I sat in a big Study Hall in the school auditorium. Back then, for some reason we had to go to school till 4:05. School started at 8:15. We were putting in long hours and to keep us corralled, study halls were a necessity. That year I had two until Drivers Training classes started. So there I sat.

Assistants took roll for the two teachers manning the Study Hall. After roll was taken a teacher read the names of those reported absent. "If I call your name and you're here, report down front."


My name was called. Seated in the middle of a row of auditorium seats near the back, I got up and negotiated my move. By the time I reached the end of the row, the huge teacher had scuffled her way to the very back of the auditorium.

Decision time. Do I walk 10 rows to the back to her and her fellow teacher, then conversing, or do I go to the front of the auditorium as directed.

Wrong choice. I walked twenty rows to the front of the auditorium and stood there clicking an ink pen while a Senior neighbor of mine who liked to make my life somewhat miserable started laughing at me. He was joined by others. The smiling teacher didn't seem to mind to make me pay for my poor decision.

Finally, she ambled or sashayed down to me where I gave her my name and melted back to my seat.

I wasn't scarred too badly. But I never liked that teacher for hanging me out to dry. And the Senior. I still played ball with him and helped him push his car when it wouldn't start. It was just the price you paid back then for misunderstanding.

THE JELLYFISH

When pencil in mouth, Adirondack #2 traditional yellow, he scurried across the hall to his superior's office. Not daily, not bi-daily, but often- times daily to assurance his position.

The jellyfish, of course, had no spine. He was a classic sycophant. Loyal, yes, beyond question. I actually believe if "Smothers" as we called him would have been asked to kill for his boss, he would have.

Unconscionable, he parleyed his little administrative ability into a position of power by his wiles. Time and time again he was asked to skew, to falsify documentation and he was eager to do so. As a theatre plant in the audience, he was encouraged to mingle with the ones lower on the food chain and report suspicious activity or tattle on individuals who had a difference of opinion. Especially if spoken in front of a group of underlings.

He had trouble sleeping at night. Not because of his deeds during the day; not because he had sold himself out; not even because he had no self-respect. But, you see, Smothers the Jellyfish had no backbone at all. Thus the prone position was uncomfortable for him.

SQUEEZED

You can feel that way. Go ahead. We all do from time to time to time.

You see, for me it started in junior high. Middle School is what they call it now. I think Junior sounds better than Middle. Middle School sounds like lunchtime.

I had this girlfriend. She wanted to wear my initial ring. What other kind of ring would a thirteen year old have? We started kissing. She started to like it.

So much in fact that every single time I saw her she wanted to kiss me. Now, I guess she was a good kisser. I mean she puckered, she wore a little lipstick. She tasted good. No bad breath. She wore that junior high perfume, kinda flowery but more juicy somehow than older girls wore.

It was just that everytime I saw her, she wanted to kiss. I know; I've said that before. But how can I emphasize it more than by repetition?

Her mother even started squeezing me. When she would pick us up after school or when I would be at her house, she referred to herself as my mother-in-law. "Now, you listen to what your mother-in-law says--it looks like rain. If you and Teri are going to the game, take a jacket."

To think it all started with a Teddy Bear. I had given a previous girlfriend this huge bear I'd won at the Shriners or Optimist Park carnival over Fourth of July. I had made three baskets in those rigged small contoured rims that were higher than the regulation 10 feet basketball goals. The ball would barely go through even on a swish, but I knocked three in a row down and hauled off the bear. I held on to it long enough to give it away at Christmas. In return, I got an ID bracelet with my name on it. I didn't care for it much. I knew who I was and most other people did too, in my hometown.

Maybe Teri thought I had another bear. I don't know, but she initiated the whole thing. I ended it.

At the same park in the Spring I took her best friend out on the lake in a little row boat. I really did. She didn't kiss much. I guess we did, but I don't remember. I guess unless you kiss somebody about 1,000 times, you don't remember much about the actual act.

I also have no memory of Karla's mom. Except she wasn't a squeezer. Thank goodness.

WHAT MAKES A CITY

A city without a pedestrian bridge is just not a city. A necessity, a bridge offers so much to so many.

The best bridge, and I am a lover of bridges, is The Charles Bridge in Prague in the Czech Republic.

The bridge itself is an old one with centuries of wear. Statues, lamplights, set in a beautifully lit up city that comes out of fairy tales when illuminated with castles aflame. The glow of the city is almost surreal. A painter's perfect backdrop to an unmistakable visual.

"Let's walk this way, but don't turn around until I tell you to." My first time on the Charles Bridge when Gov. Edgar and his wife and a few others took my wife and me across the bridge.

When we got about half way across, the Guv said, "Now turn around." What a terrific view! It was out of Disney. Multi-colored domes and spires lit up the Czech sky. I can still picture it after 15 years.

Later that same evening I had a chance to repeat the directions with some Chicago friends and they were equally impressed with the sights. They didn't seem to trust me as much as I trusted Mr. Edgar, Chandra Seki even commenting, "Is this like Hansel and Gretle?" But they, too thought it very worthwhile.

It's not the only ped bridge, but the best I've seen for views and activities. Street vendors and musicians gathered there where I saw the best marionette show I'd seen. Lots of strollers, lots of hands held, a stolen kiss or two--all were marked for my memory bank.

I think if I lived in Prague, I'd become a regular.

AT THE CORNER

I lived there. On Blankety-Blank Street and Unknown. In a kind of Pretty How Town described by cummings.

In Searchville. In Ontheway. Resident is how my mail is addressed. Or occupant. Once To Our Friends At.

Return to Sender. Anon. Invisible. A face in the crowd. Nondescript. Mundane.

I fit the mold. Because I'm a fit-in kinda guy. That shoulda been my name. Guy. Better yet, my middle name. Justa would work perfectly as my first name. And certainly not Justa Guy Who Cain't Say No. I could if I wanted to. I think.

You see I haven't made many decisions lately. But I'm gonna. You wait and see. Just as soon as I can get out of this bed.

THE FIRST SUPERSECTIONAL AT SIU



High school basketball in Illinois is a disease. It's where the term "March Madness" originated though it was stolen by the NCAA a few years ago. A hotbed for high school basketball, Illinois has had a State Tournament since 1908. Jim Enright wrote a book by that name published in 1977 and called "March Madness" years before that. It remains as contagious in Illinois as the common cold or flu.



When I saw the picture of the Ticket Men, I thought for awhile before deciding on today's focus. I mean, I've been blessed to have some great tickets in my day. Also some tremendous freebies or no tickets needed to announce high school baseball, basketball, and football for 35 seasons. Twice getting to announce at Busch Stadium when the high school team took the field after St. Louis Cardinal victories.



World Series games, a Super Bowl, an All-Star baseball game, an NCAA final basketball game, an Opening Day ticket (although it was SRO) to a new stadium, a 9/8/98 game where Mark McGwire broke Roger Maris' home run record (although technically we had no ticket at all for that game), and others I had to choose to write about. But I picked the first Super Sectional game played at the SIU Arena in 1965.



It featured the MTV Rams against the Marion Wildcats and ended a great season for the good guys. But getting the tickets were something else as Durocher used to say.



The Ticket Manager at MTV High was a perfectionist in everything he did. Mr. Wagner was a great guy who went out of his way to see that everything he did was just so.

I arrived at the school at 6:00 AM to secure a ticket. A friend of mine was to meet me there and we were going to get the maximum number of tickets, two, for a couple of our sleepy headed friends. Ticket sales were to begin at 7:00.

I couldn't believe the line that wrapped around the gym and Voc Ed building. Some people had been there since 2:00 AM. As the line shortened, smiling friends of ours walked by and added, "They've sold a ton of tickets; I hope you get one."

As I approached the ticket booth and saw Mr. Wagner, he smiled and said, "That's all. These are last two tickets." So my bud Scott and I had ours, actually, he got one of mine, so all the others in line including our friends who had depended on us were out of luck.

When we got to the Arena, nothing like it in SoIL (southern Illinois) we saw some of our friends seated far, far away from the court. We gave our tickets to the usher who directed us down the long steps to the first row of chair seats next to the court. Darts in the form of stares were shot to us for having the best seats.

It seems that Mr. Wagner had sold the worst seats first and the best ones last. Great for us. Great game, great venue, bad result. The Rams wouldn't make the trip north to the Elite Eight. But we sure enjoyed March Madness back then.