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Sunday, May 27, 2012

Becky Harlan Laughlin and her husband Bill visit Hawaii

Becky's husband, Bill Laughlin, enjoying a delightful read by the sea, by the sea, by the beautiful sea, you and me, by the sea, by the beautiful sea:  KNUCKLES - The Hound of Hanalei - going all native and LOVING IT!



In Becky Harlan Laughlin's own words:  
Woke up this morning in beautiful Kauia. Happy Mother's Day!
Becky notes:  
Auntie Ipo! Blessing the new pool at the resort.She is full of the spirit of aloha...

First time I ever noticed one of these, I was out, around 9 PM with my boys, we were riding our bikes up at Beese Park.  The most ginormous Orange Moon I've ever seen comes up, and my son exclaims: "Hey, there's a fielder's moon!"  A phrase I'd not heard before, nor since.  ANYWAY, we had one this year already.  Becky was good enough to provide the photo and some background text:  
'Supermoon' alert: The biggest full moon of 2012 occurs this weekend. The skinny: 

http://tinyurl.com/canlm68
Last day in Kauai

Monday, September 5, 2011

From Kathleen Harris - One of God's Holy Warriors


Wishing You...Peace, Love and Joy . . . Always and Forever  August 30, 2011
As has probably been mentioned by someone or other, suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (aka PTSD) can be a bit like unknowingly entering and blithely traversing a psychic mine field.  

Let's see if I can make that a bit more vivid.    

It may have to do with the time space continuum in a way.  If I come off sounding like I am trying to describe a Magritte surrealist painting to a person who is only familiar with Andy Warhol's creations, I apologize.  If that is necessary.  To me, a PTSD-affected spiritual landscape is one that has become fraught with subterranean camouflaged pot holes, automobile-swallowing ditches and incendiary devices.  And perhaps there are also some pathways that seem like they should be familiar or that used to have clear sign posts now seem to lead to unsuspected destinations and undesirable locations. 

Now. 

Uh-oh.   Have I already lost you?

Or maybe you would rather not continue on the journey with me.  If so, I understand.
   
No harm, no foul.

But these images have been lurking in my consciousness lately, and just tonight I realized why.  

The pot holes, mine fields, and deceptive pathways minus familiar sign posts are triggered by the anniversaries of traumatic events or time periods.  Even if I go out of my way not to be in touch with the fact that the anniversaries are coming up or upon me, my psyche never forgets.   So it's just that the end of August and the beginning of September are times when a lot of exciting and/or traumatic things happened to me. 

The even stranger thing is that there are not necessarily uniform ways of experiencing whatever comes up from the underground or appears along a pathway. And the image of mine fields may give you the impression that there is a stark flat plain stretching in all directions when actually there also might be dark forests, or even jungles . . . and/or the mysteries of a deep and wide open ocean.  

Often the PTSD episode triggers become evident when I find myself awake all night for one or more nights in a row or several over a short period of time.  At first I may tell myself that there is no reason not to be able to sleep, but I am always trying to fool myself when I say that.  It is more likely that sleep is elusive because there is no desire to enter into the level of consciousness that leaves me open to the dream state.  

Or maybe something  from the nocturnal musings of the days leading up to the sleepless nights has already broadcast warnings about the approach to the mine field.  Be that as it may, once I really do get back connected with the date, I am forced to confront the reality.  Addressing that reality head on does not necessarily help much, however. 

That reminds me of the old Air Force saying that begins a lot of war stories.  The stories start with: "There I was . . . flying along fat dumb and happy. . . "   The story continues with whatever was horrendous, terrifying, difficult and/or shocking, but somehow the storyteller survives.

I guess one of the reasons that things are traumatic is that they come out of nowhere and are so shocking and disturbing that you really can't get your mind around them.  

Ever.

I agree with the sentiment expressed by Robin Williams when he said: 

"Reality . . . what a concept!"

Even though it may be that some sort of past reality intrudes on contemporary life, the PTSD episode always seems to be more powerful than whatever is going on in the present.  Or maybe it's just that whatever the present reality is cannot quite compete with the past "reality."  And the traumatic memories can be so vivid that they can tend to make the present reality seem to fade away into the background.  

Or even to disappear. 
   
And even more than that sometimes the imagination interjects itself into the memories and the present reality so that there are stacked levels of elements surrounding and enhancing memories, musings, illusions and allegories.

Probably not much of that is really making any of this any clearer, is it?

When I am able to talk to friends who were involved in the trauma I find it helpful, but I also realize then that none of us experienced what happened in the same way.  What happened affected and continues to affect (or doesn't continue to affect) each one of us in various ways.  

Of course.

How could it be otherwise?  Each of us is a distinct individual with a variety of distinct personalities and experiences.  

Our lives intersected with one another for that particular time or times and we came to those points from different places and went our separate ways to reconnect with one another again possibly one on one . . . or with several of us or with some of us.  Or never again with most or even all of us.  At least not yet.  or maybe not ever on this terrestrial plane.

As a case in point, not long ago I saw some Armed Forces Television Network dramatizations concerning two soldiers who were wounded in the recent past.  They both suffered from PTSD.  One was given a chance to talk about the trauma with professional counselors from the earliest time of his physical recovery.  The other soldier did not have a chance to communicate with anyone about what had happened to him until a long while after he was released back into civilian life.  Each was able to get help, but the latter suffered more and for a longer length of time.  Go figure!

Seeing the segments aimed at encouraging military members who have been affected by PTSD to seek help as soon as possible was encouraging since so many veterans are being added to the roles.

And I recently saw the movie "Random Harvest" again, too. (Have you ever watched it?  Greer Garson and Ronald Coleman are marvelous in the story about the effects of battle fatigue on a British soldier in WW I.)  So even though the term PTSD had not been coined back in the early 20th century, I was reminded that people have been suffering with the condition from way back. (No doubt as long as man's inhumanity to men has been extant.)
   
There are ways to put the memories to rest and to keep the ghosts at bay.

But actually sometimes I look forward to being with my dearly departed once more.  They are all loving and kindly spirits even if they are just as I have imagined them.  Or remembered them.

There are times that seem overloaded with intertwining layers of memories because there were different traumatic experiences that happened at the same time of the year -- or even on certain particular dates of multiple years, so that somehow the PTSD trash compactor has smooshed them all together and it's difficult to discern which presenting traumatic memories come from where.  Or when.

There also might be organic or atmospheric or astronomical (or other) factors involved in the fertilizing compost heaped up in my psyche.  And too much digging around into all that would not be really helpful anyway, no doubt.

But the traumas are not necessarily all negative.  Sometimes great joys can trigger recurring disturbances, too.  Both positive and negative emotions can be draining, energizing or enervating.  Not sure I can always choose which one of those at any particular time.

Because certainly to begin with . . . in my earliest memories the joys of getting to go back to school every Tuesday after Labor Day were fraught with excitement. And tension.  And anticipation.  So onto those layers of emotional  memories were added the adult traumatic adventures that happened to have occurred around the same time.

For instance last year when over 200 of the members of our high school class got together for the first time in ten, twenty, thirty or forty years (or all of the above, or even more or less often), there was a special kind of traumatic experience.  

In a good way.

But it reminded me of the other groups of friends I had gone through stuff with when I was on active duty in the Air Force.  And when I was at Seminary.  And when I was serving churches.  

Et cetera.  Et cetera.  Et cetera. (As the King of Siam was quoted as saying in "The King and I.")

Know what I mean?

Well, even if you don't, by writing this I seem to have diffused the most powerful psychic mines in my way tonight, and I seem to have recovered the sign posts on some of the obscured pathways.  

So thanks for hanging in there with me as I wandered around trying to explain it all to you.  

That was a big help!

And God bless us, every one.

As ever -- Kathy 



Be Blessed
"Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God."

Matthew 5:3-9

Sunday, July 17, 2011

I'll be performing tomorrow, July 18, 2011 in Crystal Lake, IL

Sunday, July 17, 2011

I'll be performing tomorrow, July 18, 2011 in Crystal Lake, IL

At the Williams Street Public House
83 N. Williams Street
Crystal Lake, IL

Starting at 11:15 a.m. - 3:00 p.m.

This will become a regular gig for me, whoop dee doop!

Will play the oldest songs I know (Introduction to The Epic of Gilgamesh), The Myth of Er (from Plato's Republic) and a Gregorian chant, which, written circa 700 AD is almost contemporary! ... ROFLMAO!!

Will play the "Welcome to My World" set (while my folks aren't in, they're not overtly fond of Umbilical Detonation) with my two newest songs:

Steve Kunkel - Bar Fightin' Street Fightin' Man
Claire (instrumental)

And then will astound the audience with a cornucopia of tunes from the 60's.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Brushes with heroes - how I ALMOST got to play golf with Larry Lujak TWICE



Brushes with heroes - how I ALMOST got to play golf with Larry Lujak TWICE

So, it's 1981, and I'm driving to work, listening to WLS and Larry, who announces that there is still an opening in his foursome for the NFL March of Dimes, Celebrity Golf Outing and Kemper Lakes (in late October). I make my phone call, and get a very nice lady, casually mentioning that Larry has said that there is still an opening in his group. "Oh, no," she replies, "THAT foursome filled up a long time ago."

"Well then Uncle Larry misrepresents the facts."

"So, you don't want to play in the outing then."

"No, of course I want to play; it's a worthy cause."

Some time passes, when I get a call. It's about the outing. I start to go into my by now standard bitch and moan about Larry's misrepresentation of the facts. "But, you're going to playing with him." I continue into my next sentence. Poor woman, hardly getting a word in edge-wise, when the full import of what she has just said begins to sink in.

"Who am I going to play golf with?"

"You will be playing with Larry Lujak."

"I'm going to be playing golf with Larry Lujak. I'm going to be playing golf with Larry Lujak! I'm going to be playing golf with Larry Lujak!!"

I start flitting around the damn office (4444 W Lawrence Avenue, Bankers Life & Casualty Company), like a leaf in the win, letting everyone know.

Chuck Ritzke, FSA (Fellow of the Society of Actuaries, OR, Fine Specimen of Alcoholism, depending) tells me to ask Larry if he counts all his strokes.

Gary Stanton asks me to ask Larry about Sparky the Bull, Gary's (and Uncle Larry's) favorite story. It came to pass that Sparky was mating with a cow when the intimate couple was struck by lightning. Cow died, Sparky lives. Gary is from Beatrice Nebraska, where such stories keep the locals from going suicidal. Not sure why Larry liked it so much. The nice lady also informs me that Larry will be leaving work later, and not arrive at the course until a few minutes before the shotgun, so, whereas we the proles were to arrive an hour before the shotgun start, in his case, it could be later.

And the day before "the big day" arrives. At this time, I was involved with evaluating the health insurance block of Bankers Life and Casualty, and its direct mail sales susidiary, Bankers Multiple Line. John MacArthur had died, and left the company into a Charitable Trust where it is by law stipulated that the company must divest itself of 80% of its assets within five years. John D. MacArthur, owner since 1932 of BL&C had one corporate strategy only; minimize federal income taxes.

So, I work late into the night, and around midnight, rather than drive home to Oak Park, I go to the Greek tavern at Kilborn and Lawrence, have about 10 drinks, some saganaki, and go curl up in the car in the parking lot (so I can get to work at 6 a.m., hopefully to generate the report for my idiot boss, the most over-rated Mike Abroe.)

This all works well, but Mike is slow-playing my ass, and FINALLY, around 9 a.m. (shotgun start is at 11), I get to meet with him and hand off the report. I drive the speed limit back to Oak Park in order to shave and shower and pick up my sticks. I drive the speed limit to Kemper, going out the Edens. I pull into the long driveway, and the carts are heading out. Not to worry. I park, go to the club house and proudly announce: " I'm Mark Ganzer, and I'm playing golf with Larry Lujak.

Um, because you weren't here, we filled his group with somebody else. DAY YAM! You'll be playing with Jeff Fisher.

So they run my enraged ass out to the #13 tee. It's windy, 35 mph, the course is hard, caked. A HONEY BEAR is driving Jeff's cart, and there are two other carts in the group. We have a 5-some.

FINE, I can hit on the HONEY BEAR. Well, almost, EXCEPT that hers is the only husband of a HONEY BEAR playing in the tourney. Crap.

I shank my tee shot on the par three straight right, O.B. (one out, two penalty, three on the tee). In all, I would lose 10 golf balls to water or out-of-bounds, and shoot 102.

Jeff Fisher, however, is a rookie and most impressive. 5'8", 175 pounds, he admits, "I'm not very fast, but I've never fair caught a punt, and never fumbled a punt return, and I can play the nickel back on third an long in the obvious passing situations. I think there is a place on the Bears for a player like me." And, of course, he was right. Almost 20 years later, I came within 5 seconds of winning $1,400 on the Super Bowl in a "loser's pool" (to advance, you had to pick the loser) and I am the only player to have picked the Titans. So close, and yet so far.

HONEY BEAR comes over to say to me (after I finished relieving myself in the woods), "Mah (she was southern) husband really likes you. He luvs to drink beer."

We finish up on the 12th hole. As we head back around the horse shoe turn, and start to ascend the hill, it becomes obvious that our cart is out of juice. We begin to push it up the hill. Then, in one of those moments of beer window clarity, we look at each other and say, "Is this your cart?" "No, this is not my cart." "Screw it, let's walk." (Real teammates would have sent a cart out to pick us up, but every body was digusted with us for peeing on just about every hole.

I put my sticks back in the car. Don't have much time, as Susan and I have dance lessons at Triton College. I'm in the golf shop, looking at the merchandise, when, in walks the man HIS OWN SELF. Larry Lujak.

I am not shy. I stride up to him (he is much taller in life than he sounds on the radio). "Larry Lujak," I begin.

"Nice shirt," he snarls laconically (Gary Stanton had presented me with an animal stories shirt, special order for this event).

"You misrepresent the facts."

"Yes, I do," he said, taking demonic delight with the direction our conversation is descending into.

"Well, sir," says I, "my friends had two questions for you. Number one, 'Do you count all your stokes?'"

He too carded a 101. I don't give him a chance to answer, "Aw, what the hell, you had to have counted most of them."

"Next question?" he asks.

"Can you tell me, whatever happened to Sparky the Bull?"

And now his lower lip curled with a quiver of delight, delight in the soul of one who has known a lot of sadness, the infinite sadness of being. "Sparky is alive and well," he advises.

"Good, says I," knowing our conversation is just about ended. "Is it true that lightning always strikes twice in the same place?" I leave him with that. And another ounce of sardonic delight emerged through those layers of sadness, and depression, the eyes, dark and deep set into the forehead and skull.

We parted. I had had my two minutes of fame. I was sated.

PART I: THE END.
rushes with heroes - how I ALMOST got to play golf with Larry Lujak TWICE

Brushes with heroes - how I ALMOST got to play golf with Larry Lujak TWICE

So, it's 1981, and I'm driving to work, listening to WLS and Larry, who announces that there is still an opening in his foursome for the NFL March of Dimes, Celebrity Golf Outing and Kemper Lakes (in late October). I make my phone call, and get a very nice lady, casually mentioning that Larry has said that there is still an opening in his group. "Oh, no," she replies, "THAT foursome filled up a long time ago."

"Well then Uncle Larry misrepresents the facts."

"So, you don't want to play in the outing then."

"No, of course I want to play; it's a worthy cause."

Some time passes, when I get a call. It's about the outing. I start to go into my by now standard bitch and moan about Larry's misrepresentation of the facts. "But, you're going to playing with him." I continue into my next sentence. Poor woman, hardly getting a word in edge-wise, when the full import of what she has just said begins to sink in.

"Who am I going to play golf with?"

"You will be playing with Larry Lujak."

"I'm going to be playing golf with Larry Lujak. I'm going to be playing golf with Larry Lujak! I'm going to be playing golf with Larry Lujak!!"

I start flitting around the damn office (4444 W Lawrence Avenue, Bankers Life & Casualty Company), like a leaf in the win, letting everyone know.

Chuck Ritzke, FSA (Fellow of the Society of Actuaries, OR, Fine Specimen of Alcoholism, depending) tells me to ask Larry if he counts all his strokes.

Gary Stanton asks me to ask Larry about Sparky the Bull, Gary's (and Uncle Larry's) favorite story. It came to pass that Sparky was mating with a cow when the intimate couple was struck by lightning. Cow died, Sparky lives. Gary is from Beatrice Nebraska, where such stories keep the locals from going suicidal. Not sure why Larry liked it so much. The nice lady also informs me that Larry will be leaving work later, and not arrive at the course until a few minutes before the shotgun, so, whereas we the proles were to arrive an hour before the shotgun start, in his case, it could be later.

And the day before "the big day" arrives. At this time, I was involved with evaluating the health insurance block of Bankers Life and Casualty, and its direct mail sales susidiary, Bankers Multiple Line. John MacArthur had died, and left the company into a Charitable Trust where it is by law stipulated that the company must divest itself of 80% of its assets within five years. John D. MacArthur, owner since 1932 of BL&C had one corporate strategy only; minimize federal income taxes.

So, I work late into the night, and around midnight, rather than drive home to Oak Park, I go to the Greek tavern at Kilborn and Lawrence, have about 10 drinks, some saganaki, and go curl up in the car in the parking lot (so I can get to work at 6 a.m., hopefully to generate the report for my idiot boss, the most over-rated Mike Abroe.)

This all works well, but Mike is slow-playing my ass, and FINALLY, around 9 a.m. (shotgun start is at 11), I get to meet with him and hand off the report. I drive the speed limit back to Oak Park in order to shave and shower and pick up my sticks. I drive the speed limit to Kemper, going out the Edens. I pull into the long driveway, and the carts are heading out. Not to worry. I park, go to the club house and proudly announce: " I'm Mark Ganzer, and I'm playing golf with Larry Lujak.

Um, because you weren't here, we filled his group with somebody else. DAY YAM! You'll be playing with Jeff Fisher.

So they run my enraged ass out to the #13 tee. It's windy, 35 mph, the course is hard, caked. A HONEY BEAR is driving Jeff's cart, and there are two other carts in the group. We have a 5-some.

FINE, I can hit on the HONEY BEAR. Well, almost, EXCEPT that hers is the only husband of a HONEY BEAR playing in the tourney. Crap.

I shank my tee shot on the par three straight right, O.B. (one out, two penalty, three on the tee). In all, I would lose 10 golf balls to water or out-of-bounds, and shoot 102.

Jeff Fisher, however, is a rookie and most impressive. 5'8", 175 pounds, he admits, "I'm not very fast, but I've never fair caught a punt, and never fumbled a punt return, and I can play the nickel back on third an long in the obvious passing situations. I think there is a place on the Bears for a player like me." And, of course, he was right. Almost 20 years later, I came within 5 seconds of winning $1,400 on the Super Bowl in a "loser's pool" (to advance, you had to pick the loser) and I am the only player to have picked the Titans. So close, and yet so far.

HONEY BEAR comes over to say to me (after I finished relieving myself in the woods), "Mah (she was southern) husband really likes you. He luvs to drink beer."

We finish up on the 12th hole. As we head back around the horse shoe turn, and start to ascend the hill, it becomes obvious that our cart is out of juice. We begin to push it up the hill. Then, in one of those moments of beer window clarity, we look at each other and say, "Is this your cart?" "No, this is not my cart." "Screw it, let's walk." (Real teammates would have sent a cart out to pick us up, but every body was digusted with us for peeing on just about every hole.

I put my sticks back in the car. Don't have much time, as Susan and I have dance lessons at Triton College. I'm in the golf shop, looking at the merchandise, when, in walks the man HIS OWN SELF. Larry Lujak.

I am not shy. I stride up to him (he is much taller in life than he sounds on the radio). "Larry Lujak," I begin.

"Nice shirt," he snarls laconically (Gary Stanton had presented me with an animal stories shirt, special order for this event).

"You misrepresent the facts."

"Yes, I do," he said, taking demonic delight with the direction our conversation is descending into.

"Well, sir," says I, "my friends had two questions for you. Number one, 'Do you count all your stokes?'"

He too carded a 101. I don't give him a chance to answer, "Aw, what the hell, you had to have counted most of them."

"Next question?" he asks.

"Can you tell me, whatever happened to Sparky the Bull?"

And now his lower lip curled with a quiver of delight, delight in the soul of one who has known a lot of sadness, the infinite sadness of being. "Sparky is alive and well," he advises.

"Good, says I," knowing our conversation is just about ended. "Is it true that lightning always strikes twice in the same place?" I leave him with that. And another ounce of sardonic delight emerged through those layers of sadness, and depression, the eyes, dark and deep set into the forehead and skull.

We parted. I had had my two minutes of fame. I was sated.

PART I: THE END.

Monday, May 30, 2011

In Memory of "The Judge" Randy Spires, my 1969 Streator, Illinois Classmate all those years





In Memory



Randy Spires

Randy lost his battle with cancer in 2003. Rest in peace Randy.
 
 
Article from the The Times-Press February 28th, 2003
Judge Randolph Spires & Mark Panno August 1999
Randy at the 20th Class Reunion. We miss your smile Randy.
 


  


02/11/09 06:53 AM#1    
Randy was a great guy who became a top prosecutor in Livingston County and later a judge. He died of throat cancer.

02/16/09 10:29 PM#2    
Randy was a good judge and a good friend. I was walking through Daley Center Plaza in Chicago about 15 years ago when I heard someone call my name. It was Randy! Somehow he recognized me. I think he died around 2004.

03/01/09 08:20 PM#3    
Randy was a wonderful friend to everyone he knew..his passing has been very hard for us all..it's hard to understand how our Father in heaven needed Randy more than his family and friends....but we must trust God and know His plan is best.....goodbye my dear friend..knowing you was such a joy..see you gain.....love..Marjie....6/1/09..Randy...there is a tribute video now...the song is so beautiful but so hard to listen to...seeing your face...remembering you...Randy..I miss you so much...not a day goes by that I dont think of you...you were such a part of my years at SHS...the silent pain I endured..you now know why...Im tryin Randy to keep the happiness in my heart...askin you to keep a watchful eye on me..need an angel on my shoulder..know you are there...can feel your hand on my shoulder...can see your smile..can hear you whisper..to never give up...live each day and smile even thou my heart maybe breaking....will do Randy..promise I will do that..will smile thru my fears and sorrows...the sun will come shining thru..life is still worthwhile...if I just smile...smile......just smile.....love...Marjie

03/02/09 08:39 AM#4    


03/10/09 08:25 PM#5    
Randy and I attended schools together maybe not as best friends but I like to think we were in essence. He worked very hard to achieve his goals and conquered most of them except one. Bravo Mr. Spires you!ll be missed by all you touch or talked to, see you later my Friend may you rest in peace forever more save a spot for us in heaven. Respectively Terry Niles

03/26/09 06:40 AM#6    
i was so very sorry to see randy's passing. it's just one more tear for our class.

 
04/07/09 10:45 PM#7    
I always enjoyed your smile and sense of humor. It is a great loss that you left us so early. You are truly missed by all.
Linda


 
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09/23/09 07:31 PM #17    
I met Randy the first time in Junior High when he rode his bike to Mary Beth Bedekers. His friend Tom Hanway had a crush on Mary Beth and they came over to see her. He was always in for a good time. Since he went to Oakland Park and I Northlawn I would see him during the school week when he came over for band. Diann and I had a crush on a certain boy that was a friend of his and he use to deliver notes to him for us. Boy were we bold in those days.

I saw him again in 1999 at a High School awards banquet. My son was president of National Honor Society and introduced Randy as the speaker at their awards banquet. Afterwards I went up to him and said hi. He had no idea who I was until Doug Murray told him, he came over to talk afterward.

His address for the evening was so Randy. He talked about all the things he didn't do in High School that he wished he would have and how the students could achieve what they set out to do. He probably made a greater impact on those students with his honesty, because he gave them hope that some of them thought they didn't have.

The year he died I had the previlage to work with Tammie Panno so I knew a little of what was going on with his illness. Randy was an inspiration to all who knew him.

08/27/09 12:20 PM #16    
I just read the tribute to you Randy. May you rest in peace. Gerry talks about the many good times that the two of you had in the old Vermillion/Monroe Street neighborhood. He was just telling me the other day how lucky he was to be able to go places with your family. My heart goes out to your mom to know her pain of losing a son. To you, Randy....

08/23/09 02:35 PM #15    
Rest in peace old friend. you are truly missed.

08/22/09 11:02 AM #14    
Just viewed this lovely tribute to Randy...Mark and Randy were the best of friends...knew it back in school and I know it now...keep thinking Randy should be here with us...and I try not to cry thinking about it....but in my heart...I do know he is here...he is in our hearts and in our spirts...for that is how he has always been...I miss him...and Mark and Bob...I truly know how much you miss him too...but werent we the luckiest people?...we knew Randy for a lot of years...we shared so much with him...and the day will come when the great Class of 69 will be together again...Randy is there waiting for us...so lets just smile...have fun at our reunion and most of....remember this lovely man...he was our friend in life...and in death...heres to you Randy...you are with us always....love....Marjie

08/22/09 10:32 AM #13    
Randy and I were also great friends. I went to the same Methodist Church that him and him mom did. I'll never forget the smiles, the warmth, and the love that he had for all of his friends and especially his mom. He made me smile just by the twinkle in his eyes. He was always respectful, and his life was fulfilled with a lot of love from all.
Randy, I'll never forget you! Wish you were here to share all of the love and fun from all of the classmates for our 40th reunion. I'm sure you'll be there in spirit! I'll never forget you my friend!
Mona

08/11/09 09:23 PM #12    
Randy-I'll never forget when Doc Schiffbauer paired us together in 1968 for that cheesy revue at Engle Lane. We were a couple for about 5 scenes. We were more like oil and vinegar! The most memorable was when we had to sing Slow Boat to China. You had to hold me in your arms and were supposed to romantically gaze into my eyes, but you made the most awful faces to try and make me laugh in front of the audience! As soon as we got off stage, I would slug you in the arm-hard. Doc was not pleased. You know, to this day, I remember every word of that song and still think of you. Let me sing it to you one more time...

"I'd love to get you,on a slow boat to China, all to myself alone.

Get you and keep you in my arms ever more.
Leave all your lovers weepin on a far away shore.

Out on the briny with the moon big and shiny
Melting your heart of stone
I'd love to get you
On a slow boat to China all by myself alone"

I miss you Randy and wish I could slug you in the arm for old time's sake. Love...Pam

06/02/09 02:10 AM #11    
Randy had the sweetest smile and the querkiest sense of humor. I was glad to hear he had married and become a father. That was so important to him. I imagine he is entertaining the angels with his antics. It was a pleasure to say I was a friend of his, even if for just a short time. Sadly missed but remembered with love. Always - Pam

04/16/09 10:19 AM #10    
Randy passed away on February 27, 2003 after a six month battle with cancer. I was with him till the end, that sad Thursday morning. He fought hard and was strong mentally, with that Randy sense of humor, until the end. Randy and I were friends since we were ten years old running around Riverside. I could not have been any prouder to call him a life long friend. He achieved his professional goal to become a judge. But, more importantly, he achieved his goal to become a great husband and father to his three children. He is missed but never forgotten.

Mark

04/16/09 12:24 AM #9    
Dolph old buddy,

Wherever you are, I played your favorite song, "The Sound of Silence", on this website in your honor tonight.

Mo

 
04/08/09 12:22 PM #8    
I go way back with Randy - he went to the Methodist Church I attended long before high school. We enjoyed Vacation Bible School and MYF meetings and Sunday School.
He always used to make me laugh from across the table in Sunday School when I should have been paying attention to the lesson. He will be missed by the Class of 69' and I have been blessed by knowing him.

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Friday, May 20, 2011

Streator High School's Very Own Reminder: This site will be down for maintenance starting at 1 a.m. EST Toni Ragusa (Abdnour)



Toni Ragusa (Abdnour)



Attending Ice Breaker?    Yes

Last Updated:    October 5, 2009

Residing In:    15 Imperial Drive
Streator, IL 61364 USA

Telephone:    815-672-5808

Spouse/Partner:    Married to John Abdnour, May 1977

Homepage:    www.serendipity527.etsy.com
ilovelucy5@yahoo.com

Occupation:    Homemaker

Children:    Erica, born 1985......Publicist and Freelance Promoter, living in Chicago.

Birthday:    May 27, 1951

Comments:    The class booklet is completed, and will go to the printer tomorrow. Along with the typing, formatting, composing, and proofreading came the reading of all of your stories. Not only did I read, I appreciated. Forty years after graduation is a long while in which to partake in life......to "trust in our dreams". As I read, I smiled to see some dreams realized, cried to know that sadness was evident in most, and let myself be inspired by others' gifts. The candidness of most allowed me to feel good about being "just a housewife", which is what I have done for the past 32 years. I've also been a mom to Erica, which is my greatest achievement to date. She teaches me everyday what it is to be extraordinary. And after that gentle nudge out of the nest 6 years ago, I knew she would take her place in the world as she should, flying at her own speed, directing her own path. What is truly remarkable about life is that we never stop learning, even after major changes occur. I have learned through this website and through your profile sheets just how strong and capable our class is.....a great class, accomplishing far more than we knew we could so many years ago. Thank you, Class of '69, for being my energy forty years later, and for realizing that life is full of nice surprises...that high school was not the only place for them to happen.





This is Erica, my daughter and Cubs Buddy. This was taken last Mother's Day at Wrigley Field. The day was miserable, weather-wise, but the Cubbies won!!


And this is my Traveling Buddy of 32 years, John! Picture was taken in Santa Fe, New Mexico last Fall.


40th Class Reunions can be fun! John's certainly was last October.


There are many memorable moments in one's life, but this moment can be summed up in one word, "RELIEF"! I think we're pretty proud also.


Celebrating Erica's 24th birthday in Chicago, March 2009


Erica was the BULLDOG while a senior at SHS, Class of '03.


Happy Birthday to me.....Erica's gift was tickets to a night game at Wrigley in late May.


Remember Joleen Cass? This is a life-long friendship going on 50 years now. We see each other often for a gal day. Remember her laugh? Yep, it's still there!


Maui, '08


Petting a kangaroo is a must in Australia.


Toni meets Koala....can't help but smile.


Sydney Opera House in the distance.


John and I in New Plymouth, New Zealand.


Countryside of New Zealand as we drove north to Auckland.


Setting in New Plymouth, New Zealand.....where they filmed "The Last Samurai".


Wine Vineyard near the Tasman Sea in New Plymouth, New Zealand. Loved the sweetness of the grazers, just a few of the thousands that we saw.


Here is a cheeky kookaburra....adorable, isn't she? Remember the song, "Kookaburra sits in the ole' gum tree..eeee...."


Evening sky in Auckland.


My favorite. It's one of those feel-good pictures that doesn't need an explanation.


Doesn't this picture just make you want to smile? Hope it does the same for you! Took it this past Spring while a family of robins nested on our front porch. Enjoy the sweetness of this little chick.


 


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05/28/10 05:50 PM #37    
YOU CAN DO THE FUNKY CHICKEN!!!
I knew it..I knew it all the time..

05/27/10 05:07 PM #36    
 Happy Birthday Toni!  I'm returning the favor of when you jumped out of my birthday cake.


05/27/10 09:06 AM #35    
Have a great birthday Toni..and remember on your journey..friendships mean more and more as the days and years go by..dreams..memories..family..and friends..I'd say.. 
 it is a good life all in all.....love..Marjie 



05/27/10 07:52 AM #34    
  
Toni, Toni, Toni, Da Boys an I
Vant to Vish Ya, Ah Hoppi Burtday...
So Ya Betta Injoy Da Day, Oh Else...
Signed Da Godfadder...

05/26/10 11:01 PM #33    
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TONI!!!
JUST WANTED TO SEND A SMILE YOUR WAY..
THINKING HAPPY THOUGHTS OF YOU..
TIME FOR SOME GIRLS GETTIN TOGETHER..AND JUST HAVIN  FUN!! 


01/04/10 07:41 AM #32    
Toni, thanks for the well wishes. If I can fulfill them this year I will be a happy woman!

11/25/09 12:21 AM #31    
Toni...love the cute chick pic...how sweet is that...how beautiful the most simplest things in life can be...cant help falling in love with that..you have captured that beauty for all of us to see...every so often I come back to your profile just to look again at these wonderful pics...you write great words...and you take great pics....have a great Thanksgiving!



10/06/09 06:03 PM #30    
Toni,

Loved the pic of the sweet little robin chicks. Always puts a smile on my face to view these kind of pics.

10/04/09 03:52 PM #29    
Hey Toni, how are you? Can't believe it's been a month since the reunion. Thank goodness for this website to keep us all in touch. After 40 years, it would be a shame to lose touch with old friends again. I was just looking over your photos on your profile. I hope you have enlarged some of the ones from New Zealand and hung them somewhere that you can enjoy them over and over. They are gorgeous. Have a great week.

 
09/18/09 01:21 AM #28    
Toni...your ears and arms are always open for me....you always understand what is in my heart...you are there whenever I need a friend..you listen and that lets me hear my own thoughts...you are never too busy to reach out when I call you...that means so much to me...do you know this?...I am so glad I came home for the reunion...the icebreaker was just so much fun...I didnt want it to end...when it did...I cried...didnt want to say goodbye...had just said hello a few hours before...this icebreaker was so important to me...you know...I didnt plan to come back to Streator at all...didnt think anyone cared...I wasnt talking to my sister...I listened to a few close friends..they made me look at things in a different way..and by Memorial Day...I knew I needed to change...I am so glad I did..Tony...thankyou for all the tireless work you did for our class...I love the booklet..and yes I see I wrote a lot...but you know...thats me...I love words...they express what my heart feels...our friendship is a great treasure...even tho we werent together in HS...I do remember you there..thankyou for coming into my life now and sharing your special spirit with me...when I think of you Toni...I realize how lucky I am...so very lucky..this is getting long...but just a few more words..ok?..some days...just need a hand to hold...some days...just a hug....some days...a word of encouragement....somedays...just a laugh and a memory....on my "somedays"...there is you!!!

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