Rex Patrick Stevens, Memories

Pat Stevens, 1960

Today’s View on the Sociology of High School

I’m old enough now not to be as shy as I was when I was at East High.  It’s interesting, though, isn’t it, how social class, “popularity,” and even personal automobile styles influenced class status. Same these days, I’m sure.

Oh well, I’m not going to be sending an award-winning “reveal,” but I have begun to realize that we in the 1960 graduating class, those of us still alive, with enough fingers left to type, are Senior Citizens.  Interesting to me has been one of the profound gifts of such age: the rearrangements nature has done to our memories.  Much of what I recall of my (our) days at East High were not about classroom detail but, instead, secret gifts from our teachers.  Mr. Marconi, for example, left us with a love of wood-working, the dangers of power tools, and, of course, chisels.  We may all recall mishaps resulting in injuries in such shop classes, and perhaps even with machines in sewing classes.  

In math classes, especially, our notebooks were filled with scribblings much more important to us then than later in college science, math, and engineering classes.  Sometimes these diamonds of knowledge remained beyond classrooms, became so habitually part of us, like time itself, that we rarely recalled which of our teachers gifted us with them.

I think activities at the Hangar and other such regular social occasions were good for mind/body exercises. Later in the evening, the unofficial activities began with dragging Douglas between two iconic drive-ins, each on opposite sides of the river.  For males without the magnetism necessary to find opposite gender companionship, Dragging Douglas, was an acceptable alternative, and in some ways, less risky.  Not being “popular,” for whatever reasons, saved many of us from all kinds of 1960’s embarrassments. 

The “sociology” of high school, though not understood by most of us at the time, was an important part of our lives at East High.  Boundaries were more clearly defined than they would be later in our lives. I remember how important wearing the leading brands of blue jeans became. One day, Lee Riders failed to meet the high standards of the major competitor whose brand name I cannot recall, probably because of having to settle for an imitation, maybe from Sears.

These days I do not wear blue jeans.  I live in black sweatpants and shirts on sale from I don’t know where.  Do I, a retiree, care about outfitting myself with name brands?   I never did, not even when I, one of the school photographers, had my own secret dark-room-hideout just a few steps from the south parking lot. That was cool enough for me.

Athletics

 I recall the walls in the basement of the main building where we could see the photos of the sports teams by year and sports.  I took my two sons there once when I was home. We searched and found photos of my brother Phillip who’d been a member of the Cross Country team (1959-1960) as I recall and Tom Vosper’s photo among those on the swimming team.  The coach of those teams, Bob Timmons, was hired away by K.U. He was the best swimming coach around. My friend Vosper was one of his lettermen.

Favorite Teachers

Mr. Agnew, Sheet Metal; Mr. Marconi, Wood Working; and my favorite and most influential,  Mr. Michener, Chemistry (at left)

It’s strange that I cannot recall the names of my math or history teachers.  I do remember how much I hated gym classes.  

 

Classmates I Remember

Among the athletic stars in 1959-1960, I remember Greg Long, a 100 and 220 yard track star who was also a favorite of the cutest girls in the class. 

There were others, of course, whom I recall now only in bunches which appear mysteriously like Schrodinger’s Cat. Example: Fred Freeman and Fred Elder.

Christmas 1959

A photo of me, my twin brother Philip on the left, and our cousin Kathrina Bengsten in the middle on our grandfather’s farm near New Gottland, KS (McPherson) on Christmas Day 1959. The rabbits were innocent victims from a field adjoining the south of the farm house.

Did we have hasenpfeffer for Christmas dinner? No. I wish they’d have prepared some with the rabbits we’d brought back after our hunting expedition. Our Swedish family had a traditional dinner with Grun Korv, a stew of barley and shredded pork with Swedish seasoning.   I recall there were chopped onions and hints of a couple of other spices available only at the Swedish groceries in McPherson and Lindsborg.  This stew was simmered until, as farm folks said, “the cows come home.” The one o’clock feast would last an hour and a half, usually, with dessert afterwards: some sweetened cranberry concoctions.  Sorry, but I forgot to mention Lutefisk, the special dish for the elder native-Swedes who said things like “Varsa Gu” in their official New Gottland Swedish-Lutheran accents. 

Photos Bring Back Memories

I chose the Christmas 1959 photo partly because I thought a few of our classmates might recognize one or both of us.  Sorry no recent photos of me. Just generic shots of an old man.  I do need to explain that my twin brother died from burns in a fire at his workplace in 1963.  He and Tom Vosper were close friends working together at a car dealership downtown.  I was in the Air Force stationed at the time in a remote site in the mountains of Northern Luzon.  I made it home on emergency leave shortly before Phillip died at Wesley Hospital not long before Christmas. It was a painful flight and homecoming, for sure.

Echoes of the Past

I hope what I’ve sent will be interesting to my classmates.  Many memories arise from these excavations.  So, I’m glad that Fred Elder persisted in his efforts to convince me, and others, to submit a few memories from high school years.  I confess that I remember, now, many more than I’d imagined I could. 

The More Recent Past and Present

I retired from an academic administrative career as Vice President for Academic Affairs at four different institutions.  Prior to that I was a Professor of Philosophy at Mercer University. I earned my PhD in Philosophy at Washington University in St. Louis.  These days, I am retired and living with my wife Jimmie in scenic northwest Arkansas. I’ve given away or sold all my guns. We enjoy life with our Border Terrier Brodie, who is a real joy. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cheers!

Rex