tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1895366599144500963.post4927052094479051647..comments2023-05-10T06:44:20.497-05:00Comments on Exile in Goyville: An Eric Stevens giveaway!Steve Brezenoffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17974929351763422930noreply@blogger.comBlogger8125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1895366599144500963.post-6480714401441411072009-08-20T19:23:29.740-05:002009-08-20T19:23:29.740-05:00I am Sue's neighbor and a librarian, so if I w...I am Sue's neighbor and a librarian, so if I win the books, I'll donate them to my library.<br /><br />My favorite memory from high school was being in marching band for homecoming 1970. I was a sophomore and played the flute--third chair--third seat (2nd from the end). On beautiful fall mornings we got out of school to march outside. We also got to march on the football field where we practiced the formations--a moving wheel and the letter H for Huron High School (South Dakota). The best part were the uniforms--black worsted lined pants and a matching double-breasted jacket with epulets. The outfit was complete with black shoes, spats and a wooly cap that was at least 18" high!! Do they even make uniforms like that anymore?Isle Librarianhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10914045581978328815noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1895366599144500963.post-82032767483950890252009-08-19T10:11:32.262-05:002009-08-19T10:11:32.262-05:00I was on the speech team and each weekend we would...I was on the speech team and each weekend we would go to another school and compete. Of course the other schools were not familiar and we were always lost trying to find the right classroom to be in for our category. I read a piece from a John Saul novel.I think it was "suffer the children" Look! I can walk the backstop!MoonDoghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11707506968348810606noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1895366599144500963.post-6205963130649148732009-08-19T09:09:42.136-05:002009-08-19T09:09:42.136-05:00During a high school band trip, my two best friend...During a high school band trip, my two best friends (Mike & Chuck) and I developed what we thought was a James-Bond-quality system for messing with our bandmates.<br /><br />We would drop in to their hotel room "just to hang out." Under cover of a series of undoubtedly obvious and awkward distraction techniques, we would each execute a time-tested hotel-room prank:<br /><br />I would turn the peephole in the door around (easier than you might think).<br /><br />Mike would take the microphone component out of the telephone receiver (the victim could hear the caller, but could not be heard).<br /><br />Chuck would empty the bathroom of any and all toilet paper and kleenex (why he came to the room with an empty backpack and left with a full one was never questioned).<br /><br />Our missions accomplished, we vanished into the night like... well, like three high-school saxophone players all coked up on Mountain Dew.John Westhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09081053433422606602noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1895366599144500963.post-55203978928099138252009-08-17T09:10:37.103-05:002009-08-17T09:10:37.103-05:00When I was 5, I played soccer. Can you imagine li...When I was 5, I played soccer. Can you imagine little munchkins swarming around a ball no matter where it went on the field? No concept of passing? Ah, there we are. Well, eventually the ball was kicked out of the swarm and it hit me squarely in the face and bounced off in another direction. The swarm turned to follow the ball and I stood there crying. No one came to the rescue or called time out and I couldn't understand why. I was clearly hurt! It hit my FACE! <br /><br />And that's how I learned you can use your head in soccer.<br /><br />Cari neohippy10 at hotmail dot comCarihttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02977756711641380540noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1895366599144500963.post-20450042399973008892009-08-15T20:18:59.694-05:002009-08-15T20:18:59.694-05:00Worst memory from the high school choir trip (same...Worst memory from the high school choir trip (same choir trip as above): getting pressured into joining the "how many people can be stuffed into the Greyhound bus bathroom" game. I was number 18 and I totally freaked out from claustrophobia, screaming so loudly that the chaperones came running. Everyone got in trouble. Not cool. (If I win I'll donate the books to our new community library.)Susanhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15299934855153246856noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1895366599144500963.post-47038083273062497032009-08-15T15:46:48.347-05:002009-08-15T15:46:48.347-05:00Least favorite memory from the high school choir t...Least favorite memory from the high school choir trip - Susan's male friend, receiving a "snuggy" from the seniors; worried I would be next, feeling like the world was full of aggressive mean people, feeling bad for him.<br />Tom Brackensenor trouthttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12839870613661869677noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1895366599144500963.post-71373779839570144392009-08-13T15:29:01.902-05:002009-08-13T15:29:01.902-05:00I should probably add that he was a white man.I should probably add that he was a white man.Bethhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07829366002406983984noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1895366599144500963.post-90575658554756505292009-08-13T15:27:00.904-05:002009-08-13T15:27:00.904-05:00I'm your wife, but I'm going to enter anyw...I'm your wife, but I'm going to enter anyway (what? there aren't rules!), and if I win, I'll donate the books to my elementary school library. <br /><br />So here's a thrilling memory from my elementary school choir, circa around 1987 or so. We were learning how to breathe properly, from the diaphragm instead of the chest. And our choir director goes, "Now, I know you girls like sticking out your chests, but you have to breathe with your stomach." We were seven! Strangely, I think about that moment quite often. (This is the same guy who once punctuated a story about his adopted (African-American) daughter, on Martin Luther King Jr. Day if I remember correctly, by saying she was happier when she stayed with some also-African-American friends because they ate food black people liked. Oh! That kind of food. Oy.)Bethhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07829366002406983984noreply@blogger.com