From Joyce Gueguen
Ramsey:
Hi Susan, did wonder briefly about your long absence, but remembered about
tax time since you used to do my Mom & Dad's stuff before they died.
Wanted to see how many remembered the Chinese restaurant on Franklin when it was
our old "Odessa Ice Cream Shop" & our family ran it for I can't
remember how many years from April to October. Talk about memories of the
jukebox and marshmallow-chocolate "stirs" (small sundaes in little
Coke glasses).
Jeanene Rodekohr, Susie Bell, Mike Fenner, Tom Mallot - we used to get
in such trouble playing poker with chocolate chips (my Dad called it
"gambling"), chasing each other out the side doors with the wet
counter rag, until my great-grandma across the street who sat by the window all
day would rat on us to Aunt Florence and she would call my Mom. I had such
a crush on Slick Heathman & he didn't even know I existed. I'm sure my
brother can remember how long we used to manage that every summer, & all of
us have our own memories. Joe & I just celebrated our 41st anniversary
- 4 sons, (3 Aggies '83,'84,'86 & 1 TCU Horny Frog '85); 1 daughter (MU
'92); all of them have their Masters, all married, 10 grandkids, oldest 2 are 10
& youngest is 2. Son, Casey, lives in Smithville, MO so we get up there
pretty often. Haven't been back in Lexington since my Mom's funeral in Dec.,
1998 - it was so weird not to have our own house to stay in but the B & B on
South St. (the Parsonage) was nice. Still hate the thought we sold our
house. Still dream of all the old rooms, my folks, all the fun & fights,
& growing up in Lex. Lovella Yates, Ann Fiora, & I used to walk to the
library almost every day in the summer & check out Nancy Drew books or
whatever & lay in the grass at Lovella's house & read until our Mom's
used to call us home. I always knew I wanted to be a nurse so I did ('59
at College of St.Teresa or Avila, now) & still am , at Comal County Health
Dept., giving vaccinations to poor, defenseless kids who have to get them for
school. I taught LVNs for 18
years at UT in Brownsville. Joe
& I are Kansan & Missourian by birth, but definitely TEXAN BY
CHOICE. We live in the Gruene Historic District in New Braunfels & so
far it is still a small town, easy to get around in except in the summer or
"Schlitterbahn Season." We are 3 blks from Gruene Hall (John
Travolta did some scenes there in "Michael") & down the hill is
where all the tourists go rafting down the Guadalupe River. We moved here
after 22 yrs. in Brownsville in 1996 to be near our daughter & family - Beth
& Bill
have 3, 2 of which have Cystic Fibrosis, so we wanted to be
here. Just a little news to add to the next TLC. Glad to have you
back.
From Lucia Cope
Hulston:
Susan,
What a hoot to see an e-mail from you! And what
a wonderful surprise to see how you are keeping everyone connected!! By
looking at the list of this chain letter group, I can only guess how you got my
address. I'm thrilled to death to be on your list now, but would it be
possible for you to send me all the TLC's before this one? I'd love
it!!
So many curious connections to Lexington: one
day my dentist happened to mention that his dad was best friends with a man who
taught at Wentworth. Turned out it was Frank Thompson, Anne's dad.
Another day at that same dentist's office I ran into Mr. and Mrs. Ed
Lee.
I am glad to hear about plans for the Franklin
Hole. It was fun to be on that committee for awhile, as it kept me in
touch with the goings-on thereabouts. My son will graduate next spring
from MU in history; my stepdaughter married last year and we visited her and her
husband in Paris at Christmas, where Lorrie was studying pastries. She
develops recipes primarily for Cooking Light magazine and her husband who has
had a long career in TV journalism, will soon be involved in free lance film
projects. They live in Atlanta. My stepson is still involved in the
music recording business.
Our LHS class of '59 continues with our fine
traditions of getting together every five years, which is always fun. I
cannot believe how good it is to be further connected with Lexingtonians via
your efforts. Thanks so very much.
From Mike
Fenner:
JUST A LINE TO LET YOU KNOW WHAT A GREAT JOB YOU ARE DOING.I KNOW
IT TAKES A LOT OF TIME,AND WORK TO KEEP US INFORMED.I HOPE YOU WILL PUT MY
NAME AND E MAIL ADDRESS OUT THERE.I'D LIKE TO HEAR FROM ANYONE OUT THERE
THAT I'VE LOST CONTACT
WITH. THANKS
MIKE FENNER
oldfen@msn.com
From W.K. and Joan
Waddell:
Please add our email address to your list to receive
the local Lexington
news. Lexington was our home for many years
until we moved away in 1965.
From Shirley Briggle
Miller:
Well, I regret it, but I can't be there for this event. You'll have to
take me over for a reenactment when I come home. When we went to Washington,
we had to give up dinner with the King and Queen of Spain to go early and
have dinner with the Lehrers. No big sacrifice, we had a lot more fun
with Kate and Jim. But tonight we have a dinner for George Bush I --
SMU (Southern Methodist U) gave him their medal or something this afternoon.
It's at the home of Jerry Jones, owner of the Dallas Cowboys. As the society
columnist at The News put it (not original with him), the Jones' house is
what God would build if He had the money.
And all the rest of the week is crammed with this sort of thing . .
. but the main reason is I am chair of
the AAUW Scholarship committee and
we are wrapping that up for the next academic year between tomorrow and next
Tuesday. It will be three meetings, and I can't be gone. But
will be thinking of you.
And remember I asked you if you had anything you wanted to tell Ruth
Bader Ginsburg when I was in
Washington (she performed the wedding), so I
told her you didn't answer! (Editor: Well, what I really wanted to ask her
was where she gets her hair
done.)
More later. Tell your other hello for me. (Editor: By second message
Shirley says she intended to say "Tell your Mother hello for me. I thought
she meant Ken!)
Then later she wrote:
But let me tell you about the Party for George at Jerry Jones house.
This "house" sits on a bundle of
land in the middle of Dallas, and
has had several owners since it was built in the 20s or so. We had
been
there twice before when it had two separate owners, and although each remodeled
and remolded it,
the home still held its Spanish charm. Huge, but
charming.
Then Jerry Jones bought it. He and his wife added 20- to
30-thousand square feet to the house, replaced the flagstone terrace with formal
gardens watched over by cherubs, fountains, marble steps, wide steps, little
steps, grass steps, teeny steps, and symmetrical tree plantings.
Inside
the house they ran marble across the floors and up the walls, and had football
players carved into the
library woodwork. No kidding. There is
quite a bit of disagreement over this new house of Jerry's. Some
that
night thought it was Versailles times two; some Versailles divided by
two.
It was inside that the reception for George Bush the elder took place, and
Bob, my husband, and I finally
got in the extended visit we hadn't had with
him since he left the White House. The other times had been hit and
run.
I congratulated him on the part he played in the birth of his
son (if you think I'm going to take on a father
over his son's public
policies, you're crazy), and he admitted, "His mother grew him
up." He said, as we've
all read, that he gets emotional over the
relationship of son and father presidents. (When he mentioned this
in a
brief off-the-cuff speech at the dinner, he teared and choked up...all of us
applauded our "It's OK.") I said there's not exactly anybody you
can call up to ask what it was like. You don't get much response from the
Adamses any more. Bob asked if he were through parachuting out of
airplanes, and he said no, but he'd made an agreement with Barbara, and
(specific date, I don't recall) -- on his 80th birthday (I think he's 76 now) he
would jump again. He said, "Bar says one way or another, it's going
to be my last jump.
George and I worked on this "we go wayyyy back" routine for a
minute and figured we've known each
other 36 years. I knew I was
pregnant with somebody when we met him, and it turns out to be our
first
child, daughter Lisa. This was before the Republican Party and I
got a divorce over women's rights and
abortion. George has always been
on the side of the former, and on both sides of the latter. This
was
also before he offered us the use of Kennebunkport for a few days one
summer and we turned him down.
But finally we went on down the hill
(steps, steps, STEPS) to the dinner, which was on the tennis court.
Now,
this is just your average tennis court that seats 300 for dinner, plus two
stages, one for the band.
Marines, probably. The flowers would easily
supply five weddings and were magnificent. Even the rich
were saying,
"Omigod, nothing is rented." Not the half-inch gold-rimmed water
goblets nor the crystal
wine glasses nor the china and silver, or even the
silver-studded tablecloths. And certainly not the
silver (and I don't
mean silver-plated) terrines holding the fresh flower centerpieces. Each
terrine
was different. All belong to the Joneses.
But shoot, that was nothing. What impressed me was the tent.
Now, we've done tents. When one works for a newspaper (Bob) and the other
for political candidates (me), you see a lot of tents (well,
houses,
too.) But believe me, this was a TENT. All transparent
plastic, even the three-story high roof. At first it appeared to be permanent,
as it fit perfectly just outside the tennis court's knee-high wall. Yet
even the roof was clean, which is impossible here in Dallas where West Texas
blows in everyday. But it had wide metal girders, chandeliers, spotlights
from the braces lighting every centerpiece.
This tent was the talk of the night. Two of the neighbors (which
include one former governor) said it
couldn't be permanent because it wasn't
there two days before. So after dinner I asked Jerry. He replied,
"It's ours and the Cowboys'," (Uh-oh, tax de-duc-ti-ble)
"We both use it. He said when they had the Tom Landry
"thing," all of Landry's former players were inside the tent on the
field. How would I know. The Dallas Cowboys and I had an
agreement: They don't worry about me, and I don't worry about
them.
It was a fun party, though. The Secret Service checked (and I
mean checked) us in, and the valet
parkers got us out. But I'm going to
suggest to Jones that he widen that driveway.
. . . And I hope the
ceremony tomorrow is nice andthat you don't cry TOO much. Your daddy gave
a lot to
Lexington, and he deserves this.
P.S. I had to look up "terrine," and it surely doesn't look
right. I THINK Versailles is right, but I won't write it very often, you
know. When the SpellCheck ran down and got to "susan," it
suggested "Psusan."
Editor: And
so we end our most recent sentimental journey to Lexington. Farewell again from
your pitiful scribe,
Psusan
P.S. If you want any back issues, please let me know.
I'll be glad to forward them. Also, please check for your friends' names.
Gremlins get into my computer and steal names from time to time. I think
I have this problem solved, but I'd consider it a kindness if you'd check for
me.