The following was written by my late wife Elaine. She wrote a long book, a diary really, from which this is one passage:
The Funny Bunch
The Union Firehouse had frequent dances, sponsored mostly by the Fire Chief, and they “passed the hat” for contributions, to cover costs. The Chief brought good tapes to play, and that was our band. We had unforgettable good times there and we remember those long-gone days very fondly.
Things change, and dances aren’t held there anymore. Now, Dad and I go to Elks Club dances every chance we get. The Elks facility burned down a couple years ago and we attended a dance with an excellent band called Paris, just one of many events to celebrate the grand opening of their brand new facility in March 2001 on the same site.
Because of our good times at dances ever since we moved to West Virginia, I appreciate a new song, “I Hope You Dance,” which is played often on the radio. Lines I can recall:
“And when you get the chance to sit it out or dance, I hope you dance.”
“Promise me you’ll give faith a fighting chance, and dance.”
I love it.
Kitty B’s Luncheon
Kitty was already showing symptoms of Alzheimer’s, and I planned a luncheon at my house for her and all the funny bunch girls. We had a good old time, although bittersweet, when Kitty expressed her dread of what was happening to her. I’ve kept the beautiful note Kitty wrote me later, referring to “the very best birthday I’ve ever had.” We enjoyed special foods and white wine that day, and we joked about the “tipsy lunch ladies” for a long time afterward. Before she died, Kitty had to spend a number of weeks at a nursing home in Greenbrier County.
Our group met most Saturday nights at someone’s house. We brought our own steaks or hamburgers and a covered dish, and the host broiled the meat.
We treasured great times for several years before we began to lose them: I played for four of their funerals and Charlie and Madeline moved to Florida. But the group was all wonderful while we had it. It was the closest, most fun group we ever were part of, and I never expected that we, who moved here from Virginia, would become part a “tight” Union group.
One night at our house, one of the guys passed his empty plate down the table for someone to put some salad on it. Whoever helped him, put one cherry tomato exactly in the center of the plate and passed it back, without a word. The guy looked at it a minute without reacting and then said, deadpan: “May I have the House dressing, please?”
Everything was fun in those Funny Bunch days.
To be continued…
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About the Author: RD Blakeslee is a nonagenarian in West Virginia who built his net worth by only investing in that which can be enjoyed during acquisition and throughout life, as opposed to papers in a drawer, like stocks and bonds. You can read more about him here.
Photos: Courtesy of the Blakeslee Family
During those years Elaine and I developed our own dance step: a variation off the waltz with a rest(s) inserted to make it fit with whatever beat was actually playing. We started out together and, keeping our special timing, twirled and separated, “waltzing” off, each to another part of the dance floor, then back together again in preserved synchronization. Not hard to do, but it looked like it was. Reminds me of Johnny Ray’s song:” I am the Great Pretender”.
All of the “funny bunch” are now gone, except for one couple who are ten years or so younger than the rest of us, and me.
Advice: Make good memories while you can. They will be precious, late in life.
Thanks for sharing Mr. Dave. So true about the memories. The best friends I’ve had in life are all long gone.
A woman had a squirrel problem in her attic. Someone told her to put Old Spice up there, and it would drive out the squirrels. She loaded up small water balloons with Old Spice, and tossed them into the attic. It Worked! On a warm day, the house smelled like a meeting at the Elks Lodge.
I love reading Chronicles of Elaine. If these were ever to be published in book form, I would certainly purchase it. Thank you for sharing.
Me, too, Ellen! But then Dave probably knew that already. 🙂
Mom — “Elaine” here — truly was a remarkable and wonderful woman. Many times when I visited, I met some of their friends, including the people mentioned in this story. Charlie was a mess — I often didn’t know when he was kidding, which is particularly ironic given that his last name was Kidd.
Anyhow, Dad — “Grandfather” here — is doing a great job editing her stories, and I’m happy to report that both Mom’s and Dad’s books are indeed in progress.