The time of our lives


Lifetime friends from West Point High School had the time of their lives last night when they danced to the very same dance band they did 50 years ago.  No one broke a hip so far as I know and we juked on into the the wee hours (10 p.m. at least).

Then we moved the party to the Hampton Inn and ordered Pizza.  Does anything ever change very much if you grew up in West Point, Mississippi?   (Pictured above from left are longtime friends Carole Higgins Morton, Marie Portera, Norma Clark Atkins, Becky Cooper Angle, Elizabeth Randle Bounds, Beth Hooker Herron, and Linda Hazlewood.)


Above members of the Torquays include Scott Murrah, Tinker Lautar, Jeff Florreich, Bob Marshall, Tom Seagrest, Eugene Bailey, and Susie Marshall.  To us, they were better than the Beatles.



Quite possibly, the classes of 65 and 66 had the most fun.  Those were very good years.


The occasion had a higher mission – to pay tribute to the late Gary Florreich, our classmate and lead singer for The Torquays, the band which provided the soundtrack of our formative years.   Gary died almost exactly a year ago and our gang headed for New Orleans before sundown.  Losing one of our own still stings.

Gary’s brother, Jeff, stood in for him last night and the rafters of Teen Town shook just like they did a half century ago.  It’s a miracle the building is still standing.

Plans are already underway to met again Memorial Day Weekend if we can stand to wait that long.  Special thanks to Bob and Susie Marshall and Tinker Lautar for their work in putting together the time of our lives.

Things your mother never told you


I’ve been hosting Thanksgiving dinner since 1977 when my mother passed away, leaving me to assume the role of “holiday hostess” – much to the chagrin of my poor taste-deprived family and guaranteeing me an annual nervous breakdown. How’s that for a run-on sentence? With less than two weeks to prepare I’d better get cracking.

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Refusing to go quietly!


Next week the class of 65 and all their friends will celebrate the life of one of our own and it won’t be one of those somber depressing affairs.

Gary Florreich (above right) died almost one year ago and the world is strangely quiet since he left..The memories are coming back by the truck load. The good looking guy on left is Scotty Murrah, Fluff’s brother.

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Face your junque


At 1 a.m. I awoke in a cold sweat and proceeded to experience a break down brought on by too many decisions to make and my habit of taking bad advice and the easy way out.

I won’t go into details but suffice it to say I had been spiraling out of control for weeks and had reached the edge if my sanity, if not the universe,  A small puff would have blown me beyond Earth’s gravitational pull, and I would have sailed off to another planet – without my lipstick or my peanut butter – the two things I will never go without.

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Living with gratitude in rough times


Years ago, I began keeping a daily “journal”.  Frankly that’s just a pop culture word for “diary”.  Hardly a day goes by that I don’t use that journal to rant about what needs ranting about and listing all the small miracles – aka blessings – that are imbedded in each day.

At first, I bought expensive leather-bound blank books in which to record my observations, and the things I wrote were designed to make me sound like a cross between Martha Stewart and Ann Landers.

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