tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7386029617300356438.post8126638651958188156..comments2023-10-28T08:26:16.309-07:00Comments on Journey back to Woodson: How much do people really change?Mike Rappaporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15648005587039671935noreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7386029617300356438.post-29120467405640897862008-01-26T12:04:00.000-08:002008-01-26T12:04:00.000-08:00Some of us found our voices long after high school...Some of us found our voices long after high school. It would be fun to see what it would be like today, how experiences shaped those voices. I agree that the quieter ones may not be as quiet today. <BR/><BR/>Funny story(in a long line of embarrassing stories) that involved Karen Theurer, Mike. <BR/><BR/>I agree with you that she was drop-dead pretty. And she was best friends with another pretty girl, Janet Thornton. Both lived up the street from me in Kings Park.<BR/><BR/>I borrowed Bob Coulter's Honda Super 90 one summer evening and asked Karen to come with me for a ride. Bob Fern had asked Janet Thorntonto ride with him. We were at a neighborhood pool party when all this came together. <BR/><BR/>We were not a mile away from Kings Park when we were pulled over by the police. Apparently someone was assaulted at the pool, and the police thought we were involved. We were not, but the police though for certain that they had arrested the right people. <BR/><BR/>They put Karen and I in one cruiser, and Bob and Janet in another. Back we went to the pool. <BR/><BR/>As we were sitting inside their parked cruiser children were coming up to the window, pointing fingers and commenting that the police had gotten their man. <BR/><BR/>I recall Karen thought this was exciting as can be, but I was sweating bullets. Among other things, I had forgotten to take the key out of the ignition of that Honda. It was parked on the street, outside of the development, and I was wondering what my good pal Bob Coulter would think of lending me his motorcycle and it was gone when I returned.<BR/><BR/>It took about 20 minutes to get the story turned around. After the assault, involving guys on motorcycles, we just happened to be leaving around the same time and witnesses described the last motorcyle they saw, which just happened to be the four of us. <BR/><BR/>The police took us back to the motorcycle. Luckily both were still there. The police laughingly told us the ride was on them. <BR/><BR/>We road through Burke and West Spriingfield, and had a great time, with one exception. <BR/><BR/>The Honda engine was started using a kick start. Unfortunately the kick start had fallen off. When I stalled out an an intersection, I had to ask Karen to get off. I had to run the bike across the intersection and jump start it, then ask Karen to jump back on. She was a good sport about it all. <BR/><BR/>I only saw Karen once after we graduated, at a reunion. It may have been the 20th. She still had that smile that just lit up her face.<BR/><BR/>To Nan's comments about feeling like oddballs, I can't say I felt that way. I can say that I hoped to " fit in " and that caused me some problems but they were always of my doings. <BR/><BR/>I never felt like an outcast either. Awkward, sure. Not very confident, true enough. Not wishing to attract too much attention, that is certain. Sort of living under the radar, enjoying things as they came along, with absolutely no big picture in mind or clear idea of what was coming next. <BR/><BR/>I guess that's who you are when you are 17-18yrs old. It takes so long to get a better sense of what you want, what you can give, and who you would like to be as you get older.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7386029617300356438.post-55427742319259855302008-01-25T12:09:00.000-08:002008-01-25T12:09:00.000-08:00maybe we all FELT like oddballs, then.i had my hor...maybe we all FELT like oddballs, then.<BR/>i had my horse and a few friends i liked to go riding with.<BR/>i vaguely remember you.<BR/>heck...<BR/>mostly, i remember how little time we had to get to our next class.<BR/>and then, our classes usually only had a few people i would know? from my other classes.<BR/>sorry, if i mis-read your words.<BR/>i guess i need to learn to understand how we each try to reach out.<BR/><BR/>nan.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7386029617300356438.post-73799215400772737592008-01-25T11:00:00.000-08:002008-01-25T11:00:00.000-08:00I was sort of an outcast then, Nan.I was sort of an outcast then, Nan.Mike Rappaporthttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15648005587039671935noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7386029617300356438.post-37921190076555857542008-01-25T06:30:00.000-08:002008-01-25T06:30:00.000-08:00maybe you are the outcast now...i remember the col...maybe you are the outcast now...<BR/><BR/>i remember the collegiates vs the greasers and all those in between.<BR/>it sucked then and it sucks now.<BR/><BR/>welcome to the age of aquarius.<BR/><BR/>just nan.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com