Driving Central b/4 leaving Wichita with nostalgia & severe ADD: retainers, grinding, Collegiate, work, money and food. Wichita, 2003.

Jan 22 2012

Driving Central b/4 leaving Wichita with nostalgia & severe ADD: retainers, grinding, Collegiate, work, money and food. Wichita, 2003.

by admin

I was driving along Central after dropping off a little manila slip, first payment of $200, and a copy of my insurance card due to a little problem with my right foot engaging with a pedal. I think this time I am going to blame it on the fact that I’m confident my right leg is a tiny bit shorter than the left. So it’s always reaching out there, harder and stronger striving to match up.

I took a few photos of familiar sites and went to the Nifty Nut House for a few things.I feel, the Nifty Nut House is the nut roasterie par excellence of this region, if not our nation and the world. And they have chocolate, too.

I feel so at home at the Nut House.

So Paula going to the NUT HOUSE to buy dark chocolate dove bites has already made the usual euphoria totally out-of-hand. But that’s another post.

Okay, here’s the story…

My daughter Lacy had great big beautiful white teeth. And, as one will know that is reaching waning years, they can never be too big. Even Lacy as commented on the fact that her front teeth look a little shorter in her adult life.

Lacy went to high school at Wichita Collegiate. I think Wichita Collegiate was built sometime in the early 60s. Charles Koch and many other benefactors made the school possible. It is a good prep school education in a smaller setting than the Wichita Public High Schools. We chose in part due to the quality education, but mostly because Jack and Lacy had to commute 60 miles to school and our family commuted hundreds of miles to ball games as towns are few and far between in southwest Kansas. We never saw each other. It was their time to focus on school. But back to Wichita Collegiate, it draws great students from many parts of the City.

Jan Davis, Principal.

At the time Jan Davis came out of retirement from serving most of her lifetime in the Wichita Public School system (superintendent?) to be the headmaster. And we’re not talking Shawnee Mission, not that there aren’t similar issues. Actually, since Collegiate was never a boarding school, Jan was called the Principal. Later Jan retired again, but was pulled back out to serve at the Fundamental Learning Center for which my cousin Gretchen Lee (my Grandmother’s maiden name was Lee) Andeel was one of the Founders and is a grassroots constant worker. I think she has since retired. And then, Gretchen said, has been pulled back out again to serve.

I’m really going off on tangents here, but since I’m moving away from Wichita to another hub, I wanted to mention just a few of these things. I will never “leave” Wichita anymore than I will ever “leave” southwest Kansas or Kansas City. One never leaves a sense of place.

: Jan in ballcap in Homecoming Fancy Car.

Jan was so special to our family. But mostly, she was a fast friend to Lacy, taking the incoming sophomore Country Cowgirl under her wing. And this is the funniest thing I will always remember about Jan.

In 2003, grinding had just entered the scene. Now, I remember pitch black 8th grade dances at Indian Hills Junior High where the teachers (never enough) would circulate a bit during the slow dances. And, I distinctly remember realizing from a personal experience that boys (I had no brothers, just Gina and me) had a sensor on some of them that indicated whether or not they were enjoying the dance. It is not my place to comment on any particular people. Or whether or not this is an appropriate reaction to something as innocent as a little slow dance in a public place on a dance floor. I am not a man and plus, I do not think they are all the same. Well, maybe…

Anyway, as mentioned Wichita Collegiate was diverse and there were some very good grinders on the dance floor in the cafeteria. Lacy said that Jan had taken it upon herself to go out on the dance floor to “break everyone’s hips apart” and make sure everyone kept their hands to themselves, somewhat. I mean, this was a private school!

Later in the year, I asked about how that was going. Lace told me that Jan had “given up,” which is out-of-character for this woman. Upon inquiry, she had just formed a different opinion. Jan said it had caused her too much angst at the dances and that she just resigned herself to seeing it as “safe sex.”

THE RETAINERS, role of money from 2003 to present.

We were definitely pinching pennies (and who isn’t always?) when Lace was at Collegiate. I worked at Schaefer Johnson Cox Frey Architecture downtown. So that pretty much tells the story on my wages. That is, I was heavily subsidized by John Adams and the Adams Cattle Co.It took the entire household budget previously entrusted to me 200 miles east. Actually, I do think I sent home a check for $500.00 so John could buy himself some groceries.

A Word About Meals. This is both to

a) defend myself as I was not at home and hearth making good food for the male Adams, John and Jack

b) to share some Adams food traditions.

And just for the record about my job…

The Wichita stint was not for the purpose of me working for a architectural firm. Don’t tell them, but this was not my forté. They seemed reasonably happy, I guess, as I received raises, they put me in an ad on tv for Exploration Place with Sam Frey, and I attended all the interesting speakers and charity events for the office to which no one else wanted to or could go due to young children, loving every minute. But, reality was I about died in front of that computer. The bulk of my day consisted of doing construction documents and trying to understand mechanical systems & codes for all the Wichita Public School work we were doing at that time. WE WERE THERE FOR LACE’S EDUCATION.

The quote that best sums up my career was from Wade Walker (Gastinger Walker Harden Architects KC and friend and running partner of my father’s). In asking me how work was going, he said “Are you still down there pretending to be an architect?”

I actually didn’t take it personally, as I’m sure all principals in successful firms feel this way when confronted with tedious architectural conundrums which caught them off-guard in some social setting. Business and marketing or schematics and organization of labor skills should supersede them doing CAD drafting 24-7.

In general, architects are generalists though dealing with details. The difference is that in general, they have paid lots of dues that I have not. Kirk and Wade also remind me

a) not to undercharge (hurts them) even though I still have not worked enough time for a licensed architect to have mine. I worked for David Thompson one year and then the economy tanked, office of 10 down to sole proprietor.

b) they also said (which made me feel good) that for the service I am performing, I have had a valuable background in experiences, education (“over-education”), and most importantly incredible client projects, though few.

I feel kind of guilty about this and that I maybe lept over hurdles, but I do need to cut myself a little slack on the ease of marketing myself because where I was living. It was actually amazing I had any work. Of course, I have had zero income in 2011, so what’s my excuse now? Hmmm….other priorities.

So what about your husband and son? Don’t you feel bad? (yes, I heard this on one occasion at a Kansas City Christmas Party and it stabbed my heart as it was holiday season and I would only be home for a day or two). In reflection, I realized the woman was extremely successful in KC real estate, so I realize now that she was probably just wanting to connect. I think it was the second question to which I took offense, “so do you and your husband “swing?”) Once again, I guess there’s a part of KC that has a whole different undercurrent that I have known nothing about.

So, a little bit about feeding ourselves with actual food, now that income has been addressed…

every quarter I would make approximately 50 homemade meals, in foil containers, so that John and Jack could have our family homemade meals 3+ times a week even though Lace and I were away. I won’t get into mine here, but they are Millie Ward’s, Ginny Graves’, gina Lloyd’s and Diane Simpson’s recipes.

THE BASICS: The other nights when not eating my frozen dinners they had John’s specialties.

steak and beans

hamburgers (or cheese) with fried onions. (I do mushrooms, swiss if I have it).

green bean casserole (John adds in some sauteed onions which make it. When he doesn’t have mushroom soup, he invented adding heavy cream as we don’t always have milk but we do have heavy cream. I really like this better as I don’t like soup taste).

fried pork chops with delicious instant mashed potatoes (I also am proud to say that I served these. I like potato buds though John prefers Hungry Jack. I grew up on them and much prefer these artificial ones, they are much creamier. I do little cream cheese which my mother invented. I actually tried to duplicate the smoothness of these one Thanksgiving with my new Kitchen Aid and it was a disaster. They turned to gluten which is what happens with laziness like a mixer you don’t have to hold in your hand and babysit. I’m serious, when I poured them out of the bowl I practically had to take scissors to cut it apart it was like that movie The Blob.

On weekends, Dad’s bacon and egg and fried potato blowout after feeding cattle. John’s trick is putting a heaping tablespoonful of fried bacon grease that I keep in a jar in the frig in with the potatoes.

It is my feeling that one’s father (and then husband) must always make the meanest fried eggs and bacon. And that one’s mother (and then wife) must always make the best fried chicken. The genders can flip, Adams aren’t rigid with that. Jack has learned all the nuances of crisping up the chicken. Lacy, well….I’ll let her tell you the stories but I heard she made a great taco salad for her boyfriend this month and she mentioned something about New Year’s resolutions.

Goodness! I have taken up my time when I should be packing boxes, have not put in a visual, and haven’t made it to the Mexican Fiesta Fiasco. So, this will have to wait a day or two so stay tuned in.

Lace, does this look familiar? I think it was on a Saturday splurging by going out for lunch. I'll tell what I remember but when I do the post this week, you'll have to add the real story.

If you have made it through this (and who cares about all this??), I promise this next one will be funny, short, and with a video on-location. I guess that’s how I got here, I had been to the Nut House and ate all that Chocolate while I was driving down Central taking pictures.

So if you only look at the pictures, here are few from my drive.

: More Wichita Gothic. I don’t know what the crane was for and it’s all I could do to not stop myself, ask questions, and take a video. You can see the ADD with my move is really out-of-control.

: I like St. Mary’s here with the tree at right. I could photograph St. Mary’s in Wichita everyday forever.

: I like this building and statues, have no idea what it is. I think the snowball bushes in front are a great touch.

: I can pretty much find a house I would love to live in, in every neighborhood. See the torquoise…?

: Knew there was a reason why I stopped, had to turn around. I bet the owner or a friend of his made the shutters unless this was some stock thing in another era, but I have never seen any like this.

: Maple Grove Cemetary is really beautiful if you are ever in Wichita. I’m not sure of street, maybe about Central and Hillside. Has stone pillars all around the perimeter.

: This is across the street from the torquoise house. But, I thought it was interesting because, being rural, I love school buses. And, I didn’t really think city children rode on the school bus anymore, so I was curious.By this time, all of the neighbors were, too, about me so I went on my way.

It’s never the end.

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Jan 14 2012

The way to a girl’s…make them laugh, kindness, honesty and killer abs.

by admin

Marcus Allen

The best thing about heaven is that Mark is going to be there and he won’t have aged. I still have dreams about Mark and I’m not sure what awakens me to remember ?? Maybe I shouldn’t say too much more about that, except that at the end I am always laughing. The killer abs phrase is from Marthe whose specific memory is from grasping Mark’s torso from the rear of his motorcycle. He was one of those real guys who drove a motorcycle for the real reason in the 70s which is that no father or family was going to supply him with a car. It was paid for with labor, in Mark’s case, construction for Chuck Stratford as well as measuring with Dave Wood for my father Dean Graves.

Marthe, Mark and I pal’ed around together sometimes. This threesome was in part because we all had volkswagen beetles. A few tangent notes about those:

Marthe’s was lemon yellow and had no radio because Dick Dreher thought that a radio would promotes reckless driving. I think Marthe later thwarted this by hanging a transistor on the temperature control knob.
Mark’s white, I am thinking, was probably his brother’s car or his mom’s that he would have on occasion.
Mine was a 1967 white beetle that had been painted “hippie green” to make it palatable for my older sister, Gina, to drive when she turned 16 in 1974. This was the first “second car” that my parents bought.

a cultural sidenote: Prior to this time, my mother, as did many women, existed by either doing without a car during the day or driving their husband’s car to work so that they could use the car that day for their grocery shopping, to take a child to the doctor, or for their wash and set. Remember that our mother’s mothers still had those embroidered tea towels that said “Monday, ironing, Tues. washing…etc.”.

This was actually pretty common and one of reasons social psychologists explain the sharp rise in divorce of women in the early and mid-70s. Women now had wheels. That is, with freedom of movement, came freedom to work. As men lost physical control over women, they lost control over the children and that is when our society just went straight to hell, at least as some may see it.

Plus, vacuum sweepers and all the appliances (supposedly) meant there was less housework for women (NOT) to goof around and go buy stuff. Or, in the case with the women in my family, to go do some work other than housework which used their education so they could make money to have a little fun using their own cash and pay someone else (provide another woman with a job) to do the work for which they now needed help.

so back to car cultural sidenote: I don’t really believe that the car was the downfall of men’s and women’s societal roles. Barbie may not have had or wanted a Dream House, but in my mind there was always a Barbie throughout history who had her wheels, even if it was in her mind.

…and back to volkswagen beetles: One time in the SME parking lot we put all their noses together for a kiss. Mark was kind of joint property, even among the best of women friends. And the laughing we all would share….a man among men and a stud among women, both liking him equally well.

And back to Mark. Mark’s mother, who raised two wonderful sons alone, had to have been an incredibly strong and independent woman. The only memory I have of Mark speaking of his father was a memory about A.I.’ing cattle in Texas with him one summer as a young boy. A.I’ing is artificially inseminating. So, I now think this is interesting and curious, having lived on a ranch.

Mark related notes

My life is recorded through notes to my mother and kept them all. If I wrote a note to my parents telling them where I was and with whom, and this guy was responsible and watched my back, I had very a long leash. Mark spent a lot of time hanging out at our house and staying for dinner, long after our brief period of dating. My family thoroughly enjoyed him.

Mark was hanging around at my house the night of the Kansas City Flood. While we were at the top of 67th St. (a relatively high point), a later addition to our house prior to a later drain caused a foot high lake of water in front of our home. Mark helped my father release the floodgates by opening the garage and bucketing thousands of gallons of water from the front to the back of our house. A good man.

Prom '77: he's got the body stance, the tux, and I'm still quite pleased with my dress.

Here is a note from Mark:

Paul Lenard GO AWAY

Contrary to what everyone always wrote in my yearbook, I was not that nice. This was a date that I accepted because this is what I thought my mother was telling me was the thing to do. That is, to say yes to the first invitation. I do not agree with this, by the way, and in this case, it is not nice to accept and then to complain dearly about having to fulfill the commitment behind the person’s back, in this case the date with Paul Leonard. I always had a fear of boys liking me for which I had no really jazzy feeling in return if you get what I mean. My daughter explains how to handle this by advising, “even the nice nerdy ones still think there is always a chance. So to be both kind but to not shun an overture of friendship, “you just need to keep clarifying from the very beginning that if you hang out with them nothing is NEVER going to happen.” In this case in hindsight, I realize it wasn’t even an issue. In fact, this is the male company with whom today I am very, if not most comfortable.

Anyway, Mark came over to help me prepare for the dreaded date, and when I went to the door to greet Paul, I found that Mark had stuck this on the front door. As I left, Mark yelled from my parents bedroom (he spent lots of time here with various people when we had parties before tee pee’ing SM South when my parents did their 3 week trip to the southwest every fall), “she doesn’t want to go with you!” and other hurtful things that I maybe had been saying but I really think not that bad but just maybe something like, “I REALLY am dreading going” but regardless now I don’t like to admit to having said or thought mean things or laughed at the much meaner things that Mark (boys in general) said.

I am so sorry Paul Le(o)nard. It was really a very nice date and we went to Pumperniks in Ranch Mart. And I had matzoh ball soup for the first time. I think Paul was Jewish, so that also commemorates this nice date in my mind.

The bunny fleece sleeper

I’m putting in this photo to document that the fleece sleeper Mark wore at the pep club assembly our Sr. Year was mine and link myself with this fame. All of the (football players..??? or was it the basketball yell leaders?) dressed up as cheerleaders and pep club girls. And then Mark arrived in the pink bunny sleeper. Hanging out at the Graves, he’d seen this quite a bit, but I can’t quite remember any preliminary try-on or how he snuck it out of my house. It was quite formfitting on him. Translation: Mark’s @$$ looked great in it, all hard but soft and fuzzy, too.

Mark saw it all with me, was like a brother I never had. The white zit medicine I’d forget I had all over my face when he’d drop by but he’d never mention until I’d been chatting for an hour. Understanding my habit of taping over blemishes so I’d keep my hands off (by this time I wasn’t bothered that he saw this) but then later letting me forget the tape was on my face when I had to go answer the door. (He had no blemishes but I did have a little picking obsession at the time.)

So that is it, or at least a few Marcus “Ottawa” Allen stories. Please post if you have more.

Samouyah, Mark. (“we will meet again” in Taosien).

All the women will be lined up for a kiss, a funny, and those great abs. We have missed you!

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Nov 15 2011

Dennis Morgan and me, Paula: Myra & Ginny’s protegés. Plus partying and architecture, circa 1977.

by admin

Dennis Morgan and Paula Graves having cookies and milk on Graves patio after our houses were built.

Dennis Morgan was my first friend who was a boy. I have this on facebook with the caption, “He’s so dreamy, I think I will just close my eyes and dream…”

This picture was taken just after Bob Wendt, a Kansas City architect of German descent, finished our custom homes. By the way, Betsy Curry lived in a much bigger very neat house designed by Bob Wendt west of Roe south of 83rd St.

They were very unique contemporary ranches:

Post and Beam design: 4×6 posts supporting and rough-sawn cedar timber beams (5′ on center), stained black. (most houses stud framing.
beams exposed with natural pine tongue and groove roofdecking running 90 degrees to wood beams and spans the 5′ o.c. beams
60s “ski lodge” fireplace
walnut stained oak wood floors
flat walnut veneer cabinet doors. the kitchen (north side of house) was so dark that the doors only (still flush set in walnut) were lacquered white to lighten up the room. Lacquer, mind you, being a lost art. Here, it was 11 coats well-done by Bob Falkenberg (also German descent Falkenberg & Son contractor in KC, clients like Annenberg’s, lived in my neighborhood and daughter, Nancy, was one of my best friends at Highlands Grade School).
floor to ceiling glass along patio side.
exposed aggregate patios with wood strips and front walk entry hall

That’s enough about the architectural history of the houses here, let’s just say “they were cool, well-designed, well-crafted, well-done functionally and aesthetically.” And, our mom’s made the cookies. Ginny’s nutty nougat (aka snowballs) is still on the plate.

Jim and Myra Morgan, my neighbors.houses mirrored each other and shared a driveway.

Here is a picture from the KC Star of Dennis’s Dad, Jim Morgan, with the kids. Jim and Myra moved to KC from Alabama. Mr. Morgan at that time was an airline pilot for TWA and Myra was a southern belle and mother of three kids, Dink, Dennis and Denise (Missy). Doo, Jim Morgan’s mother, also lived with them. I’m not sure if this was from the outset or after Myra became busier with the gallery. They both started Morgan Gallery in the 60s after Mr. Morgan had some kind of heart thing while flying and was grounded.

You can google Morgan Gallery, but Myra and Jim had the ins with the art galleries on both coasts in this era taking KC trips to NYC to Leo Castelli’s and Lillian Nassau to buy art and art nouveau. Both were highly creative with all that entails. Jim Morgan collected Arts and Crafts pottery, Roseville, etc. long before anyone else. Their social sphere was fascinating for me, for their friends were quite a bit wilder than the creative-conservatives with whom my parents socialized.

KC Star May 26, 1968. News About Women and Society. Note that Mrs. Jack O'Hara's garden is also featured, so I have included it.

They mention Taffy in the article. Taffy was a really great dog, I don’t know the breed. But I will have to find out. He was a mellow yellow hound of some sort. Very methodically, he would trot around his two joint estates everyday, checking in and on everything. I’ve never had a dog with this kind of temperament, though it’s probably partially due to the owners.

John Buck Sculpture

The sculpture is by John Buck who was a graduate student at the K.C. Art Institute. This sculpture has had a colorful live, witnessing many a deal and an ordeal between the dramas in the Morgan and Graves families in both generations. But, most importantly, it was home base for kick the can. Dennis has the sculpture in storage and he and Dink have said that I can have it. It needs a coat of black paint and rust-oleum mixed together. Dennis told me the recipe.

I had envisioned it on my mountaintop at the XIT Ranch. This is the high point along the Cimarron River at the Crossing to where I would run every day, sprinting the hill for reward of the river view. I am confident that the Plains Indians used this place as a burial ground it is so beautiful. I’m not sure it I would have gotten approval, but I know I could have sneaked in onto this place somewhere.

(excuse me…note to Dennis)

Dennis,

I still want this sculpture, so please don’t give it away if you have not yet already. A bit of a problem is that I may not have any land in the near future where it could be erected. As will getting it from Dick Belger’s warehouse to the proposed site. And, since it’s a fairly permanent installation involving concrete this does need some thought for appropriate context. I think it would look great in Santa Fe and likely no problems with the neighbors depending upon the size of the lot, but I’m not sure yet if I want to be there.

I’d mainly be motivated in this southwest direction because you and I could have a great road trip hauling this thing to someplace west of the 98th meridian. As you can see below, we have a history of wheels and road, inherited from our parents, I guess.

Dennis Morgan and Paula Adams on our bikes. Mine has training wheels.

a) love the picnic tablecloth fabric of my dress, white knee socks with vertical pattern up the leg, and my red Mary Janes. Kudos Ginny Graves. My mother made me!!

b) training wheels into grade school. Dennis, aren’t they on your bike, too? it was scarring to learn to ride without these wheels with my marine corps father. he is such a patient man, but not as patient with lack of coordination and confidence. Seriously, everyone learns differently. If I had had a physics lesson first, I know I would have grasped concept of momentum sooner.

c) Dennis, enough about me, you look great. :), like the mustard and grey combo.

many loving thoughts,

Paula

(end of letter).

Little did I know at the time I would come to know water tanks well...

The above picture was taken getting ready for a Morgan-Graves Circle Party when we were in high school. The beer was iced and stationed in the water tanks on our joint lots.

Dennis’s Crowd vis-a-vis Paula’s Crowd

Dennis ran with a more diverse crowd than I; swimmers, baseball players, and pretty hardcore party’ers, at least in mind. That is, they smoked marijuana, maybe even tried other stuff! Since we were childhood friends, I didn’t really think that much about the fact that we didn’t hang out in the same social (partying) circles. I was cheerleader with jocks, of course.

Prairie Village Pool

We worked together at the Prairie Village Pool and lived next door to each other, so I always felt like we really shared the same friends. So many of us that lived in Prairie Village and swam at the Village Pool had parents (mothers) who insisted that at 15 we would take Red Cross and Lifeguard Training at the Pool. This is so that we would be gainfully employed at sixteen in a 45 hr. 6 day-a-week job that paid rather well (minimum wage adds up when it’s a real work week). Mostly for mothers, we were out-of-the-house.

Dennis and I really shared our friends in a sense. That is, his buddies were always and still very nice to me just as my girlfriends express fond memories of sweet, kind, interesting Dennis. One reason is because our driveway was really the hub for all kinds of Prairie Village people with these party’ing habits, even my jocky SME athlete buddies I was recently told. As usual, all going on around me and my head is in the real clouds.

Parental Control vs. Sense of Place

Back in the day, neither of our sets of parents seemed to care much about legal issues relative to our fun habits as dominates parental fears today. I’m sure philosophy for some was the same as it is for parents now. Knowing your kids were in a safe place was of primary importance; their mischief, a parent could hardly have time to monitor for the parent is usually busy with their own misbehaving. Anyway, I would pass these guys and their row of cars in our very long driveway to get to my garage. It was called “the circle” as the John Buck sculpture is on a round grass island around which the drive circulates. “The Fort” was two lots to the east which was Peter Wilkin’s hub. Peter was the son of another neighborhood architect who attended Highlands but transferred to Pembroke-Hill. This is another story, but “the Fort” brought the private school laddies to the other side of the tracks (Mission Road).

I always felt like a totally square goofball in that d@mn cheerleading uniform and, of course, was and still am.

We were on the way to some birthday party.

I like my dress and mod gift paper, but Dennis is the star fashion icon here.

Such a cool blue plaid with the leather lacing.

And his loafers with the high tongues and white crews are classic.

Old School Preppy goes Wyoming Western.

What the Morgan-Graves were most famous for…GREAT PARTIES!

Our parents had their friends from KC Arts-Social Scene (my parents friends, dad’s clients, Morgan Gallery Clients, Contemporary Arts Society people, Alabama Folks). We invited all of our friends, but I guess it was really open to anyone as people I would meet at KU from SM South would tell me “I was at a party at your house in high school.” There were lights, tamale vendors, the ice cream truck, peanuts, beer, and Riverrock Played on a stage in the gravel rockbed in the landscaping that linked our two houses.

This is excerpts from an email from DWG giving a bit of resumé-history of some of the people pictured clarifying some of my earlier notes I took from our last phone conversation re: people. Exhausts me to get it close to right, so I’m just going to put in his red notes from his email and mine are in black. This is the best Dean and Paula combo with which I can feel comfortable. Apologize to all, I am responsible.

From: Dean Graves <dgraves@cubekc.org>

Subject: Re: id photos

Date: November 14, 2011 3:53:03 PM CST

To: Paula Adams <paulagravesadams@gmail.com>

Wm. T. Wiley, Bob Stark, World’s Greatest Artist

Sam Perkins Pres. of Bank in Olathe in photo just to the right of GG

Eileen and Byron Cohen: Panache (real estate), lived at 61st and Ward Parkway

Jan Pescanofsky and Giles Fowler CLARIFICATION : husband and wife; Giles wrote/reported for KCStar and Maybe Jan , too . Could probably google KCStar 1978July and find something. hmmmm…ignoring that last part Dean, already too many trees in forest…having inherited both parents genepools and talents, I’m not committed yet & would like to remain so. Anyone else? Please post.

Ted Coe…Director of Nelson Gallery, after Lawrence Sickman who amassed chinese collection. [CLARIFICATION : TED CAME FROM CLEVELAND MUSEUM OF ART and after Nelson Gallery moved to and lived rest of his life in Santa Fe Died plus or minus two yrs. ago . Was very much an expert in Northwest American/Canadian Indian Art .] In picture on btm. row just to right of Laddie Hurst Mann. Ted came from back East, who had gallery directorships, into contemporary scene.

Friend

You know, Dennis will always be my best first friend and a boy. We have survived our lives and our wonderful families and mostly the way we are made: two emotional, sensitive, and very shy people.

Shy that wore itself in different clothes but is the same.

Love you Dennis. Tell Nancy hi, her Morgan boys Christmas cards always earn first prize in the card sort each year. I guess we’re all still working the arts gig in one way or another, squeaking out the dollar but doing what inspires us. We have to get the kids together in their lifetimes. Or, maybe they will just cross paths…I bet they will.

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Apr 1 2011

SME Cheerleading and Carolyn Howard: the Sue Sylvester archetype

by admin

Howie Returning with the Spirit Stick, Summer Camp 2006

Coach Carolyn "Howie" Returning with the Spirit Stick, Summer Camp in Marshall, MO,2007

“Cheerleaders’ Travel Pays off; New Cheers learned at camp” by Britt Alexander, photo credits assumed.

WWCD? Another great woman, What Would Carolyn Do?
Jane Lynch had to have shadowed Carolyn Howard, the virgin Queen of the female worker bees of Shawnee Mission East for decades. Carolyn was our gym teacher, and ruled over the women and the women’s country club sports, swim team, tennis team, cheerleading, heralders and pep club. She counted the homecoming votes, she counted the balls, she tallied the grades, and gave us 5 minutes to peel off that wet lancer blue spandex swimwear before the bell rang for our next class. More about her old school fashion in the JV Cheerleaders, but you get her idea, very Betty Grable. Or was that ruching actually just the indentations in our flesh to girdle in our most socially prized teenage assets?

All my sister Gina’s friends turned out to vote for me as a sophomore, so I was one of the two sophs that made JV with Kathy Kindred and that commenced the relationship with Carolyn (see Kathy: The Sophs on JV with Sr. Bad attitudes). She gave me a B that semester in gym but not knowing who I was up against, I questioned the numbers that got passed on via my sister.

“Sophomores who make JV don’t get straight As.”

She ended up changing the grade which I lived to regret.

The Sophomore Cheerleaders, 1975, Carolyn below.

Carolyn was very pretty and had a great sense of humor. And most of all, she was brutal….5:30 am summer practices before work at the Village Pool at 7…the herkies and hamstrings and but always with a heart of warm iron.

Herkies at sunset...on our Kansas beach...

She always stuck with us no matter how spastic we were, the last girl on the tennis ladder (me) still got to play even if she hadn’t mastered her loser’s mindset as she went into the match. She kept me on, when I petered out after one week of swim practice and intense chlorine, giving Marthe, a great swimmer, and me, the quitter, the coveted jobs as swim team managers who passed out the Vitamin C. My hair has not yet recovered from the humidity.

Paula Graves and Sandy Clingan, Scott's sister. Junior McCall's, in McCall's Magazine. 1968.

Carolyn Howard saved her old tennis balls to give to my mother, Ginny Graves, for puppets in her art classes. Here is a published picture of one of these puppets in McCall’s by Sandy Clingan, Scott’s sister, with cropped partial Paula Graves burlap drawing and mention to prove I was once a famous artist. So back to Sandy’s, it had a green cone-shaped dress and was on a stick. Here’s my dad’s drawing to give you the idea of the function of the tennis ball.

A Ginny Graves-Carolyon Howard joint creation.

I just wanted to highlight Carolyn’s contributions to the Children’s Art World of Kansas City. from Ginny Graves Discover Stuff.

Carolyn Howard had two pets, Pam Hanslip and Julie Hise. Julie was miss all pro sports and this woman worked her @s$ off as she still does in her own career that’s something like boot camp I think. Julie Stram cornered me and Kathy (the two who had traditionally been in head cheerleader slot) and Julie about our stated credentials for the coveted position of Head Cheerleader. Julie won hands down, the first to the thrones demoted to the choir. Kathy and I compared our answers, but we’ve never actually cornered Julie at a reunion to see what she said to get the job, maybe we’ll have to do that next time.

Paula in her letter jacket pre-letters at a particular SME Cheer Party with Kathy, rosy glow from that tasty '78 Marsala, compliments of Graves cooking wine cellar frigidaire.

Julie did pick up on part of the problem right away our sr. year when she jumped us for having a bad attitude at summer camp, and by the way she was more grueling than Carolyn. It didn’t stop from first bottle of cold duck, port, or whatever was available from the Graves or Kindred cellars for toddies in the SMSouth parking lot ’til we brought down the girls of ’78 in a sr-squad pre-wrestling drinking violation when she was out-of-town. For that, Howie benched us for the Shawnee Mission South Game our Sr. Year, just the Seniors, so the Juniors on JV got to cheer.

This is what mostly what Kathy and I contributed to the guys as cheermaidens, good gossip.

a Shawnee Mission East Cheerleader Jumping Jill puppet

Drawings for Carolyn in her lancer blue tracksuit with her warrior women, Jumping Jack Puppeteer Design, by Dean Graves.

And a final heirloom photo of the Carolyn Howard in Sweatsuit jumping Jack doll puppet, construction artist Paula Graves. But of course, Howie was really the puppetmaster until we toughened up and learned our own strings to guide through us through the she-life. And by the way, I earned letters in three sports at Shawnee Mission East; cheerleading, swim team manager, and debate. And I’m proud of it.

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