Shari Stiver Archives

October 22, 2015

I Missed my Warriorettes

I like driving across the country, but this was a duller than usual trip.

All my Road Warriorettes came up with excuses why they couldn’t go with me this time. (What are the odds that they ALL had to wash their hair during those dates? And, how many times do you have to wash your hair, anyway?)

I got a characteristically late start, so the sun was dipping below the horizon before I got out of Okeechobee county. You can click on the pictures to make them larger.

Florida Citrus Tower

I only made it Clermont the first night. The first place I stopped for lodging wanted too much money. It only took a sweep of my headlights to scratch the next joint off my list. I pulled into a parking lot to do a Google search for what my other options were. It happened to be across the street from the Florida Citrus Tower.

This wasn’t the first time I had ogled the tower.

Road Warriorettes Anne and Jessica drop a dime (OK, it was only a penny, if want to quibble.)
Mother and the tower
Warriorette Anne wants to get frisky with Abe Lincoln

Mississippi River Bridge at Memphis

I usually take two different routes from Florida to Missouri:

Mostly Interstates through Orlando, Atlanta, Chattanooga, Nashville, Paducah and Cape
Cross-country on U.S. 27 through the center of Florida to Marianna, Fla., then Dothan, Montgomery, Birmingham, Nashville, Cadiz, Land Between the Lakes, Wickliffe, Cairo, Cape. Interestingly enough, both route are almost exactly the same distance – 1,110 miles.

This time, I decided to go the U.S. 27 route to Birmingham, then cut across to Memphis and up I-55. That added about half a day to the trip because I pulled into Tupelo at dark and decided to stop so I could drive the rest of the way in the daylight. I mean, why go a new way if you can’t see the countryside? This was slightly longer than my usual routes, but the roads were much improved over the last time I had gone that way.

“Just go”

When I got to the Jasper exit, I called Wife Lila to ask if she wanted me try to find the worst motel we had ever stopped at.

It was well past Cranky O’Clock, with few prospects anywhere near, so I acceded to the requests (demands?) to stop at the first available place, sight unseen. I registered and handed her the room key while I started to unload the car.

She opened the door, turned around and scurried back to the car. “Let’s go,” she said. “Don’t even stop to get our money back, just go.”

She said I didn’t need to search for the place.

October 10, 2015

Quitting Cold Turkey

Buried back in a corner of the attic was a pipe stand and a bunch of Dad’s pipes. They hadn’t been used since one New Year’s Eve when he pitched all his cigarettes in the fireplace and quit smoking cold turkey.

I was a little late coming home from my date with Shari Stiver that night, and the next morning he gave me an uncharacteristic chewing-out. I mean, I wasn’t THAT late, so I was surprised.

A lack of smoke in the air

Over the next couple of weeks, we noticed he was sucking on a lot of hard candies and was crankier than usual, but we didn’t notice the lack of smoke in the air.

Finally, he told us what he had done. “I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure I could do it,” he said.

Most of the pictures we have of him showed him with a cigarette in hand. It wasn’t unusual for him to be puffing on one, have one smouldering in the ashtray and be reaching for a fresh one to light.

He said it was fairly easy for him to quit because “I had become disgusted with myself: the way my clothes smelled, the way I had burned holes in everything… I no longer LIKED to smoke.”

It sure made shopping for him a lot harder when Christmas and his birthday rolled around. We bought him a lot of smoking paraphernalia like those pipes and stand over the years.

September 8, 2015

Wimpy’s As We Remember It

A couple of young newlyweds stopped by the house to talk about buying Mother’s 1977 Datsun pickup truck. Mother would tell us that she could count on two or three lookers a year for as long as it’s been parked there, but she’d always tell the prospective buyers that she was going to be buried in it. When the time came, we measured the truck, then we measured the available plot and decided that it wouldn’t work.

Anyway these kids were real Datsun fans and promised to restore it for actual driving as opposed to cannibalizing it for parts. Mark, David and I said we’d consider selling it to them on the condition that when it was in running order they’d drive by the cemetery and give Mother and Dad a couple beeps to let them know it had found a good home. But, more about that later if and when it’s a done deal.

Another visitor showed up

While the kids and I were swapping Datsun stories (I can’t remember if I owned three or four of them), another car pulled into the driveway. It was Terry Rose Crowell, from CHS Class of 1965. She asked if I was going to be in town Saturday, September 19.

I’m getting to the age where I don’t feel comfortable making plans that far in advance, but I allowed as how the possibilities were good.

She asked me how many tickets to the Wimpy’s event I needed. I said the only Road Warriorette close enough to go with me was Friend Shari in St. Louis, so I wouldn’t need more than two.

(When I called Friend Shari, she said she wasn’t sure if she could make it. Something about washing her hair.)

Lewis family to cook from original recipe

Here are details about the event that were posted on the Centenary United Methodist Church website:

Save the date for Wimpy’s night at Centenary and open house. On Saturday, September 19 from 11:00am to 2:00pm, the Lewis family and Centenary will be bringing back the original recipe, hometown favorite hamburgers. $10 will get you two classic Wimpy burgers, fries and a drink. Spread the word, bring your friends and family, then take them on a tour of our newly renovated campus. Volunteers are needed. Please contact Terry Crowell at 573-382-1123 for information.

The CHS 1960s email list said you could also contact Billy Sisco at Sisco’s Barber Shop (573-335-3545) for tickets. I saw somewhere else that only 600 tickets will be sold, so you’d better get yours while you still can.

I might have prints available

If I can find someone in Cape who can make some prints at a reasonable price, I may bring some to the event. I’m thinking of an 8×10 composite print of Wimpy’s as it looked in 1966. I won’t know a price until I find out how much they cost to produce.

April 24, 2015

World Book Day

I was driving down the road this afternoon when someone on the radio mentioned that this was World Book Day. That caused a flashback to some photos of the side-by-side offices Dad and I had in the basement.

This was my desk, which is uncharacteristically neat and clean. I’m normally a stacker. The radio dial is set somewhere to the middle, so I was probably listening to KFVS, which I think was 960. It’s doubtful I could have picked up my favorite stations: WLS out of Chicago, WLN out of New Orleans or KXOK out of St. Louis.

The reference books I still have on my shelf nearly 50 years later are to the left of the radio. The Olivetti portable typewriter followed me to Ohio University and points beyond. I passed it on to Brother Mark at some point, and he still has it.

My darkroom equipment was eventually set up behind me on a table and Dad’s workbench. These photos must have been taken before I bought my enlarger and other stuff.

Shari saving me from Algebra

Maybe I cleaned up my desk because Girlfriend Shari was coming over to try to drill algebra into my skull. If you blow it up big enough, you can see a hand-scrawled note on the wall that says, “When I’m right, nobody remembers; When I’m wrong, nobody forgets.”

Dad’s side of the world

Dad had a real office where he did most of his book work, but he’d also work on things at home. There’s a blueprint on the left side of the desk. That lamp hanging down is still in use, and the fan is still there. The book shelves gradually filled with books, mostly about Scouting, but there are still a lot of Pinewood Derby cars and wooden neckerchief slides gathering dust. There is a stack of aluminum film cans containing our 8mm home movies to the left of the light.

Getting back to World Book Day, I’ve always been surrounded by books and magazines. When we lived in a tiny house trailer that Dad pulled from job to job, there wasn’t a lot of storage space, so my comic book collection was housed in a wooden seat with a hinged lid back in my bedroom. When you are an only child (at the time) and living out in the boonies, your books become your closest companions.

Dad and my grandfather liked murder mysteries

I asked my grandfather, who lived with us, why he liked Earl Stanley Garden and Perry Mason books and not the fishing magazines I subscribed to.

“Because I can read a mystery without wanting to kill someone, but if I read a fishing magazine, I’d want to go fishing,” he answered.

Our family subscribed to The St. Louis Globe-Democrat in the morning and The Southeast Missourian in the afternoon. We must have gotten at least half a dozen magazines. If nothing else was available, I’d read the cereal box.

When I finally got a library card, I checked out as many books as I could carry. I made a tiny mark inside the books when I finished them. A few years back, I prowled the aisles of Cape’s library until I saw some old friends that still had the marks in them. If any of the book police are reading this, I hope they will forgive my youthful transgression.