Who says remembering when is the most boring of conversation?

The Bishop Lynch Class of 1988 as we were 30 years ago.

I have made it no secret since graduating from Bishop Lynch High School in Dallas over thirty years ago that the years I attended (1984-1988) were not the best years of my life. Like radio talk show host and conservative commentator, Rush Limbaugh, who has sometimes spoken of his dislike for high school, the one thing I couldn’t wait to happen at the end of senior year in 1988 was that those four years was finally over. To me, it wasn’t called high school, it was called “skrool.”

The 30th Class Reunion: 10/6/18.

Having attended the 30th high school reunion last October, however, not only made me reconsider that a few of those days of yesteryear were not as bad as I’ve felt but have caused me to look back on them with a bit of nostalgia, as though I wish I could relive them again.

Among the “highs” I experienced, there was the time I met actors Walter Koenig and Mark Lenard at a Star Trek convention my freshman year in the fall of 1984, both of whom signed my grade school autograph book (there is a picture of me with the two of them in the freshman yearbook).

On the subject of who we young “scowls-full-of mush” thought were the most attractive teachers who taught us, the ladies had the hots for the male track coach while the guys swooned over the female theatre arts teacher. My first schoolboy crush on a woman teacher, however, occurred the first day of class freshman year at 8 am first period. The class was typing and rest assured I was not so much interested in learning how to use a typewriter as I was in the woman who taught it for those nine months. Her name not worth mentioning here but I can say her daily business attire a majority of the time was the equivalent of the over-the-knee outfits and stilettos the women anchors, or “Info-Babes” as Limbaugh calls them, on Fox News wear on a weekly basis.

The BL Brigade as they were 30 years ago.

I rarely attended sporting events at BL but when I did (which was once in a blue moon), my one and only reason for going was to see the brigade perform during halftime at the Friday night football games. Like the typing teacher I was infatuated with freshman year, the BL brigade (which celebrated its 50th anniversary in early 2018), wore and still sport the over-the-knee black and white dancing uniforms except during the years I was there, their attire also included white heeled boots that resembled the Go-Go boots women wore during the 1960s. Earlier photos showed the brigade team sporting black low-heeled boots; the kind actress Diana Rigg wore when she played secret agent Emma Peel in the British TV series, "The Avengers" (1965-1968).

Because of my love for the brigade team of yesteryear, when I posted on the Bishop Lynch Class of 1988 Facebook page how their outfits looked “dominant” or “domineering”, Angela Bardis, friend and Class of 88 alum and former brigade member, responded to me writing, “The power of a Brigade uniform and a plaid skirt. It cannot be denied.” Seeing the brigade perform at the homecoming game last October, however, the uniforms have changed. They look too much like every other high school’s brigade team and are too “politically correct” now.

When it came to journalism, I wrote for the student newspaper, the Perspective, my senior year. My “mark” on the newspaper came on the final front page article I wrote for the May 1988 issue about the handful of teachers leaving that year which was apparently such a hot topic that the school principal, Ed Leyden, had me meet him for the interview outside the campus. When I asked one instructor, Tom Poundstone, why he was leaving BL, he told me “Because you can’t teach ethics in a Catholic school.” Little did I know that comment would reach the powers-that-be who had his quote deleted from the front-page article before the issue went to print. I was stirring up controversy and at that time, I had no idea if I would pursue journalism in college, provided I would even go to a four-year university, or not.

Walking the halls of the high school with a few former classmates again homecoming night, I barely recognized the place with all the new additions. The only remnants that showed the class of 1988 was ever there was a screen house the biology class used and I assume still uses in the middle yard of the school, and was where during the 1986-87 junior year a time capsule was buried. The only other noticeable remnants of the school are the hallway lockers that the students today no longer use. They are just there, apparently, for decoration.

Looking back over the past 30 years, I have found myself envious of the things the BL students got now that I wished we had back then. They have a bowling team, for example, which I would have joined had that been around in the mid-80s and I would have asked not one, but two, woman classmates to prom, depending on who said yes, had I known back then that neither one of them were asked by anyone.

In memory...

Given the tuition it costs to send one’s son or daughter to BL now (close to $18,000 a year) versus the $5000 a year my parents paid to send me there from 1984-88 at the time I would have paid a hell of lot more attention to my classes back then instead of just settling for being an average student.

“Having two kids there I’d agree,” wrote class of 1988 alum, Greg Campbell, on BL’s Facebook page last October. “The environment there is fantastic and everyone truly has a home there, that much remains unchanged. However, the workload and teacher expectations is huge...multiple hours a night spent on homework including weekends. Sports are a yearlong commitment and a kid can easily spread themselves too thin trying to fit it all in. The tuition is steep but you really do get what you pay for!”

The campus during school hours now resembles a locked gated fortress, minus armed security officers, which is no doubt done to prevent a mass shooting; something not once did we students nor did our parents back in the mid-1980s fathom happening versus what often occurs yearly at various high schools today in Anytown, USA.

In my day, we had no internet, no social media and no cellphones. Things were so much easier back then. I wouldn’t trade what I experienced over thirty years ago for what today’s students got over there now.

“This group of amazing people 30 years ago changed my life,” wrote fellow 88’ alum Von Minor on the BL Facebook page. “BL is a special place. It’s so amazing to know we went to a school where everyone had a place and felt a part, accepted and loved.”

If there is one thing that’s remained a constant over the past three decades it is as alum Craig Vinci wrote on the BL Facebook page, “Our 88’ girls are still the prettiest.”

That much is true. Some things haven’t changed.

©10/10/18

Happy "fraking" 40th anniversary "Battlestar Galactica!"

I can see why "Battlestar Galactica" didn't get a fair shake when it debuted on ABC Sept. 17, 1978.

Everything about the show seemed to have aspects of director/writer George Lucas' vision of "a galaxy far, far away" written all over it. The villains called the Cylons, an army of slow-moving mechanical robots could well be compared to the Empire's stormtroopers in the Star Wars trilogy (1977-1983). Was it a coincidence that their leader was named "Imperious Leader" as in "Imperial Leader" for Darth Vader's Empire?

Shades of Harrison Ford's Han Solo could be seen in Dirk Benedict's Starbuck; the cynical colonial warrior for the Battlestar Galactica who's good with a blaster, always has his mind more on gambling, wooing the ladies, and figuring out a way out of the military service.

As for aliens, in the three-hour pilot, the "rag-tag fugitive fleet" led by “the last battlestar” reaches a planet resembling a casino full of alien denizens who may as well come from Luke Skywalker's home planet of Tatooine in Star Wars (1977). The place even has a band of long-legged alien women who are like the Pointer Sisters who come equipped with two mouths and two eyes.

Add Lorne Greene to the cast as the ship's commander who along with his son, Captain Apollo (Richard Hatch) is in charge of protecting and leading the last remnants of the human race (220 ships in all) to safety after having all their home planets wiped out by the Cylon Empire and one might think this is an outer space rendition of "Bonanza" (1959-1973).

All this didn't matter to a third grader like me who the year before Galactica debuted was still flying on that "Star Wars" high from the summer of 1977. As a kid growing up in Chicago, I made sure every Sunday night from the show's debut in September 1978 to its untimely cancellation in April 1979 was reserved to watching "Battlestar Galactica." I made sure to be in front of the television when the series' 24 episodes was condensed into 12 two-hour movies a couple years later airing on either Friday or Saturday nights every few weeks.

Plot and character development meant nothing to me at the time. What I wanted to see was the weekly outer space dogfights between the Colonial Vipers and the Cylon Raiders and the countless explosions that went with them courtesy of special effects coordinator John Dykstra who also worked on Lucas' Star Wars team.

I am not ashamed to say Galactica is still one of my favorite science fiction shows 40 years later. I have obviously grown up in the forty decades plus since I first saw the show as a kid. I can tell now, for example, after watching a few of the episodes that the shots of Cylon Raiders exploding were repeated sequences reused for later chapters and just another means to save money (ABC had $1 million invested in each episode).

A lot of the stories were thinly plotted and were obviously inspired by ideas done in countless other TV shows or even disaster movies like "Fire in Space.' Perhaps the most embarrassing episode out of the whole series where part of the Galactica is in flames following a Cylon attack leaving half the crew trapped in a burning area of the ship. All hope is relied upon a four-legged mechanical Daggit (the human version of a dog) to save the day.

The best episodes I have repeatedly viewed again on the special DVD box set released in 2003 (still no Blu-ray release other than the 125-minute theatrical version of the series’ pilot released this year) are the ones that ran in two parts. Among them, "Lost Planet of the Gods", in which the Galactica discovers a dead planet of ruined cities that resembled the pyramids of ancient Egypt. I have found it to be the most emotional two-part episode of the entire series since it ends with the death of Apollo's wife (Jane Seymour). I still cry whenever I watch that episode. (I know of some forty-year-old men who still cry every time E.T. bids Elliot (Henry Thomas) farewell in Steven Spielberg's "E.T. The Extra Terrestrial" (1982) and when Kevin Costner asks his dad near the end of "Field of Dreams" (1989) if he wants to play catch so I wouldn't laugh. I know who you are.)

Perhaps the two most popular two-part episodes are "The Living Legend" starring Lloyd Bridges ("Airplane" - 1980) as Commander Cain, a Patton-like battle commander with a death wish who was thought to have perished long ago. While in "War of the Gods", Patrick Macnee ("The Avengers" - 1961-1969) made a guest appearance as a self-proclaimed savior who could possibly be the Prince of Darkness.

Despite being on for only one season, it isn't surprising to note the show has developed a cult following the past three decades, though maybe not as big as the Star Trek franchise. Realizing their mistake in canceling the show in 1979, ABC attempted to recreate the series in 1980 in what most everyone says is the worst program ever made called "Galactica 1980" where the battlestar finally reaches Earth. Gone, however, were all of the original cast with the exception of Lorne Greene and the series only lasted six episodes with the best one being where Dirk Benedict reprised his role as Starbuck who's marooned on a planet and the only friend he has is a Cylon.

To some extent, "Battlestar Galactica" has slowly made a comeback. Actor Richard Hatch, who died in 2017, had his own website at www.richardhatch.com, and authored a few books based on the series' characters and at one point, planned on reviving the TV series again titled The Second Coming using some of the same cast. Hatch unveiled a four-minute trailer at a 1999 sci-fi convention but despite positive fan reaction, Universal, the studio who owns Galactica’s rights didn’t show interest. Despite being a mix of computer-generated effects and familiar movie soundtracks of "Crimson Tide" (1995) and "Independence Day" (1996) in the background, watching the four minute trailer on youtube.com I found it to be a joy to see Hatch and a couple other familiar faces from the original series again.

I suppose I’d be committing a sin if I didn’t mention the new "Battlestar Galactica" series (2004-2009) that aired on the Sci-Fi Channel (now called Syfy) for four seasons, which was a reimagining of the original starring Edward James Olmos and Mary McDonnell. Trouble is I was not a fan despite only watched less than a handful of episodes. I can already read the comments from devoted fans of the later series reading this blog telling me how I can be so negative about a show I barely watched and refused to give a chance. I’ll tell you why. Futuristic TV shows that incorporate post 9/11 storylines, family dysfunction, lesbianism and personal battles with alcoholism and breast cancer is not science fiction to me which was among some of the topics covered in the new Galactica series. In plain old Galactica language, I found the new show to be a lot “felgercarb.”

To be honest, that new series would not have been possible were it not for what skeptics found to be ABC's ambitious, big budget epic answer to Star Wars on Sunday nights 40 years ago.

So happy “fraking” fortieth anniversary "Battlestar Galactica" as you continue to flee from the Cylon tyranny leading a rag-tag fugitive fleet on your lonely quest for a shining planet known as Earth.

©9/20/18

Appreciation: Louise Thorson (1952-2018)

Band instructors Ed Ward and Louise Thorson in 1984.

Midway through the movie, "Whiplash" (2014), Terrence Fletcher, the sadistic, verbally abusive jazz band director played by J.K. Simmons, tells his protégé, Andrew Nieman, (Miles Teller) the story about American jazz saxophonist great, Charlie “Bird” Parker, and how bandleader “Papa” Jo Jones threw a cymbal at the then 16-year-old Parker’s head during a session, “nearly decapitating him.”

“Parker's a young kid, pretty good on the sax,” Fletcher tells Andrew. “Gets up to play at a cutting session, and he fucks it up. And Jones nearly decapitates him for it. And he's laughed off-stage. Cries himself to sleep that night, but the next morning, what does he do? He practices. And he practices and he practices with one goal in mind, never to be laughed at again. And a year later, he (Parker) goes back to Reno and he steps up on that stage, and plays the best motherfucking solo the world has ever heard.”

Fletcher’s story was only half true thanks to director/screenwriter Damien Chazelle. One would have to see "Whiplash" to understand Chazelle’s reason for having the Parker story slightly exaggerated. The truth is Jones didn’t throw a cymbal at Parker’s head, according to an article on zimbio.com, but threw it at the saxophonist’s feet. The embarrassing incident, however, did influence Parker to practice making certain it never happened again.

I mention the story because I had a “Charlie Parker” moment when I was with the band at St. Louise de Marillac school in La Grange Park, Ill. from fourth to eighth grade (1979-1984). It happened on a Thursday afternoon during a private band practice in seventh grade. There were three of us who were part of the trumpet section. I played the cornet – a smaller slightly obese version of the trumpet, which was thinner and a little longer.

I was second chair. First chair was Roger Veome and third chair was Michael Alberico. For those not familiar with how music sections are set up, the “chairs” so to speak, are not only based on who is the best at playing but to have each chair responsible for playing a different version of music with everyone in the band still in sync.

That school year from 1982-1983 I could honestly say was the year I developed the “I don’t give a shit attitude.” I didn’t care to hang out with the asskissing, goodie-goodie students in my class who never caused trouble.

That “I don’t give a shit” attitude showed when it came to band practice. I rarely opened up my cornet case at home to practice. Thursday mornings and afternoon band practices were the only times I took the instrument out. As a result of my rarely touching the thing on my off time, the three cornet valves sometimes got stuck while playing.

That afternoon, Louise Thorson, the music instructor who taught band along with the head director, Ed Ward, was furious with me. No, Ms. Thorson, as we called her, didn’t throw anything at me the way Jo Jones did during that session with Parker. Given how many times she had to stop the three of us from playing in sync on a piece so she could have me play the same music alone, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she looked for something, anything to throw at me. I do vaguely remember her poking me in the back while she scolded me. Ms. Thorson had me play alone so many times during that hour that Mike wanted to challenge me for my second chair. Ms. Thorson accepted Mike’s request. I don’t remember what exactly she told me standing behind me but it had something to do with my not practicing.

This wasn’t the first time Ms. Thorson got upset with me. Every spring from fourth to eighth grade our band department held an annual solo contest at St. Louise for several grade schools throughout the Chicago area. Up until seventh grade, I always won first place. Such was not the case in seventh grade when I embarrassingly won third place. I remember how during a private session with Ms. Thorson she complained to Mr. Ward how I was not keeping my ring, middle and index fingers on the cornet valves. Mr. Ward sarcastically told her “Well maybe we need to either glue or nail his fingers to the valves so he’ll stop.” Today, such a comment would have drawn laughs but for a 12-year-old like me at that time, coming from Mr. Ward, who during summer band camp one year introduced himself saying, “My name is Ed Ward, also known as the mean guy”, I took the threat seriously.

I didn’t cry myself to sleep that ill-fated Thursday afternoon like Parker supposedly did after that session as Fletcher explained to Andrew in Whiplash. I did have butterflies in my stomach though and not the kind where one is excited but more like the kind one gets bringing home a report card with low grades dreading their parents’ reaction.

I told dad I wanted to quit the band but didn’t cite the reason. Like a typical parent who wants to see their kid participate in either sports or other school activities in order to be more sociable, whether the kid wants to participate or not, dad put the guilt trip on me saying how if I quit the band what else was I going to participate in? The band was practically the only thing I was involved with after school and on weekends during various concerts.

Since quitting wasn’t an option, I did what Parker reportedly did. I practiced at home on various days after school. The idea of my parents suddenly hearing me practice was the equivalent of what they’d do today if they suddenly saw me attend church services on Saturdays or Sundays for no reason. They’d never heard me practice before. So why did I start now?

A few weeks went by before Mike brought up “the challenge” to fight me for second chair. When the subject finally came up, however, I was ready. I had been ready for a few weeks and was actually expecting Ms. Thorson to hold the challenge the following week. This time, things were different. When Ms. Thorson had us play a piece of music I aced the solo without being stopped for not playing out of tune. It was Mike, who was not playing up-to-par.

At the end of the challenge, I got to keep my second chair. It was clear that Mike assumed I wouldn’t take the challenge seriously and not practice so in turn, he most likely didn’t bother practicing. There was no way, if I was going to stay with the band that I was going to lose my position and explain to my parents why I was sitting third in the trumpet section during concerts. Nor was I going to tolerate Mike’s mockery at his winning either.

Not only did I keep my second chair until graduating from St. Louise in May 1984, I again won first place during the 1983-1984 school year in eighth grade in the solo contest.

I suspect Ms. Thorson and Mr. Ward were a little disappointed I won third place the year before. It’s like they put me on some sort of high pedestal. To them, it was ok for others like Mike, for example, to not get first place in the solo contests every year but for someone like me who always won first place in years previous, they always expected to see me come out on top.

I also suspect they were even more disappointed when mom told them upon graduation that I would not continue with the band at my new high school that August in Dallas that year. To be truthful, I probably would have joined the band at Bishop Lynch if I didn’t have to get up at 5 am Monday through Friday to do marching band and play at the football games during halftime on Friday nights.

Ms. Thorson and Mr. Ward left St. Louise about a year after I graduated. Ms. Thorson went on to become head bandleader at St. Cletus School in La Grange Park for thirty years. I learned earlier this month on St. Louise’s Facebook page that she passed away from cancer at the still too young age of only 66. Reading her online obituary I learned one tidbit about her I never knew. She was a lifelong Cubs fan and lived long enough to see the Cubs win the World Series in 2015.

I’ve had a lot of teachers, a few in grade school and high school, who exhibited some trait that made them stand out from all the others. The difference though between them and Ms. Thorson is she, along with Mr. Ward, wanted to see us play to the best of our ability during concerts and the yearly solo contests. Hence the reason she got upset with me that day.

Her scolding me for not playing up to her perfectionist standards and agreeing to Mike’s request to challenge me for second chair was her way of saying, in the words of Terrence Fletcher from "Whiplash," “If you want the fucking part, earn it!”; accept without the F-word since St. Louise was a Catholic grade school.

If Ms. Thorson is reading this now from somewhere in the Heavens she will probably tell me she was not as mean as Terrence Fletcher though I think she will agree with him.

She’d probably tell me exactly what Fletcher told Andrew in the film.

“I wasn't there to conduct. Any fucking moron can wave his arms and keep people in tempo. I was there to push people beyond what's expected of them. I believe that is an absolute necessity.”

She’d probably follow that up with another comment Fletcher said where she’d tell me, “There are no two words in the English language more harmful than "good job"."

©5/23/18

President Trump not the only one who’s said offensive comments

President Trump’s “shithole” comment concerning immigration last week made me recall others who’ve made questionable comments that drew ire from people. Just last week alone, two of the “Hollyweird” elite made statements in interviews and on social media that got them in hot water.

Disney actress Bella Thorne didn’t care to be inconvenienced when she complained on Twitter that the road closures in Santa Barbara, Calif. caused her to miss her boyfriend’s concert performance. Thorne apparently doesn’t pay attention to the local news in her area much less national. If she had, she would have known the reason for the road closures was due to the mudslides, which have so far killed over twenty people.

Actor Rob Lowe put Thorne in her place posting, “This attitude is why people hate celebrities/Hollywood. Bella, I’m sorry you were inconvenienced. We will try to move out our dead quicker.”

Liam Neeson, currently promoting his latest film, "The Commuter" (2018), who called the recent sexual harassment allegations plaguing Hollywood a “witch hunt” and that some of the allegations against actors like Dustin Hoffman “childhood stuff” sparked backlash on social media.

“Dear Liam Neeson, until you’ve been in the position of feeling completely vulnerable over the fear of being groped, shut up. What a disappointment he turned out to be” wrote user Claire Burke on January 12, 2018.

“Disappointed by Liam Neeson’s comments. Reinforcing the idea that inappropriately touching women was the norm and therefore ok. The reference to a ‘witch hunt’ also irked me,” wrote Dr. Michelle McMahon the same night.

If anyone has bothered to listen to anything President Trump has said since he took office, let alone, what he said while running for president in 2016 then they should know that he is not one who isn’t afraid to speak his mind no matter how offensive or not well thought out his statements are. Voters knew that and still elected him.

When President Trump called the mass shooting at a Texas church last November in Sutherland Springs a “mental health problem at the highest level,” that’s what I have been saying for decades since these mass shootings started. How many times to do I have to say, “Guns don’t kill people! People do!” If a madman is intent on killing, they are going to find a way to do it no matter how many gun control laws are on the f-----g books! None of which have ever worked!

Just two weeks ago, Trump taunted North Korean President Kim Jung Un saying he’s got a bigger button and unlike North Korea’s, his works when it comes to the possibility of nuclear war.

Trump’s most recent comment this week about the drive-by media is my favorite in which he tweeted, “The fake news awards will be given to the losers on January 17th.”

I hate political correctness and am tired of walking on eggshells when it comes to speaking my mind for the sole reason, I have to be nice to so-so person because what I say might hurt their feelings or it will cause social media users to either block or unfriend me, like that hasn’t happened already. I don’t subscribe to the unwritten social media rule that says, “He/she who dies with the most friends on Facebook wins.” Chances are the billion plus users' people have on their accounts are not going to be at their funeral.

I am 1000 percent plus certain there is not a single person out there, or the two or three people reading this column, if that many, who has not said something inappropriate that has either caused them to lose friends and family on social media as a result.

As the Bible says, “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone” and as of this writing, I see no one coming forward claiming they have NEVER, EVER said something or posted something offensive to anyone that they were sorry they ever said it.

©1/17/18