Just One of Those Things A Person Remembers

Wayne worked at Everest & Jennings Wheelchair Manufacturing Company before his mission and for a short while after we were married. That's where he knew Lester Madison, Cody's dad. We went to school with Cody, a rough-edged wiry blond kid you couldn't help liking.

Wayne said Lester told him many things as they worked together every day and Lester swore pretty much, but I only know one thing Lester said. He was worried about his daughter and told Wayne she might have to go to the hospital because she had a cisk on her ovulies.

Wow! It's Fifty Years

September I will go down to Santa Monica for my 50-year high school reunion. For that occasion, I am Alyce Brimley, Samohi class of ’58.

I went in 2004 to our 46-year reunion, an unlikely number, but obviously this class likes to get together. Maybe the reunion organizers—Monica, Bob, Donna, Janice, Jim, and others—are afraid too many of our 630+ members will die before we can meet and say, Wow! It’s fifty years.

In 2004 I took my three daughters because I could not handle going alone. Wayne was dead, and we wouldn’t be walking in together. Lola, Alyce, Ann—they were good to go with me, and we visited my Aunt Allie in La Cañada, and we visited Disneyland, Lola’s favorite place. But the death part is what I meant to say something about.

There was a written program, and on it a mention of people in our class who had died. Wayne was not in our class, he was class of ’57, but as my husband his name would appear there. I looked. It didn’t. But Kent Woolley’s did. I knew Kent wasn’t dead. He had visited me in Boise, told me about his heart attack or stroke or whatever it was. Yes, he had been ill, but he wasn’t dead. Someone on the committee thought Wayne was ill and Kent had died. It seems funny, but it's kind of a big mistake, don't you think?

This year I will actually have to go alone. I have reservations for my flight, car, and hotel, but I'm feeling a little apprehensive about it. I suppose I should do some mental imaging, see myself getting there in good order, driving safely up to Marina del Rey, wearing something smashing (it could happen) as I enter a room full of people I used to know, and then see myself feeling okay about being there. It would help if I could be thin by then. Superficial it may be, but I don't want folks to say, "Look what's happened to Alyce since Wayne died."