1. Christy hosted Carol, Paul, and me for a grand family dinner. Christy fixed one of my favorite dinner entrees, stuffed peppers, Carol and Paul contributed pasta salad with garden fresh vegetables, and I didn't do much -- I just cut up a small watermelon and half of a cantaloupe. Christy fixed a snappy appetizer: bite-sized naan bread with huckleberry pepper jelly and cream cheese. We all enjoyed a refreshing creamsicle for dessert.
It was a do you remember? conversation during and after dinner. Carol and Paul's recent trip to Moscow inspired a lot of talk about different branches on Mom's family tree and somehow led us to yakkin about Kellogg memories, the Sunshine Inn's fish feed, Campfire father/daughter banquets, the bowling league Dad was in for many years, and other fun topics.
2. I had a lot of fun texting with Stu, Byrdman, Freddy, and Rog today about who we remember as fireballing pitchers in Little League -- the Kellogg guys, including me, named Stan Colson, Curt Berg, Dave Rowley, Steve Buckner, Mike Masters, maybe others.
Later, Stu and I reminisced about our participation when we were each 12 years old in our respective Little League All-Star tournaments. Some things I remembered pretty clearly. So did Stu -- who, by the way, had a great tournament. Other details, though, have disappeared from my mind, making me wish I had access at home to the archives of the Kellogg Evening News!
3. Our family dinner conversation also meandered for a little while to the Bunker Hill Zinc Plant. It was a toxic workplace, but something about working with other guys in such medieval conditions seemed to help us all get along. As a result, despite the conditions and demanding nature of the work, my memories of working there are similar to my memories of being on basketball or baseball teams or of playing in the band or singing in the choir: ultimately, what mattered most was yakkin' with other guys, helping each other out when need be, and joining with others in a common experience. To this day, conversation on occasion at The Lounge will turn to the Zinc Plant and it's always fun to remember crazy things about that place and tell stories about things that happened and the people who did them.
On occasion, I continue to have dreams about working in the cell room. They are never nightmarish, but rather seem to be my way of remembering when I was young, strong, and supple, able to do jobs working in a plant producing refined zinc demanded of me.
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