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PROFILE UPDATES


•   Shirley Hammons (Grubb) (1961)  7/12
•   Emma Jo Jones (Ivey) (1960)  7/11
•   Jo Nell Bailey (Rogers)  7/11
•   Wanda Keller (Rio) (1960)  7/11
•   Suzanne Cole (Gann) (1961)  7/10
•   Cheryl Nored (Dean)  7/1
•   Edd Clark (1960)  6/2
•   Sam Moseley (1960)  6/1
•   Billy Ayers (1961)  6/1
•   Dianne Wilkerson (Wyatt) (1960)  5/22
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WHERE WE LIVE


Who lives where - select from the dropdown to find out.


WHERE ARE THEY NOW


MISSING CLASSMATES


Know the email address of a missing Classmate? Click here to contact them!

JOINED CLASSMATES


Percentage of Joined Classmates: 66.3%


A:   212   Joined
B:   108   Not Joined

              

   

 

               
      The Class of '61 -  55th Reunion
                    
October 22nd
      COMPLIMENTARY food & drinks
      Hotel rooms have been reserved 
Assistance is needed to contact anyone
that was ever in the class, as all are invited. 
     More info on Marshall News Page.
         

 


                                  TEXAS TENORS
Bill Peteet thought a little Patriotism was in order at a time when our
Country seems to be in such turmoil, and I agree.

 


JUST FOR FUN - Click on icon in bottom right hand corner to
 enlarge screen.

 

 


l

 

 
Our newest members:

Shirley Hammons Grubb
Wanda Keller Rio
James Hampton

Abe Lee Nader
Jo Nell Bailey Rogers
 

212Members (66.3% of the classes)
   
110,274 Hits

Still Over 1,000/Mo.

7/13/16
 

 

 


Watch this - Too Cool and Funny
                         

 


from Soff  -   ONE WORLD OBSERVATORY
Take a trip through time and history on your way to the top. 

                                 

 


from Bill Peteet - SENSATIONAL
                Like Whose Got Talent from Holland

                            
 

 

    
                                                                            

 


Another Got Talent not to be missed - THE ILLUSIONIST

 


Beautiful rendition of the National Anthem in a
Hyatt Regency

 

 

Paramount Theater lights to open on

Saturday.  Click here.
 

Living the Good Old Days (Click pic)


The Irony of Aging
 

                   1960                                                Now 

Long hair

Longing for hair

KEG

EKG

Acid Rock Acid Reflux
Moving to Calif because it's cool Moving to AZ because it's warm
Trying to look like Marlon Brando or Liz Taylor Trying NOT to look like Marlon Brando or Liz Taylor
Seeds and stems Roughage
Hoping for a BMW Hoping for a BM
Going to a new, hip joint Receiving a new hip joint
Rolling Stones Kidney Stones
Screw the system Upgrade the system
Disco Costco
Parents begging you to get your hair cut Children begging you to get their heads shaved
Passing the driving test Passing the vision test
Whatever Depends

       

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


thank you Harriett Eaker Adams

                                              

                        


Doug Moseley's daughter Lujenna, surprises Cathie at the Brown Pig
during our 55th Reunion.

 

    

 

                            

 

          CLICK HERE TO VISIT 
          
HEALTH WATCH

 

                            

 

 


Good Memories



One more for the Stagecoach Road?

 


                                              

 

MARTIN - STREET SINGER - AVE MARIA
 

              

 

 


from Susan Hardy Vanhorn - STREET SINGING
Martin, a baker in Holland for 32 years, out of a job, began
Street Singing.  Stop the player above, before listening.

   

 

from Susan Hardy Vanhorn -    Les Flashmob Prodiges

 

                                            

     

Click on NEW sign to see another
fun musical flash mob video.
via Bill Peteet

 

 

 

                           
             COOLEST JUKEBOX EVER
CLICK on the Jukebox for songs from the 40s, 50s, 60s & 70s.
from Sam 

 

                                              

 


A Capella version of the Eagles' Hotel California

 

 


            How cool is this?  Our first military service photo.
      Boot Camp - Gerald (Soff) Watson & Ross (Abber) Ayers

 

                                   

 

  

 

 Class Photo Gallery

 

 
Share your Adventures

Been relaxing in the mountains?

beachcombing or maybe sailing?

or soaring with the clouds?

If you have pictures or videos, post them

Here - '60 or Here - '61

 

Hey, some of us have to live vicariously! 

 

 

              

  
    
         
            

  Photobucket                

 
     

                Click here to get your screen cleaned   

Cleaner may take a minute to upload.

                
 

 

This is the Marshall High School classes of 1960 and 1961 Website. What started out as a reunion website evolved into a "Stay In Touch" with classmates website. Each Classmate and our Guests have a personal page that is set up so they can share with us the things that have been going on with themselves and their families since High School.  This is a great place to brag on your children and grandchildren, share your experiences and plans.  Feel free to "link" your Facebook, My Space, You Tube, etc. to your personal page. Insert recent photos of you and your family, add your "since I left MHS" history, etc. 

The site will be updated, active and useful for as long as class members want it to be. Update your personal information anytime you wish, and encourage other classmates to continue updating theirs.  When you enter the Home Page, there is a box in the upper right hand corner that will indicate who else is using the site.  To send an Instant Message to that person, simply click on the box and type in your message.  When they get your message they can immediately respond.   One can also go to the Message Center and contact anyone in the classes and/or our Guests, to begin a dialogue.  

Addditionally, there are website Administrators available to assist with preparation of your personal page, as well as respond to questions you have about the site. They also, check new data entered by classmates to assure that it is admissable. Info60@marshallmavs.com for the class of 1960 and info61@marshallmavs.com for the class of 1961. 

  

             

Click on revolving music note to return to top of page.

 

      
Don't hesitate to contact us.        We LOVE feedback.

Click Here To Return To Top Of Home Page.

 

 
 

 

Stick with this.  You'll be glad you did.

"Getting Old" with Mary Maxwell


Thanks to Jane Walker Payton for this video.

 

 

Here is a bit of nostalgia, Mr. Neely, Henry Moyer (Bill's dad), Bushe
Morgan, Carolyn Abney, Joe Gouden, Max Lale and others.

 

 

CLICK ON SMILEYS TO RETURN TO THE TOP OF THE PAGE.
                                  
 

 

           

 

 

 


Here is a story of an aging couple told by their son who was President of NBC NEWS.   

  

This is a wonderful piece by Michael Gartner, editor of newspapers large and small and president of NBC News. In 1997 he won the Pulitzer Prize for editorial writing.

It is well worth reading. A few good chuckles are guaranteed. 

My father never drove a car. Well, that's not quite right. I should say I never saw him drive a car.

He quit driving in 1927, when he was 25 years old, and the last car he drove was a 1926 Whippet.

"In those days," he told me when he was in his 90s, "to drive a car you had to do things with your hands, and do things with your feet, and look every which way, and I decided you could walk through life and enjoy it or drive through life and miss it."

At which point my mother, a sometimes salty Irishwoman, chimed in: "Oh, baloney, he hit a horse!!"

"Well," my father said, "there was that, too."

So my brother and I grew up in a household without a car. The neighbors all had cars -- the Kollingses next door had a green 1941 Dodge, the VanLaninghams across the street a gray 1936 Plymouth, the Hopsons two doors down a black 1941 Ford --but we had none.

My father, a newspaperman in Des Moines, would take the streetcar to work and, often as not, walk the 3 miles home. If he took the streetcar home, my mother and brother and I would walk the three blocks to the streetcar stop, meet him and walk home together.

My brother, David, was born in 1935, and I was born in 1938, and sometimes, at dinner, we'd ask how come all the neighbors had cars but we had none.

  

"No one in the family drives," my mother would explain, and that was that.

But, sometimes, my father would say, "But as soon as one of you boys turns 16, we'll get one."

It was as if he wasn't sure which one of us would turn 16 first.

But, sure enough, my brother turned 16 before I did, so in 1951 my parents bought a used 1950 Chevrolet from a friend who ran the parts department at a Chevy dealership downtown.

It was a four-door, white model, stick shift, fender skirts, loaded with everything, and, since my parents didn't drive, it more or less became my brother's car.

Having a car but not being able to drive didn't bother my father, but it didn't make sense to my mother.

So in 1952, when she was 43 years old, she asked a friend to teach her to drive. 

  

She learned in a nearby cemetery, the place where I learned to drive the following year and where, a generation later, I took my two sons to practice driving. The cemetery probably was my father's idea. "Who can your mother hurt in the cemetery?" I remember him saying more than once.

For the next 45 years or so, until she was 90, my mother was the driver in the family. Neither she nor my father had any sense of direction, but he loaded up on maps -- though they seldom left the city limits -- and appointed himself navigator. It seemed to work.

Still, they both continued to walk a lot. My mother was a devout Catholic, and my father an equally devout agnostic, an arrangement that didn't seem to bother either of them through their 75 years of marriage.

(Yes, 75 years, and they were deeply in love the entire time.)

He retired when he was 70, and nearly every morning for the next 20 years or so, he would walk with her the mile to St. Augustine's Church. She would walk down and sit in the front pew, and he would wait in the back until he saw which of the parish's two priests was on duty that morning. If it was the pastor, my father then would go out and take a 2-mile walk, meeting my mother at the end of the service and walking her home.

If it was the assistant pastor, he'd take just a 1-mile walk and then head back to the church. He called the priests "Father Fast" and "Father Slow."

After he retired, my father almost always accompanied my mother whenever she drove anywhere, even if he had no reason to go along. If she were going to the beauty parlor, he'd sit in the car and read, or go take a stroll or, if it was summer, have her keep the engine running so he could listen to the Cubs game on the radio. 

  

In the evening, then, when I'd stop by, he'd explain: "The Cubs lost again. The millionaire on second base made a bad throw to the millionaire on first base, so the multimillionaire on third base scored."

If she were going to the grocery store, he would go along to carry the bags out -- and to make sure she loaded up on ice cream. As I said, he was always the navigator, and once, when he was 95 and she was 88 and still driving, he said to me, "Do you want to know the secret of a long life?"

"I guess so," I said, knowing it probably would be something bizarre.

"No left turns," he said.

"What?" I asked.

"No left turns," he repeated. "Several years ago, your mother and I read an article that said most accidents that old people are in happen when they turn left in front of oncoming traffic.

As you get older, your eyesight worsens, and you can lose your depth perception, it said. So your mother and I decided never again to make a left turn."

"What?" I said again.

"No left turns," he said. "Think about it.. Three rights are the same as a left, and that's a lot safer. So we always make three rights.."

"You're kidding!" I said, and I turned to my mother for support.

"No," she said, "your father is right. We make three rights. It works."

But then she added: "Except when your father loses count."

I was driving at the time, and I almost drove off the road as I started laughing.

"Loses count?" I asked.

"Yes," my father admitted, "that sometimes happens. But it's not a problem. You just make seven rights, and you're okay again."

I couldn't resist. "Do you ever go for 11?" I asked.

"No," he said " If we miss it at seven, we just come home and call it a bad day. Besides, nothing in life is so important it can't be put off another day or another week."

My mother was never in an accident, but one evening she handed me her car keys and said she had decided to quit driving. That was in 1999, when she was 90.

She lived four more years, until 2003. My father died the next year, at 102.

They both died in the bungalow they had moved into in 1937 and bought a few years later for $3,000.

  

(Sixty years later, my brother and I paid $8,000 to have a shower put in the tiny bathroom -- the house had never had one. My father would have died then and there if he knew the shower cost nearly three times what he paid for the house.)

He continued to walk daily -- he had me get him a treadmill when he was 101 because he was afraid he'd fall on the icy sidewalks but wanted to keep exercising -- and he was of sound mind and sound body until the moment he died.

One September afternoon in 2004, he and my son went with me when I had to give a talk in a neighboring town, and it was clear to all three of us that he was wearing out, though we had the usual wide-ranging conversation about politics and newspapers and things in the news.

A few weeks earlier, he had told my son, "You know, Mike, the first hundred years are a lot easier than the second hundred." At one point in our drive that Saturday, he said, "You know, I'm probably not going to live much longer."

"You're probably right," I said.

"Why would you say that?" He countered, somewhat irritated.

"Because you're 102 years old," I said..

"Yes," he said, "you're right." He stayed in bed all the next day.

That night, I suggested to my son and daughter that we sit up with him through the night.

He appreciated it, he said, though at one point, apparently seeing us look gloomy, he said: "I would like to make an announcement. No one in this room is dead yet."

An hour or so later, he spoke his last words:

"I want you to know," he said, clearly and lucidly, "that I am in no pain. I am very comfortable. And I have had as happy a life as anyone on this earth could ever have."

A short time later, he died.

I miss him a lot, and I think about him a lot. I've wondered now and then how it was that my family and I were so lucky that he lived so long..

I can't figure out if it was because he walked through life, or because he quit making left turns.

Life is too short to wake up with regrets. 

So love the people who treat you right. 

Forget about the one's who don't. 

Believe everything happens for a reason. 

If you get a chance, take it & if it changes your life, let it.

Nobody said life would be easy, they just promised it would most likely be worth it."

  

ENJOY LIFE NOW - IT HAS AN EXPIRATION DATE AND DON'T MAKE LEFT TURNS!