There's nothing like a heap of Masquers piled on your bed to keep your toes toasty when the temperature drops. In the mid 1990's, I waited for it to get nice and cold to head to Binghamton, NY were Bob, and John & Lara were in grad school.
I'm not sure when the tradition began, or who began it. I would guess Scott, but it could have been Ross. Then again, it also smacks of Constance. A weekend morning at a Masquer house, empty bottles of grain alcohol and cheap beer line the stairs. The remains of the previous nights party guests also strewn around the house, in various stages of dress and consciousness. Suddenly, someone or more than one has taken whatever blanket you managed to end up with. There are yells of 'Shree', poking, tickling.
And this tradition didn't end with college. I think it got more intense with the addition of pets and children. Whenever I'd visit Masquers, I made sure whatever I was sleeping in had a 'G' rating, never sure if there would be a toddler hurled onto me before I even had my contact lenses in.
Which is not to say, that I was only ever a victim of this phenomena. I took a certain glee from doing unto others, and it was always the more the merrier. Chris & I visiting Scott in Pittsburgh giggling as we climbed onto his bed. I think it had to be done in groups. Otherwise, this would be a completely different post.
These pictures are from two trips in the early to mid 90s. Some of the pics are labeled with 1994, but the hair in some looks much earlier than that.
Follow this link now! Or sometime soon, anyway. I don't know how long it will be there.
I was driving home last night innocently cursing traffic and listening to NPR, when what do you know, our dear old haunt (that would be Shippensburg) had a feature role in this story of two college students from Harrisburg.
I have nothing to add, but here is my post. I'm not used to being chastised for not writing enough. If I'm remembering correctly, it hasn't happened since Dr. Costanzo's freshman English class. Or maybe it was that graduate Reading class when the prof told me I write like a scientist. I took it as a compliment.
There you go, Lisa. ps. Oh, and I raked more leaves than you did. ;-)
I am thankful that I no longer think this is an appropriate outfit to go partying in on a Friday night--or any other. I am also thankful for all of you that stumbled up or down the Goat Path with me, before there were steps. (Yes, it is a nightgown--and 1985, so that makes it OK.)
I am thankful that I was doing lights on 'You Know I Can't Hear You When the Water is Running' and avoided the bad wigs that Denise & Chris were subjected to, and hope that Denise is thankful that she got to connect Eric's dots.
I am thankful that I got to learn Greek from some real fraternity boys.
I am thankful that we got to work with the professional dance troupe, Dance Teller for Amadeus.
I am thankful that Scott is part of my life. I am thankful that on a warm summer day, I got to see the Monkees perform in New Jersey with a bunch of people who really appreciated the genius behind the music.
I am thankful that I do not remember throwing up in Scott's van Vera, on the way back from my first trip to the wall. I am thankful that I got to spend so much time in this rundown, nearly rat infested office that I and the lot of you called home. I am also thankful for Constance for sending the photo to me. I am so thankful for the magical night Chris & I stole trays from the Kriner Diner to sled on. I remember night and new snow. Snowball fights with everyone and stumbling to Doug & Rabbits for hot cocoa.
I am thankful that Chris gave me a stack of photos to post, so I can feel a part of those trips that I missed.
Today I raked 8,467,684 million (approximately) leaves, stepped in 8 piles of dog poop, changed 4 towels under a leaky valve behind the toilet, played Finding Nemo with Maizie & a pile of plastic fish, made soup for dinner and still had time for the internet. Why all this bustle? No sunny afternoon to swing in the swings or paddle in the pool.
Let's not think of the dropping temperatures.
Here are a few pictures from the Old Songs Festival in June that we went to with Chris, Jeff, and my sister. At least, I think there were adults there, most of my pictures are of the baby. It took some searching to discover that she wasn't the only one there.
A card I saved from the summer of '88 with a HAND WRITTEN note from John says: Brian, I loved reading the card that you returned concerning theater at Shippensburg. I'm currently Historian for the Masquers/Music Theater organization and have been a member for 3 years. Your experience and attitude about theater seem to fit in with those of an educational theater atmosphere. You checked several areas of interest including onstage and backstage areas. Anyone truly involved with theater knows there is a lot of effort on and off stage. Since you also checked that you are definitely interested in our production of "Oliver," I look forward to seeing you soon at Memorial Auditorium or at the Activity Fair. We will have a booth set up for the fair, so please stop by and meet some of the people you will be working with. John Scott Hell, who wouldn't be impressed by that? There were tragic-comedy masks on the cover of the card in a pen and ink sketch by Douglas Robinson, printed up as cards in John's hometown of Waynesboro by J&M Printing. Coming soon ... the programs from the two days of the Stage Directing class scenes final exams from December '88 (unless someone's a real party pooper and beats me to posting it first).
o.k. some people had glorious vacations in Italy and the beach. We went to Potato City and looked at the stars at an abandoned air-strip in a zero light pollution area of northwestern Pennsylvania. Did I mention that unbeknownst to us a bear lived in the hanger? The Allegheny Mountains however, are just glorious. It's been a long time I drove for hundreds of miles without seeing a Walmart or chain restaurant.
Luckily, we sought refuge at the Potato City Motor Lodge. We were literally the only guests -- surrounded by stuffed hunting trophies. All the other rooms were open with beds unmade. Kinda like the Shining. They gave us a key-- and we were lucky to get the jungle room. We stopped at a look-out at a dam. The sky was strange during our trip. One side was sunny and the other rainy. We drove through rainbows.
Last Sunday I get a text message from Lara,"At cabin, tree in front yard exploded, OMG". Of course I was freaked out-- Lara texting, and using OMG. Gave me the willies. Then I started to worry. Was this a cry for help? Were they in trouble? First problem, where the heck is that cabin. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere Maryland. South of that Frank Lloyd Wright house. Lots of snakes. Is that enough info for 911 to send help. Leading to problem #2, what are the odds they even know what 911 is in Garret County? I text back, asking if they are ok or if they needed anything.
Sorry it's taken me a while to get this posted -- and you have to admit, it's not nearly as interesting as the pics Galen has shared -- but here are Scott, Stuart, and Vera with our crew, when they drifted through Maryland in July. Can you believe we actually didn't take the camera out until just before they left? We were too busy catching up on some really interesting episodes in Scott and Stuart's lives, walking the beach, and watching Vera roll her eyes at Scott every few minutes.
I couldn't resist adding this one, though I checked in with the other party first just to be safe. Was there ever any hair as good as 80s hair? I think I'll be posting the rest of the pictures on my Facebook page. Come join me there.
While you guys are off having fun at the beach I'm slaving away here in Southeastern PA trying to find room for more toys that keep showing up at our house. I've been trying to get rid of old pictures so we can fit the new ones in the box. Some are worth keeping, so here are a few of the better ones I've found. I'll keep my eye out for anything blackmail-worthy and let you each know individually.
Wasn't it just yesterday that Connie pantsed, or rather 'shortsed' Ross in Kriner Diner? So where did all these grey hairs come from and why is there a minivan in my garage?
We may eat better now. We certainly drink better beer. Who notices receding hairlines and proceeding stomachs. We are still Masquers. Everytime we converge again, sometimes not seeing each other for years, all those mortage payments and incompetent bosses slip away.
We remember watching the sun come up over The Wall. We discuss the McMansioning of America. The past makes us who we are, but we don't need to live in it.
You Know I Can't Hear You When the Water's Running