The Lost Decade

In the film The Lost Weekend our protagonist Don is an alcoholic, washed-up writer. He's not a deplorable man by any means. He has a brother and a girlfriend who love him and desperately want to see him sober and healthy. Undeniably, he does do some despicable things and yet could be a talented writer if he had a stronger sense of self-worth and stayed away from the bottle. The film is titled as such because our "hero" goes on a bender for five days over a long weekend. 

Although I'm not an alcoholic, I have suffered with mental illness including anorexia nervosa and depression. Like Don I've had feelings of unworthiness and shame. Like Don I have disappointed friends and family at times who only wished to see me healthy. My worst days took place during the 1990s. Sometimes I feel as though I lost a decade. I lost a decade to illness. 

The decade began routinely enough. I don't recall bemoaning the ending of the eighties. The new year didn't seem all that different. After all, Bush was still president, and the MC Hammer song "U Can't Touch This" hit the top 40 in April 1990. I spent the first year of the decade finishing up college. The year wasn't much different for me than 1989. Of course, I now know some big things were happening I was unaware of or paid little attention to. For instance, the U.S. invaded Panama on January 3rd removing Manuel Noriega from power and on January 31st a McDonald's restaurant was opened in Moscow. As the new decade progressed, we eventually witnessed the Persian Gulf War, Yugoslav Wars, Ruby Ridge standoff, Waco Siege, Oklahoma City bombing, Rwandan genocide, Heaven's Gate mass suicide, Princess Diana's death, and the Columbine High School massacre. 

During my last semester of college, I finally decided to visit the Career Development Center to figure out what I might be able to do with my degree. My sister had advised me to visit the CDC when I was a mere freshman. I hadn't listened. At least I was wise enough to visit them now and also attend some free classes geared toward developing job search skills. I learned about resumes and cover letters, interviewing, and networking. I even had some people write letters of recommendation for me. 

The year I graduated from college I was nonetheless still a naive kid who had no idea what to do. I'd gotten good grades and praise from professors. I'd planned on graduate school and yet hadn't really looked into it too seriously. A liberal arts degree with no work experience isn't exactly noteworthy. I'm not saying a bachelor's degree is useless, but I hadn't exactly been thinking ahead. 

I should have been starting a wonderful new life as an independent young man. But it didn't work out that way. I finally took a job that was marginally related to my psychology degree. But the new job didn't go so well for various reasons. I returned home from the city abruptly. Some might say I turned tail. I was back living with my parents. I started working at a fast-food joint to keep making some money. I was ashamed of the briefcase I'd received as a graduation gift that was still in the box it came in. It's not that I thought I was above a food service job. But what would people think of the so-called college graduate?

Our protagonist Don Birnam from The Lost Weekend had some trouble after college as well. 

Don Birnam : You know, in college I passed for a genius. They couldn't get out the college magazine without one of my stories. Boy, was I hot. Hemingway stuff. I reached my peak when I was 19. Sold a piece to the Atlantic Monthly, reprinted in the Readers Digest. Who wants to stay in college when he's Hemingway? My mother bought me a brand new typewriter and I moved right in on New York. Well, the first thing I wrote, that didn't quite come off. And the second I dropped, the public wasn't ready for that one. I started a third and a fourth. Only, by then, somebody began to look over my shoulder and whisper, in a thin, clear voice, like the E-string on a violin, "Don Birnam," he whispered, "is not good enough."

I regained some confidence working that simple food service job. I made friends and even went on a date with a co-worker. But a few more trials came my way in life and soon I was depressed and supposedly had an eating disorder. That's what a therapist thought anyway.

"Ridiculous!" I declared.  

"You can't live on granola bars and Coca-Cola."

"Watch me."

"You may need hospitalization."

"Are you out of your f-cking mind?"

"May I call your mother and talk to her about this?"

"No! F-ck no!"

He was the first therapist I'd ever spoken with in my life. I believe he administered a mental status exam during our first meeting although I didn't know it was called that at the time. I think he asked me where I was and the date. I think he asked me who the president was. He asked me to describe some current event.

I told him I'd seen David Letterman interview Madonna a few weeks ago. I explained that the profanity-laced interview was rather crude but humorous and that I was impressed by how many times she used the f-word and sexual innuendo while smoking a cigar. 

I'm just kidding. The interview with Madonna really did happen but when he asked me about current events I merely said, "There's a lot of trouble in Bosnia right now." 

My so-called therapy didn't last too long seeing as I'd never wanted to go in the first place. 

I got a new job at a big-box retail store as a cashier. Once again, I met some amazing people as co-workers and customers. But more trials and tribulations came my way. My hope began to fade. 

"Someday I will go to graduate school. Someday I will find the perfect get-rich- quick scheme. Someday I'll make something of myself."

But things got worse. I stopped mentioning graduate school. I stopped caring much whether I lived or died. I sort of went through the motions of living. 

Don Birnam : I've never done anything! I'm not doing anything! I never will do anything! Zero! Zero! Zero!

I hated the nineties. Or so I thought at the time. I didn't care much for Clinton and Gore. I wasn't impressed by people recycling or moved by their fatalistic views regarding global warming. I didn't care for grunge, boy bands, or gansta rap. I didn't like the fashion. I was angered by the notion that the eighties had been a decade of greed and glitz. 

"The 1980s ushered in a gilded age of greed and selfishness, of irresponsibility and excess, and of neglect." - Bill Clinton 

Sure, there was a lot of materialism embraced by yuppies and many others and, yes, hostile takeovers and leveraged buyouts and mega-mergers really were a thing. But financial sins would occur in the nineties as well. People were raking in money during the nineties. Financial inequality didn't disappear. The wealthy were just more discreet about spending their money. And why were the super-rich like Bill Gates and Warren Buffet exempt from being branded as greedy? I know. I know what you're thinking. They're saints compared to, say, Ivan Boesky and Michael Milken. Touche'!

Did you know that charitable giving actually soared during the so-called greedy eighties? Yes, greed and charitable giving could go hand in hand I suppose. Perhaps some other variables were at play as well. But my resources tell me that charitable giving truly soared during the so-called decade of greed regardless of how one might want to tease the data. I'm just saying.

But I digress.

When I began to look skeletal around 1997, I decided to enter an eating disorder program on a hospital psychiatric unit. The psychology major was now on a psych unit himself. I sat through a lot of group therapy and restored a lot of weight. I returned home but decided to try living in a group home with social support. Eventually I got my own apartment. I even started working fulltime. 

I was discharged from the hospital in early 1998. Although it was still the same decade things looked and felt a bit different now. The music irritated me less although I still wasn't a big fan of, say, Britney Spears. I began reading books and writing. I watched TV and movies. I bought a CD player and a bunch of CDs. I visited my parents a lot but had some degree of independence. I wouldn't say I felt like a normal human being by any means. But I was trying. 

Some strange things happened that summer of 1998. My libido returned with a surge rivaling that of my teenage years. I was, in a word, horny. Why was I noticing females' legs? Why was the college couple flirting in my checkout aisle stirring something within me? My doctor told me I was perhaps going through some big hormonal changes after gaining a lot of weight and eating on a regular basis. 

I started reading bodybuilding magazines again. Whey protein powder and creatine were all the rage. MRPs (meal replacement products) like MET-Rx were popular as well. Smoothies went mainstream in the 1990s. Everyone wanted to drink a smoothie. Don't forget step aerobics, 8-Minute Abs, Buns of Steel, Tae Bo, and Thighmaster.

Some of us came to know informercial titan and exercise guru Tony Little. He was very enthusiastic and was fond of yelling, "It's technique!" He screamed "technique" a lot to emphasize proper form and balance. He became "America's Personal Trainer."

He screams this to anyone who'll listen: "If your car were broken, would you take it to an experienced mechanic or to a celebrity? If you needed an operation, would you go to a qualified surgeon or to a celebrity? Your body is the most important thing you own. Will you trust it to a fitness EXPERT or to a CELEBRITY?"

Some people don't know his story. He was a bodybuilder at one time on a path to win the Mr. America title. 

"Having won Mr. Florida, Tony began training for the Mr. America Bodybuilding Championship. In 1983, he was involved in a car accident which seriously injured his back, shoulders and neck, and left him no chance at becoming Mr. America. For two years he battled depression and addiction. He gained weight.

Through a chance meeting with an acquaintance, he attended a health convention in Orlando. Even though he felt he could barely help himself, on the way home he felt as if he were destined to help others. He couldn’t understand it; yet he couldn’t shake the feeling. Days later, watching TV, he caught Jane Fonda, the actress-turned-fitness-guru, leading a workout. Now that was something he understood better than most — fitness training. He wanted to start his own cable fitness show, and he wanted to talk to the audience about how to become fit — the science behind it — not just show them how to do the exercises. But he had no start-up money. What he did have was belief in himself and a positive mindset."

I began to realize the decade had never really been all that bad. For instance, I loved Seinfeld. I loved the entire TGIF television programming block that aired on ABC on Friday nights including shows like Full House. I enjoyed The Wonder Years and Boy Meets World. I enjoyed Blossom, Saved by the Bell, Mad About You, and Wings. I began to realize I'd enjoyed a lot of musical acts throughout the decade like Green Day, No Doubt, Matchbox 20, and Red Hot Chili Peppers. There were some great films like Home Alone, Titanic, and Austin Powers. And what about Vanilla Ice, Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch, "Achy Breaky Heart", "Macarena", Spice Girls, Roseanne, Frasier, Home Improvement, Harry Potter, the reunification of Germany, the end of the Cold War, the end of apartheid, the advent of the World Wide Web, Euro Disney, and the opening of the Channel Tunnel?  I hadn't totally lost touch with the world. I was isolated to be sure, but I hadn't disowned my family and dropped off the face of the Earth. 

When the year 2000 was approaching some people were concerned. Would the so-called millennium or Y2K computer issue be resolved? Was the apocalypse coming? No, I survived as did the rest of the world. 

In the new millennium I would have new adventures and new struggles. I would be hospitalized again. I would relocate to a new city. I would find new jobs. I would even fall in love and date. I'd even have some writing published in a small sort of way. I watched my niece and nephews grow up. I saw my family members and classmates get older. I saw the world change dramatically in the new millennium. Now everyone wants expensive coffee from Starbucks, merchandise from Amazon, streaming services for television and music, and an app that allows them to have food delivered to their door from McDonald's. But I have to admit it's amazing. 

Sometimes it's still hard for me to think about the decade of the nineties without cringing or feeling ill. Too many bad memories. Yet, as time goes by, I find myself having softer feelings for the decade. Some people would argue the decade was the last gasp of the analog era. Analog would eventually give way to digital. But during the nineties not everyone had a cellphone, and a personal computer didn't feel mandatory. Smart phones didn't exist yet. People still listened to CDs on a boombox. Some people continued to use VCRs unwilling to buy a DVD player. Some people continued to watch network television on a bulky old TV. Sometimes the decade seems very quaint to me now and not all that different from the eighties.

Here's a funny anecdote. When I first heard of digital cameras I was mystified.

This will never catch on. Pictures belong in photo albums and picture frames. Who's going to sit at a damn computer to look at photos? 

I was somewhat placated when my family pointed out that one could still print out digital pictures on special photo paper. Now we all snap photos with our phones and everything is online. Photo albums and picture frames seem to be relics of the past. Was I ever wrong about digital. Guys used to carry a picture of their girlfriend in their wallet. Now I suppose they have several pictures on their phone. Doesn't seem quite as romantic, does it?

My parents attended a class reunion a few years ago. They spoke to a man who filled them in on what he'd been doing since graduation. He mentioned going through a dark period at some point in his life. He didn't elaborate. But I've had my dark periods and I realize more and more that a lot of you have had your own dark periods. Perhaps we've all had our lost weekends. 

Don Birnam: I'm gonna put this whole weekend down, minute by minute...The way I stood in there packing my suitcase, only my mind wasn't on the suitcase, and it wasn't on the weekend. Nor was it on the shirts I was putting in the suitcase either. My mind was hanging outside the window. It was suspended just about eighteen inches below. And out there in that great big concrete jungle, I wonder how many others that are like me. Poor bedeviled guys on fire with thirst. Such comical figures to the rest of the world as they stagger blindly towards another binge, another bender, another spree.

I think Don thought his book might give others hope by reading his story. Maybe I can do the same.

Bountiful Harvests and Bitter Harvests

For many, the autumn season is an enjoyable time. Individuals enjoy slipping into cozy sweaters, watching football, seeing fall foliage change colors, seeing the corn harvest, eating hearty fall soups, and drinking hot apple cider or pumpkin spice lattes.

Some individuals may have an unofficial way of marking the beginning of fall. Although the first day of autumn (autumnal equinox) usually occurs on September 22nd or 23rd, some individuals may use other events to mark the arrival of fall. Some people see Labor Day as their last chance to have a big blowout to end the summer season. Some people stop wearing white and pastel colors after Labor Day though they may not necessarily dig out their sweaters just yet. 

Some parents and children may view the return to school as marking the beginning of fall. When one returns to school it doesn't feel like summer anymore regardless of the date on the calendar or the weather. For some, the start of the football season signifies the return of fall. Many are joyous with the return of fall. 

I used to enjoy fall myself. I enjoyed watching high school football, Homecoming, going to bonfires, going on hayrides, seeing corn harvested, Halloween, and Thanksgiving. But now fall seems to simply remind me of its close proximity to the cold winter months that lie ahead. 

I still enjoy fall in spirit. I like the imagery associated with fall like Indian corn, corn shocks standing in fields, pumpkins, gourds, hayrides, and bonfires. 

A corn shock is a group of corn stalks bundled together and tied up for drying. Corn shocks standing in corn fields were once a common sight during harvest. This method of drying corn was replaced once mechanical harvesters appeared on the scene. Today corn shocks are more commonly seen in fall displays that may also include pumpkins, gourds, and straw bales.

Many churches have fall festivals or bazaars. I attended our church's fall festival for many years while growing up. At the festival's auction, my grandpa would always be the highest bidder on the jelly roll his neighbor made. I usually got to enjoy a slice of it. 

Some organizations, including several bible camps, have a fall festival and quilt auction including a meal. Hog roast, anyone?

Some cities, towns, and organizations even have scarecrow contests and scarecrow festivals each fall. 

I didn't realize how popular chrysanthemums (mums) were as a fall flower until I worked for a big-box retailer. Our home and garden department sold a lot of mums. I recall flowerpots specifically labeled hardy mum. A favorite for outdoor fall decor, mums burst into bloom just when many other summer flowers dwindle in the cooler autumn weather. 

Some vegetables can be harvested in the cool fall weather as well. I'd never heard of a fall garden or late-season crops. A fall garden can be easier for some because of not having to deal with the heat as well as the fall garden needing less maintenance. However, if you love tomatoes then you're still going to need that spring or summer garden. I guess the feasibility of a fall garden depends on where you live and your first frost date. Some vegetables like broccoli and cauliflower are considered hardy. I know you love broccoli and cauliflower!

I seem to recall raking leaves in the fall. Now some experts are saying it's better for the environment if you don't rake up all the leaves, bag them, and take them to the landfill. However, a thick layer of fallen leaves can deprive grass of sunlight. Leaving at least some of the leaves in your yard can help fertilize your grass and other plants, provide shelter for animals and even reduce emissions from landfills. Having a healthy lawn does not depend on hunting down every stray leaf you can find. 

When I was a high school freshman, my classmates and I had to participate in our biology teacher's annual leaf collecting project. The project involved finding, pressing, and drying leaves representative of the trees of Northeast Iowa. I enjoyed walking in the sunshine with our teacher. He would stop at various trees and identify them by their leaves. And he'd describe them and what their wood was useful for. For instance, certain woods were good for sporting equipment while harder woods were good for tool handles. I didn't care much for the leaf project itself though. Fortunately, my grandpa helped me find and identify a lot of leaves that strengthened my collection considerably. 

I enjoyed the school's Homecoming activities each year. The parade, floats, pep rally, bonfire, pageantry of the Homecoming King and Queen competition, and football game were always enjoyable. And when I was in high school, I could finally attend the homecoming dance. My junior year Homecoming wasn't quite so enjoyable though. 

Ann, my girlfriend from another school, backed out of attending my school's homecoming dance with me. I won't go so far as to say that she reneged on a promise because no promise had been made. She was my girlfriend, so I just assumed she'd attend the dance with me. I'd even jokingly typed up a letter inviting her to attend the homecoming dance with me though it actually just seemed like a given to me at the time.

She claimed she had to attend her own team's game that same night. Even though she wasn't a varsity cheerleader, supposedly she was required by the cheerleading coach to attend the game and support the team. I wasn't really buying it. But what could I do? I was a quiet guy who wasn't exactly into confronting people. Later on, my suspicions were confirmed. She simply didn't want to go to the dance for certain reasons she didn't feel comfortable revealing to me at the time. 

I wasn't that upset. And I knew the FFA/FHA Sweetheart Dance was coming up in late October or early November. We planned on attending that dance. Then in early October she dumped me! What did this girl have against going to a dance with me? Had I done something wrong? Had I taken her for granted? Was I boring or arrogant at times? Was I reaping the bitter harvest of some past actions I was unaware of? The autumn season wasn't going so well for me. 

Interestingly, Ann and I had met in autumn a year earlier. We'd met at a church youth group retreat that involved prayer, worship, games, a hayride, and a cookout. We bonded while eating hot dogs at the cookout and I held her hand under a blanket on the hayride. We became a couple after that weekend. But now, a year later, it was over. 

While mourning the loss of my girlfriend that fall, one evening a couple of friends stopped by our family farm and asked if I wanted to go to a haunted house with them. The Jaycees were hosting a haunted house in a town nearby in an old barn the college formerly used as a summer theatre facility. 

Yes, Ye Old Cowbarn was going to be used as a haunted house. For five days the old barn would greet visitors each evening from 6:30 to 10:30 PM. I told my friends I was in. Why not? Visiting a haunted house had to beat moping over some girl, right?

As we approached the short line of people waiting to enter the haunted house, I noticed Rachel. I'd met her two summers ago at the drive-in theater. She didn't go to our school, but I'd ran into her from time to time. She was standing with two other girls who were obviously identical twins. Rachel and I talked a bit while my two friends became friendly with the twins. We, of course, decided we should all walk through the haunted house together. 

Rachel got scared in the darkness at some point and grabbed my hand which made me feel manly. And having this cute brunette hold my hand felt nice after recently being dumped. We walked through a room with a strobe light that caused a stop-motion or slow-motion effect that was cool but a bit disturbing. Finally, we reached the end and walked out a door into the back parking lot.

After we walked out, I let go of Rachel's hand. Then I noticed each of my friends still holding hands with a twin sister. I guess fright leads to romance sometimes in a roundabout way. I didn't see Rachel again for a while after that evening though my friends dated the twins for a while. In an odd twist of fate, Ann and I got back together - after the Sweetheart Dance. What did this girl have against attending a dance with me?

The fall of my senior year, my buddy Brad and I went stag to the Sweetheart Dance. We cruised around in his Monte Carlo for a while listening to music cassettes on his car stereo before arriving at the dance. I must admit I think we each had a cup of raspberry, er, um, soda pop that evening. 

We ended up in the town where Ann lived. I hadn't seen her since the previous summer. We hadn't been dating for several months. But we decided to visit her house. One of her parents answered the door when I knocked. They were a bit surprised to see me and Brad but not shocked by any means. They said Ann was in her usual haunt down in basement and that we could just head on down. Ann didn't seem all that surprised to find me walking down the staircase into her basement hideaway. 

She, Brad, and I talked for a bit. I believe she had a new boyfriend, one from her own school this time. I'd met him before and he seemed like a nice guy. I think he was away playing in a football playoff game. I'm not sure why Ann wasn't there. We didn't stay too long and soon Brad and I were off again. 

Ann told me later that her parents had remarked I was a bit livelier and more boisterous than usual the night I had visited. They knew me as a rather quiet boy so they may have been amused to see a different side of me. Maybe it was that cup of raspberry pop I'd had that evening. 

At any rate, Brad and I made it to the dance safely that evening. I did talk to one of Ann's classmates that evening at the dance who was dating a friend of mine at the time. That was my last Sweetheart Dance. I was never once nominated to be a Sweetheart candidate. 

I'd always enjoyed Halloween. Dressing in costumes and extorting adults for candy was fun. Do I like candy corn? Yes! My sisters and I would carve pumpkins to make jack-o'-lanterns. Well, my mother did the carving and I mainly watched. I seem to recall Disney's 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, with the giant squid attacking the Nautilus, playing on TV one blustery evening while we were carving pumpkins. Or perhaps, that's just the way I like to remember it. Pumpkin pie used to be my favorite and my mother made delicious pumpkin bars.

Yes, I watched It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. "I got a rock." And we always watched A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving in which Charlie Brown feeds his guests a feast of toast, popcorn, pretzel sticks, and jellybeans. 

As a boy, I was rather intrigued by the image of Frankenstein with his flat head, stitched forehead, and bolts in his neck. I believe my mother explained that the bolts were electrodes meant to bring the monster to life via electricity. Later in life I read Mary Shelley's Frankenstein and found that she gave very little description of the monster or how he was brought to life. The monster didn't really scare me. I thought he was fascinating. 

Dracula, and vampires in general, are a bit more frightening. But even Dracula seemed cool because he had fangs, wore a cape, and could turn into a bat. 

During my senior year I went to a different haunted house than the old barn. Brad was along this time. My group didn't meet any girls although we did get kicked out. I believe one member of our group tore down a ghost of some sort that was suspended on a wire. As you can imagine, the management wasn't too happy about this turn of events. Suddenly all of the lights in the haunted house came on and we were told to exit the premises immediately and not return. After we left, I thought Brad was going to get in a fight when someone commented on his height. 

"Hey, you're tall," he said to Brad.

"Hey, you're ugly!" was Brad's reply. 

Then we drove back to our home turf. We went into Casey's with our costumes and masks on. But Sheila, who was cashiering, knew who we all were anyway. Brad was very disappointed. I think we eventually ended up at a party at the "bridge" where we consumed a glass of, er, um, root beer. 

One year, I spent Halloween on a psychiatric unit. I was reaping the bitter harvest of depression and weeks of starvation. I was emaciated from an eating disorder but was still allowed to attend a party held in the hospital gymnasium. Ryan pointed out a female from another unit he knew who was dressed in a sexy French maid outfit including fishnet stockings. 

I was pretty out of it but managed to glance at her and say, "Yeah, she's hot." 

Lisa, another patient from my unit, managed to convince Dr. H to let her borrow his long, white lab coat so she could pretend to be a physician.  

Being on a psychiatric unit was scary enough without a Halloween party. Another time I was in treatment, we went to an apple orchard in the fall. It was fun but we were each were required to eat an apple turnover. We made apple crisp in treatment as well. 

We used to harvest apples from trees on our family farm and my grandparents' farm when I was younger. Caramel apples seem to make me think of fall as well. I've been to an orchard but never a cider mill. 

When I worked for the college food service, one year we offered plastic-wrapped popcorn balls during October. After work some evenings I would sneak a few back to my dorm room. Caramel corn makes me think of fall as well. 

Walden Pond offered their sourdough pancakes in the spring and again in the fall. It was nice eating pancakes in a lodge on a brisk Sunday in fall. 

Many agricultural events take place in the fall. The Farm Progress Show is held each fall as is the National FFA Convention both of which I've attended. I've attended the World Dairy Expo in Madison, Wisconsin in autumn on a few occasions and my parents once attended the Royal Agricultural Winter Fair in Toronto in November. 

Although my father's side of the family has some German heritage, I've never been to an Oktoberfest celebration. Oktoberfest USA is held in La Crosse, Wisconsin each year which is fairly close to where I grew up. But Munich, Germany is where it all began. 

Oktoberfest–a rite of autumn–owes its origins to the 1810 marriage celebration of Bavaria’s Crown Prince Ludwig (later to become King Ludwig I) and Princess Therese of Saxony-Hildburghausen. Revelers had so much fun at the Munich festivities that they decided to continue the observance annually. 

I have to admit I used to enjoy stories about the Mayflower and the pilgrims as well as stories about the first Thanksgiving. But it would seem the pilgrims have fallen out of favor over the years since I was a boy. Stories of the pilgrims and of the so-called first Thanksgiving may be politically incorrect now, but I still enjoy them. 

I've never been to a corn maze. I've never had a pumpkin spice latte. I still enjoy hearty soups like ham and bean, chicken noodle, and chili. I enjoy caramel corn and hot chocolate. Halloween just sort of comes and goes now without me paying much attention. Thanksgiving still seems to be the least commercialized holiday. I was disappointed upon discovering my alma mater now holds the Sweetheart Dance in February. 

Speaking of dances - which one of you ladies is going to ask me to the Sadie Hawkins dance?

Enchanting Evening at the Supper Club

The blond-haired girl I picked up for my date that evening was the only girl I'd ever taken to eat at a fancy restaurant. I had dined with Ann once at Gus and Tony's Pizza and Steak House which was rather intimate and special even if we simply shared a pizza. And I suppose sharing a plate of nachos with Diane at Taco Bill's late one evening was pleasant. 

I'd went to the Black Angus in Prairie du Chien one evening with some other FFA members and had a steak. I went to The Barn Restaurant (also in Prairie du Chien) the fall of my senior year with some of the Homecoming Court and ate fish in the big dining room of a converted barn with a nice view. I'd dined on fried clams with my family at the Cliff House Resort Motel and Restaurant. In my younger days, I'd even dined with my buddy Chris and his parents at the Heidelberg. 

But I'd never really taken a date out for an evening of fine dining. Haute cuisine was not in my vocabulary. In my world, a so-called supper club was about as close to fine dining as I was going to get. 

Jane was the only girl I'd ever taken to Livingood's Supper Club. I'm calling her Jane because she looked like Jayne Mansfield. Well, perhaps she looked more like Marilyn Monroe. But you get the idea. Jane and I had some history together. She was free and I was free, so it seemed like the perfect opportunity. Gus and Tony's may have been a safer choice. They had a number of items to choose from. Mabe's Pizza would have been a sound choice as well. Everyone seemed to love Mabe's Pizza. But how could those establishments ever match the ambience of Livingood's? The aura of this venue was going to thoroughly charm my date (HYPERBOLE). 

Jane and I had dressed up a bit for this special date. That is to say, we didn't wear blue jeans. When we arrived, a waitress in a dark uniform seated us. I held Jane's chair like a proper gentleman (well not really but I should have). Our waitress asked us if we wanted anything from the bar as was the custom.

"Can I start you off with something from the bar?"

"I'll have a Jack and Coke, please. And my lady friend will have a glass of chardonnay."

Just kidding. We asked for a couple of sodas, and she gave us our menus. We decided to have their famous fried fish served family style. 

I liked the character of Livingood's. The restaurant was dimly lit which accented the candles on each table. The walls were scarlet with some sort of black pattern on them which I believe is called damask. The table linens may have been similar. The most interesting feature for me was the faux fireplace. Even though it was fake, I enjoyed the fire glowing in the fireplace.

I'd been to Livingood's several times with my parents and sisters. I can remember the street of the small town being lined with cars on busy Saturday nights. At one time, I believe the cocktail napkins at Livingood's featured an image of the restaurant as well as an image of the local cheese factory on the edge of town. I guess they were proud of their small town. 

When I was a little boy, I enjoyed drinking my pop out of a Collins glass and pretending it was a cocktail. I liked the big bowl of crackers they had to choose from at the salad bar. I liked the ones that were like small bread sticks so I could pretend I was smoking a cigar. I liked the carrot sticks and I enjoyed trying blue cheese dressing. I even ate the pickled herring. When I was served shrimp with a side of cocktail sauce, I had to ask my parents what the red sauce that looked like ketchup in the paper cup was. Livingood's often garnished one's plate with a sprig of parsley. I had to ask my parents about that as well. I believe I was told that it was edible but mainly for decoration. 

Livingood's was also unique because its patrons were served a small loaf of fresh bread with their meal. I simply preferred the standard dinner rolls most restaurants served but the small loaves of bread were certainly distinctive. Livingood's was also novel by serving something called Boston baked potatoes (a baked potato thickly sliced and then deep fried). They also served french fries and baked potatoes, but the Boston baked were special. 

A lot of restaurants used the term "supper club" in their names back then. For example:

Valhalla Supper Club

Nob Hill Supper Club

Wagon Wheel Supper Club 

Heidelberg Supper Club (aka Heidelberg Gardens)

Food Ranch Supper Club 

White House Supper Club

White Springs Supper Club

Pink Elephant Supper Club 

I believe that my father once took his date (his future wife and my future mother) to Blue Heaven Supper Club for a nice meal. Blue Heaven!

Many interesting restaurants existed back then including the Red Lantern, Humphry Cafe, Fireplace Restaurant, Branding Iron, Red Vest, Pirate's Den, Riv Aire, and Pirillo's Sportsmen Club. In my college days, I would learn of places like Carvers and the Brown Bottle. One could find a lot of supper clubs and inns like the State Line Inn, Stone Hearth Inn, Fireman's Inn, and Ox Yoke Inn. Some restaurants used both names like the Highlander Inn and Supper Club. Some establishments were known as Such-and-Such Restaurant & Lounge. I even found an ad for Stone Hearth Inn Restaurant & Lounge. I knew of names like Nordic Lounge, Friar Tuck's Lounge, Fireplace Lounge, Horseshoe Lounge, and Spare Room Lounge. You may have guessed the Spare Room Lounge was in a bowling alley. I guess a lounge is basically a bar although it may serve food and have a more extensive drink menu seeming more upscale than a mere bar or pub. 

A lot of steaks, seafood, and fried food were served back then. Promises of Alaskan King Crab Legs and prime rib. I learned that 1/4 chicken meant two pieces and that 1/2 chicken meant four pieces. You would have been hard pressed to find a boneless, skinless chicken breast in a restaurant back then. Many places advertised having a buffet or smorgasbord. Don't forget your choice of potato and of course the salad bar is included. All you can eat!

Unfortunately, the older I got the less I liked Livingood's. It wasn't their fault. True to their name they were a supper club. They focused on a limited menu and doing certain things very well. They didn't serve burgers expect perhaps on the kid's menu. They didn't serve spaghetti, lasagna, or pizza. They didn't serve diner specials like meatloaf, chicken fried steak, chicken pot pie, or hot beef sandwiches. I'm sure their steaks were great, but I didn't care for steaks. So, it seemed like I was limited to fish or chicken which I became tired of. Perhaps I should have gone there during the Lenten season when they served their Lenten Seafood Platter including their famous fish, delicious scallops, jumbo fried frog legs, and Louisiana style peeled shrimp with choice of potatoes and all you can eat salad bar. That would have been interesting.

A new proprietor came along at some point. He had a special oven installed to perfectly cook prime rib although that may have been after I went off to college. One other significant change he made was the addition of a Sunday brunch which was quite delicious and popular. But he kept the famous fish and the popular name everyone was familiar with - Livingood's.

Although it had lost its charm for me, Livingood's always had that air of a classy place. And I knew I had to take at least one date to such a nice place. Back in the 1970s a couple may have spent the entire evening at a supper club. They may have had a few drinks and a nice meal followed by some live music by a group like the Blue Flames. Perhaps they might even share the supper club staple called the Grasshopper Cocktail. 

To make a grasshopper the Midwest supper club way you blend lightly 1 shot of creme de menthe, 1 shot of creme de cacao, and 3 scoops of vanilla ice cream. Top with whipped cream. 

What would Jane and I do after dinner? Even though Frankville may have been a small town (village, hamlet) or even dismissed by some as just a "spot in the road" we could drive to the edge of town and sit in a small park with a playground and ball diamond and perhaps listen to Z-93 on the car radio. A 15-minute drive could get us to Moe Park on Old Stage Road where we could steam up the windows if you know what I mean. Maybe we could catch a movie in Decorah or hang out at Phelps Park or Palisades Park. Perhaps some dance hall or ballroom like Matter's, Dreamland, Lakeside, or the Inwood was having a teen dance. Maybe The Toe Tappers were playing somewhere or better yet the rock band Gemini. Maybe rock station Z-93 featuring disc jockey Brad Dinsmore was playing somewhere. But for now, I was just happy to be with this beautiful young woman in a classy restaurant. 

Jane and I enjoyed our fish and Boston baked potatoes. We, of course, got to take a trip to the salad bar as part of our meal. She cut some slices from our small loaf of bread. I did not pretend my Collins glass of 7-Up was a cocktail nor did I pretend my breadstick cracker was a cigar. But I did feel quite grown up sitting across from this beautiful young lady in the candlelight with a faux fire burning in the fireplace nearby. I was right about the ambience. It was an enchanting evening. 

C'est La Vie or Surviving My College Freshman Year

The summer before I left for college, I remember the music video for "Walk This Way" by Run-DMC and Aerosmith being in heavy rotation on MTV. I watched the video a couple of times at the house of a young lady I'd met at the county fair that summer. I also saw the movies Top Gun and Ferris Bueller's Day Off with her before heading off for my freshman year of college. 

I'd spent the summer lifting weights religiously three days a week. I believe in late May or early June I bought a mail-order bodybuilding course and kept at it all summer. I looked lean and muscular when I went off to school. 

I had just turned 19 that summer and the legal drinking age was being changed to 21 in September. However, since I had turned the legal drinking age of 19 just prior to that, a so-called grandfather clause allowed me to be treated as a 21-year-old for liquor law purposes. Consequently, I knew I'd be able to go to the college bar or any other bar I cared to give my patronage. Also, I could buy alcohol anywhere I chose. I'm not suggesting I planned on drinking copious amounts of alcohol or being a party animal, but I did appreciate the advantageous position I found myself in. 

My sister was a junior already attending the small, liberal arts college I'd now also be attending. Some other students from our high school were also on campus. I'd visited her plenty of times and liked the campus. I was looking forward to college. The problem, however, was that I didn't really know what I wanted to do with my life. I guess I thought I'd go to college and figure out my life's path as I went. If I could have found a good paying job right out of high school, I probably wouldn't have gone to college.

I'd only been an average high school student, graduating with about a 2.6 grade point average. My ACT score had been decent, and the college had accepted me, so I decided to give it a shot. The wrestling coach had called me over the summer because I'd been fairly successful in that sport during high school. I told him I wasn't sure if I wanted to wrestle in college and we left it at that. 

The Dorm 

My roommate had contacted me over the summer to say "hello" and discuss what we might need for our room. He was impressed to find that I had qualified for the state tournament in wrestling. He was a basketball player and would be joining the college team. He seemed like a nice guy over the phone.

Mark was about the best roommate I could have hoped for. He had also attended a small high school in Iowa. We were both athletes. We were both interested in dating the opposite sex. 

We lived on the first floor of our dorm - 1 South. My older sister lived in the same dorm but on the third floor I believe.

A lounge with cable television, vending machines, and a kitchen area was located on the ground level. A small gathering of people appeared around 10:30 each evening to watch M*A*S*H reruns. 

Initiation for 1 South involved a lot of running, push-ups, and shaving cream. Thankfully, we had no alcohol forced upon us, but we did have a floor party toward the end of the year at a nearby park. 

Each freshman guy on the floor had to locate at least one freshman female student to introduce to the upperclassmen on the floor. Fortunately, I found three young ladies to help me out. One of the young ladies was named Angie. She was a cute blond that I ended up having some classes with. 

Our neighbors next door had a sign posted on their door for a while. 

Position available for beautiful, young female. Acquire within. 

I'm sure they meant to write "inquire within" but I understood what their aim was.

A few years later I would see a funny sign on someone else's door. 

Dancing is the vertical expression of a horizontal desire.

The guys on the floor were all friendly. I was still a quiet, introverted person then. So, some of the guys I got to know well while others I didn't talk to at all. Three guys shared a room across the hall from us. Andy, the big one was nicknamed Hoss. The smaller guy with a mustache and beard was nicknamed Wolf. And the tall basketball player went by the moniker Ditch. I watched a VHS copy of The Breakfast Club with Wolf one day. 

Orientation

Orientation took place for a few days before classes began. I met a cute girl named Mary in my orientation group. Her mother worked in the Controller's Office on campus, so I believe she and her older sister received free tuition.

I visited Mary one day after lunch and she was just getting up for the day. She had just gotten out of bed and yet decided to have a beer. She offered me one as well, but I demurred as I had just finished eating lunch. However, she insisted so I acquiesced and had one. Mary and I explored campus a bit before classes began trying to acquaint ourselves with the buildings we'd be having our classes in. When looking through an old campus newspaper, I realized both Mary and I were absent from our orientation picture? What were we doing at the time?

I recall taking part in some sort of orientation games one evening I was told would be fun. Of course, it wasn't. Nonetheless, I believe that Playfair still bills itself as "The Most Popular Campus Attraction For New Student Orientation." I've also read, "Playfair is the most popular campus attraction in history for new student orientation programs."

To be fair I am a quiet, introverted person. So, it wasn't really a good fit for me. As I recall, I found myself being asked to have a fake argument with a freshman girl I didn't know. I have a feeling she was on the quiet side as well so that activity didn't go too well. I seem to recall all of the freshmen being asked to throw our shoes into a big pile toward the end of the night. Then we were tasked with locating our shoes out of hundreds of pairs of shoes. I truly thought I was never going to find my shoes that night. I wanted to share a few choice words with the Orientation Group Leader who had promised us a fun evening. 

I think before we began classes a dance was held on the so-called campus mall near Old Main. I was standing on the sidewalk alongside Mark overlooking the throng of students dancing when a girl asked me to dance. I joined her on the lawn to dance. It turned out that she knew my older sister and that she also lived in the same dorm as Mark and me. 

When the dance was over, I walked her to our dorm. We approached some double doors leading to a staircase. 

"Should we part here? Or do you want to walk me up to my room?" she asked. I, of course, walked her to her room. 

Alex (not her real name) and I became kind of close for a while. We drank and danced at the college bar. She'd visit Mark and me in our room sometimes. We both worked in the cafeteria. I think we attended a screening of West Side Story one evening in a small auditorium on campus. And some evenings we'd watch reruns of M*A*S*H at 10:30 PM in the basement lounge with some other students. She made it clear that she thought of me as more than a friend. But I wasn't sure if I wanted to commit to a serious relationship. 

I tried to keep working out with weights as I had over the summer. One day I asked some guy nearby how to adjust the pins on the squat rack. He kindly showed me what to do. 

"Are you a bodybuilder or a powerlifter?" I asked. 

"Power - pure power," he replied. "My diet's not good enough to be a bodybuilder," he added.

I got to know Mike a bit and saw him working out religiously in the weight room. He could have simply been working out to stay in shape or for sports conditioning. Perhaps my question had seemed odd to him. But my instincts must have been right because a couple years later The Trumpet had an article about how he'd just won the Drug-Free Powerlifting Midwest Regional in Chicago. 

Settling In and Campus Life

Being an introvert, I found it hard to get used to having a roommate and the claustrophobic feeling being surrounded by all the students on campus. I relished the times my roommate wasn't around, and I had the room to myself. I also learned to take long walks off campus and to find somewhat private spots in the library. 

I would sometimes visit the Pamida discount department store in College Towne Plaza which also had a popular pharmacy and a few other stores. I would mainly visit Pamida to buy a tablet of paper. If the weather was bitterly cold or I was short on time, I would just buy a tablet of paper in the college bookstore. I felt a little guilty buying a tablet of paper there knowing I was paying a lot more to have a tablet of paper with the name of the college emblazoned on it. 

I was pretty stressed out that first year of college. I hadn't cared about grades in college but now I did. I thought my very fate might depend on those grades and I did make the Dean's List a few times. I didn't care much for working in the cafeteria at first but eventually got used to it. I was so used to my old routine of school, farm chores, family dinners, TV, church, and social life that college took some getting used to. 

I eventually developed a routine for classes, studying, work, recreation, and leisure. 

The college had a daily newsletter called The Page. The weekly newspaper was The Trumpet. The Page had reminders for study sessions, club meetings, chapel and bible study schedules, and recreation and athletic events. 

For example:

STUDY SESSION for Introduction to Philosophy will meet tomorrow night at 8:00 p.m. in Luther Hall 308. 

Or:

PORNOGRAPHY and the first amendment is the title of this week's convocation address. Convocation is held tomorrow at 9:30 a.m. in Neumann Auditorium. Caution: slides will be shown - some of which may be offensive to some persons. 

The Trumpet showed up in my mailbox each week with columns, sports news, and sometimes coupons. 

Alex had reached the point where she insisted on settling whether we were going to be a couple or not. I told her I was too stressed out and too concerned about academics to be in a relationship. 

After Christmas break, I was asked to join the wrestling team. They needed a 126 pounder. I joined but wasn't much help. I was kind of small to be at 126. Plus, my heart just wasn't in it any more like it had been in high school. 

The best part of wrestling was becoming with friends with Jeff. His nickname was Banjo and some girls thought he looked like Scott Baio. I spent a fair amount of time drinking with him and some other friendly guys in Banjo's room. Banjo liked to save the cap off every beer bottle he opened to keep track of how many he drank. One evening a couple of girls were in the room and one was trying to convince the other one to have a beer.

"Come on! Beer doesn't have any calories!" she insisted. 

I would spend some time with Banjo even after leaving the wrestling team. One night I asked to speak with him in the bathroom before leaving a party. 

"You need a condom?" he asked. I laughed and said I did. I guess he'd noticed things developing between me and a co-ed at the party and knew what I needed. 

Banjo would go on to become a very successful high school wrestling coach. 

The cafeteria didn't serve an evening meal on Sunday. So, I usually ended up walking to Hardees with some of the guys on the floor. 

Classes

One of the first things I did was switch my major to "undeclared". I realized majoring in business wasn't for me. I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. Yet here I was on this college campus hoping I'd figure it out and that all would turn out okay in the end. 

I ended up signing up for Human Expression, Introduction to Sociology, Psychology 101, and Math 107. Most of these classes fulfilled some requirement I would need to graduate from that particular college. 

For some classes, my classmates and I were informed that we needed to purchase a "blue book" from the college bookstore to be able to complete the essay questions on our exam. I'd never heard of a so-called blue book. 

A blue book is a paper booklet with lined pages that college, graduate, and sometimes high school students use to answer test questions. It has a blue paper cover. Hence, its name. I believe it may have cost ten cents for one at the time. 

I thought the blue book was kind of silly. In high school we would have simply used a sheet or two of notebook paper to answer essay questions. Perhaps a blue book is a more secure and standardized way of handling essay questions for exams I suppose. 

Human Expression class involved a lot of reading. I wasn't too interested in reading Plato, Sophocles, Goethe, Dante, or Machiavelli though. I guess Homer's Odyssey was reasonably interesting. We discussed the ancient Greeks a lot and I learned about post-and-lintel architecture. We had to memorize some classical music and artworks as well. The Birth of Venus by Botticelli is beautiful. The Cellini Salt Cellar is beautiful and intriguing. And not only did Michaelangelo create his masterpiece sculpture David, but Donatello also created a famous bronze statue entitled David as well. Our professor surprised us one morning by showing us a Bugs Bunny cartoon that featured classical music. 

Psychology 101 was interesting, and our professor tried to make it fun by playing rock and pop songs to emphasize his point. 

I felt fortunate that I'd taken typing classes in high school. I wasn't a good typist by any means, but I could do better than simply hunt and peck for keys. I knew the so-called home keys. I could type while looking at my text instead of the keys to some extent. I knew about margins, tab settings, and centering titles. 

I went off to college with a brand-new typewriter (Sears - The Electronic Scholar) and my folder of typing knowledge, guidance, and tips from typing class. I typed a lot of papers during my college years. If my ink cartridge ran out, I'd sometimes use an old electronic typewriter in the library to get by. 

The philosophy professor I had during my sophomore year required us to type one of our papers using a computer. I guess he thought the computer age was upon us so we might as well learn to use one. I knew a few people in college who owned their own Apple Macintosh personal computer though that was rare. Most of us had to wait our turn in the computer lab. Fortunately, I had a buddy who was majoring in computer science so showing me how do a little bit of word processing before hitting PRINT was no big deal. 

For my last two years of college, I had access to something called a CD-ROM database in the library. I could use the Social Sciences Index to look for journal articles that might help me when writing a paper. No more having to look for articles in big heavy books. 

Another new item during my college years was a highlighter marker used to highlight important sections of text in textbooks in, say, a fluorescent yellow. 

In 1978, a company in California named Avery Dennison bought the rights to the HI-LITER. This company was the first to use the fluorescent colors that we’ve come to associate with highlighters today.

The problem with a highlighter was that I sometimes found myself highlighting damn near everything I read.

Halfway Through

After Christmas break, I came back for a semester of new classes. I was enrolled in Person and Society, English Composition, Introduction to Literature, and a leisure services class. I also had to take a physical education/health class that was only worth a half credit. I wasn't too happy about the time involved for only a half credit, but it was required so I decided to just get it over with. 

We were required to write daily in a journal for English Composition which for me was fairly easy. The professor advised us to attend the college Artist Series seeing as we were paying an "activity fee" anyway. So, I attended a string quartet performance and A Chorus Line. I wrote about the performances in my journal. My English professor liked my writing and suggested I might want to consider looking into a field called technical writing. I had to do more writing for Intro to Lit as well.

Leisure services wasn't for me. In fact, I tried to drop the class, but the professor talked me into sticking with it. I learned a lot and I even taught some dance steps for an activity. A fellow student taught us some rudimentary breakdancing skills. I didn't know it at the time, but he would eventually become my closest college friend. 

I got through the physical education class just fine. 

Person and Society was probably the most interesting class. My roommate Mark gave me his P & S reader in trade for my Human Ex texts. We discussed a number of subjects in class like authoritarianism, gender roles, poverty, and world hunger. 

We had an article in our reader about androgyny which was a new concept to me.

From the article:

"In American society, men are supposed to be masculine, women are supposed to be feminine, and neither sex is supposed to be much like the other. If men are independent, tough and assertive, women should be dependent, sweet and retiring. A womanly woman may be tender and nurturant, but no manly man may be so.

For years we have taken these polar opposites as evidence of psychological health. Even our psychological tests of masculinity and femininity reflect this bias: a person scores as either masculine or feminine, but the tests do not allow a person to say that he or she is both.

Androgyny, in contrast, allows an individual to be both independent and tender, assertive and yielding, masculine and feminine. Thus, androgyny greatly expands the range of behavior open to everyone, permitting people to cope more effectively with diverse situations. As such, I hope that androgyny will someday come to define a new and more human standard of psychological health."

Food

To help pay my tuition costs, I participated in something called work study. For some reason, fate would find me working for the college food service, specifically in the cafeteria. Not every food service employee worked in the cafeteria. Some only worked special events. And others worked in the small restaurant on campus called the Den. 

I tried some new foods I'd never had before like turkey cheese croissants, cheddarwurst,  chimichangas, chicken Kiev, and manicotti. I was afraid to try a gyro because I didn't know how to pronounce it, know what it was, or know how to eat it. A gyro is meat cooked on a vertical rotisserie, then sliced and served wrapped or stuffed in pita bread, along with other ingredients. I believe it might be pronounced yee-roh. Sometimes my buddy Mark would nuke a "za" (microwave a small frozen pizza). Eventually the cafeteria would add a deli, grill, omelet bar, and waffle machines. They would also cater in pizza and sub sandwiches from restaurants occasionally.  

I had received as a gift a small appliance called a Hot Pot prior to going off to college. I had visions of myself making hot chocolate, soup, mac 'n' cheese, and ramen. Then I carefully read the directions which read:

The plastic hot pot with automatic temperature control is designed for heating water only. Do not use it to cook or heat foods as it does not get hot enough.

Thus, I don't think I ever used it once. Yes, I realize I could have bought a big heat-resistant bowl of some sort and probably still made ramen and soup. Cleary I could have still made hot chocolate or tea. But, at the time I felt I had been misled and figured I could just as easily use the microwave in the lounge in the basement for my heating needs. 

I believe some hot pots could be used for heating milk, soup, and liquid-based foods. I once saw a friend's hot pot encrusted with the remnants of mac 'n' cheese one day - the vestiges of some late-night carbohydrate binge. Either he'd neglected to read the instructions on his hot pot or just didn't care. 

Hardees was a close walk from campus as was Kentucky Fried Chicken. Another place called The Other Place (aka the OP) was also nearby. McDonald's was my preference but was located out at Willow Lawn Mall. Mark called it Mac Shack. We went there occasionally when I got the car keys from my older sister. Mark, Steve, and I ate at Godfather's Pizza in Willow Lawn Mall one evening as well. 

One day when Mark and I were shopping for groceries at the supermarket, he was searching for picante sauce. Salsa hadn't become the number one condiment in America yet. I don't think we'd even heard of salsa yet. However, since 1992, salsa has consistently outsold ketchup every year in the United States. 

I guess picante sauce is technically a thin salsa. I just wasn't familiar with it because my family had never eaten that product. At any rate, Mark found a supermarket employee who directed him to the picante sauce. 

I think the first time I had chips and salsa may have been at a Chi Chi's restaurant in 1988 or 1989 while visiting my older sister. At Chi Chi's, diners could have all the chips and salsa they desired. Chi Chi's even sold their salsa in supermarkets. Technically, Hormel Foods acquired the rights to produce and market Chi-Chi's branded salsa and related products in the United States. 

Microwaveable popcorn was another new snack around the same time salsa was gaining popularity.  In 1984, Act II, a shelf-stable microwave popcorn was released, becoming the first mass-marketed microwave popcorn.

Wine coolers exploded on the market in the early 1980s with California Cooler debuting in 1981. Wine coolers combined white wine and fruit juice to create a light and refreshing drink. The popular Bartles and Jaymes wine cooler line premiered in 1985. And Seagram introduced Seagram's Golden Wine Cooler in 1986 being pitched in TV commercials by popular actor Bruce Willis. 

My roommate Mark asked me and another friend to accompany him on a trip to Iowa State University during the first semester to visit some high school friends. We brought along a two-liter bottle of Sun Country Wine Cooler as a refreshment. Mark almost tricked his mother into buying a two-liter bottle of wine cooler at the supermarket until she realized it contained alcohol.  

Fun Time

I went to Joe's some Wednesday nights. That was the night to party in our college town. It was kind of a midweek break from things, I guess. Movies were often shown in Neumann Auditorium on campus on Friday evenings and only cost $1.00. They usually showed a cartoon before the film. Renting VHS tapes was becoming quite popular when I entered college and a number of places rented them. One evening my floor went to a minor league hockey game. Sometimes dances were held in Buhr Lounge and cost very little to attend. 

The Oprah Winfrey Show premiered that fall as did the sitcom ALF.

I watched four sitcoms with my roommate one evening on the TV we had in our room and felt guilty for not studying. He assured me it was good to take time off to relax once in a while. 

Sometimes I liked to go to the college library to simply read periodicals in the loft area where the newer magazines were kept. I could read magazines I wasn't used to reading like Esquire or The New Yorker. And, where else could I read Amateur Wrestling News or the National Strength and Conditioning Association Journal.

Valentine's Day brought flowers for me. The card was simply signed by a secret admirer.

May Term

May Term involved taking only one class that met every day. May Term was no joke as I had been led to believe. I took a class called Techniques of Teaching Sports Skills and May Term wasn't much fun at all. 

My floor had a party in a nearby park toward the end of the year. One of the upperclassmen thought the freshmen should still have some kind of initiation involving drinking. My roommate Mark told him we were almost sophomores now so he could forget it! At the park, some of the guys drank beer. Some of us drank alcoholic punch. One of the upperclassman's parents owned a restaurant so he had access to a commercial beverage dispensing machine which he was serving the punch from. 

Although I was rather drunk at the party, some girls showed up and I think I discovered who'd sent me the flowers for Valentine's Day. 

The next morning, I was a bit sick and a bit sticky from the punch. 

Finished and Going Home 

C'est La Vie by Robbie Nevil was high on the pop charts in 1986 and was still on the charts for a bit in 1987.

Some lyrics: 

C'est la vie, c'est la vie

That's just the way it goes (that's life)

Oh yeah

C'est la vie, c'est la vie

That's just the way it goes (that's life)

This phrase borrowed from the French and used as an idiom by English speakers means literally "that's life." It's used to indicate resigned acceptance of something that one dislikes but cannot change.

I was stressed out at college and didn't have a clue what to do with my life but tried to accept the situation and relax. I didn't like it but "that's life."

I didn't mention earlier that in English Composition class we had paired up with other students and interviewed each other. I mentioned to the young woman interviewing me that wished I was through with college. She thought that was odd coming from a freshman. I told her I didn't want to deal with the stress. 

I guess she saw college as an adventure, a journey. Students would learn new things, meet new people, experience amazing things, prepare for their purpose in life, and perhaps even find love. 

Well, I did eventually have a lot of that occur. I did meet amazing people including students and professors. I had some interesting summer jobs. I have a lot of knowledge about vast subjects. I found out I could be an A student. Yes, I even found love. 

Nevertheless, when my freshman year of college was over, I wasn't elated. I was simply relieved. 

The Secret of My Success starring Michael J. Fox came out in April 1987. 

Brantley Foster (Fox) is a recent graduate of Kansas State University who moves to New York City, where he has accepted an entry-level job as a financier. Upon arriving, he discovers that the company for which he is supposed to work has been taken over by a rival corporation. As a result, Brantley is laid off before even starting work.

Can Brantley still find success? Can he conquer New York City? Can he find love as well? Of course!

But here I was just finishing up my freshman year and wondering if I could carry on. 

The Berlin Wall Speech was delivered by United States President Ronald Reagan in West Berlin on June 12, 1987. The speech is commonly known by a key line from the middle part: "Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!" Reagan called for the General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, Mikhail Gorbachev, to open the Berlin Wall, which had encircled West Berlin since 1961.

Yes, the wall would come down a couple years later while I was still attending college. 

I checked my mailbox one last time before leaving college and heading home for the summer. Angie, the cute blond who'd helped me out during freshman initiation had left me a letter. I think she just wrote that it had been great getting to know me that year and that she hoped I would have a great summer.