My Real Memoir
- “To a real sweet guy and brain that is in most of my classes and is real neat.” ~Sherri
- “From your most hansome [sic] friend.” ~Manuel
- “You have a real bitchen personality and you’d better keep it that way!” ~Barb
- “Ya’ fink. See ya’ in the future (unhopefully).” ~Your star, Terry
- “Stay as bitchen as you are.” ~Sandee
- “To a real cool nut from an even cooler one.” ~Ray
- “I’m going to make this prediction: I think you’ll leave your mark on the world. But even if you don’t, you’ve left your mark on me, and a very nice mark it is.” ~Tina
- “Even though you’re the most popular and best actor, you’re still my [underlined four times] friend.” ~Rory
Most teenage friendships don’t last. Of the people who wrote in my 9th grade yearbook above, only Tina and Rory have remained forever friends. To my surprise and delight, however, I met another forever friend a thousand miles away from home that summer.
And my paper route made it possible.
Paperboys were supposed to be just that: paper boys. So it was my dirty little secret that, even after my fifteenth birthday when my closest friends and I piled into Mom’s car to go see Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music, I still had a paper route. Still, it was paper route money that paid for my summer YMCA Caravans. That summer’s Caravan would be the best yet, and the farthest away—all the way across the country to New York City!
My four-times-underlined friend Rory and I and a dozen other teenage boys, with sleeping bags and massive quantities of Wonder Bread, road-tripped it with an old couple (like 30-something) in a van and RV by way of the still-new interstate highway system.
I only remember one incident before we hit the midway point, but it’s a biggie: We stopped to make bologna sandwiches in a park in Amarillo, Texas, and there was a strange buzz in the air. Naturally, I assumed it was some sort of secret high-frequency government experiment, and worried aloud to a cute local girl who was there babysitting her kid brother that we’d all soon grow immense and see-through-y and attack the nearest skyscraper. The girl, Judy, laughed, explained that we wouldn’t have to be very big to attack Amarillo’s “skyscrapers,” and asked, “Haven’t y’all ever heard of cicadas before?” I hadn’t. We talked for ten more minutes before the final call to pack up and leave. “Hey, y’all want to be pen pals?” I asked in my best faux drawl. “Shore!” Judy replied. So we quickly swapped addresses.
We wrote for decades. And then, after the advent of Facebook, Judy sent me a box containing every letter I’d ever sent her! Within were insights, some pretty cringy,* that are invaluable now in piecing together My Real Memoir. So, thank you, dear Judy…
My four-times-underlined friend!
My Real Memoir is a series. To read the next one, click here.
*Re. the letter above: Yes, I really did ask her what her “measurements” were. I had many traits back then, but tact and class weren’t among them.
Thank you for sharing this great memory with us Mitch. How amazing and wonderful that Judy kept all those letters all that time – how endearing. ( P.S. I had to look up what the word bitchen meant – not one I have heard of in the UK🤣)
“Bitchen” (or “bitchin'”) was particularly prominent in Southern California back then, Stephanie. It was considered a surfer word, and surfers were, well, bitchin. ;>)
Wouldn’t that blow up a lesson plan? “What’s a pen, teacher?” “Can’t I just Facebook someone?” A nice reminder that the art of writing is precious.
Good point, Pam.
Wow — what a treasure to see those letters again! 😊
It is!
This warms my heart.
Mitch, I was “tickled pink” to read this post and the letter to the short Texan! And how devoted you were to girls WAY ahead of money. You charmer, you! Seriously, how fun is this? It’s so amazing to have pen pals and more amazing? Lifetime friends! Can I add, it’s the teacher in me, that your handwriting is beautiful! 🥰
Aww, thanks, teach. ‘Fraid my handwriting was much better then than it is now.
You’re welcome! Tee hee! I get it!!
I enjoyed this episode very much!
Delighted to hear that, Liz!
This explains a lot, Mitch! 👍🌹
;>)
I’m kinda hopin’ that no one saved my penpal letters!
Me, too!
Ditto.
Love this story – from the yearbook comments (hilarious and so ring a chord) to you making a pen pal during a short stop in Texas! So fun!
Thanks, Wynne, and great talking with you and Vicki today!
Such a pleasure! Thanks, Mitch!
That was a long pen pal letter you wrote, Mitch, and hilarious!
Thanks, Nancy. I was a hambone, both on stage and on the page.
Ha! My hubby and I met through the mail. I still have all of our letters, written over the course of 3 years (he was in the Navy). It was a great way to get to know one another; however, upon re-reading, it’s pretty obvious we both embellished the truth.
;>) Well, of course, Cindie!
You went to the World’s Fair? What year? I attended high school in Flushing where the Fair was held. But by the time of the Fair, I was out of the Army and living in nearby College Point, my birthplace.
The Golden Rondelle, which was the Johnson Wax exhibit was a saucer shaped theater. After the Fair was over, the building was disassembled and moved to the Johnson headquarters in Racine, Wisconsin. It still serves as a welcome center and theater in what has been my hometown for 58 years.
It’s a small world after all. (Now try to get that song out of your head.)
1965. Small world indeed, Robert. And thanks for the earworm! ;>)
I went to the World’s Fair in 1964 with my mom and much older sister. The only memory I have is staying at a hotel in the city and running to the hot dog stand in our pj’s in the rain at midnight to get footlongs with sauerkraut. (I was only 8🤷)
Fun memory, Linda, even if it is the only one!
Nothing like a New York hotdog! I read your blog post about writing a book. I used KDP to published a revised version of my book recently. If I can help or encourage you in any way, please use my contact page to get in touch. I believe your story (God’s story) is worth telling.
Thank you Robert! For your comment and your encouragement. If only I could stay focused and stop revising every time I read what I wrote. Ugh! That said, I do have an account with KDP. That’s my plan At this point I am torn between writing in 1st person or 3rd person. I would definitely appreciate your opinion on what I’ve done so far. I will send you what I have and look forward to hearing from you 😌
You wrote for decades? Impressive! Maybe you & Judy hold the record for keeping pen-pal letters going the longest! I wonder if Guinness has such a category?
You got me wondering, Nancy, so I looked it up. Judy and I weren’t even close! https://brain-sharper.com/social/pen-pals-turning-100/#:~:text=Guinness%20Book%20of%20World%20Records%20holder%20for%20longest,two%20people%20from%20different%20countries%20become%20lifelong%20companions%3F
Oh . . .😞. I was all set to celebrate your new claim to fame!
Very cool, Mitch! Ha ha! The things we did and said in our youth. But that is what youth is about – growing and learning. Good times! Thanks for the cool post.
My pleasure, Tim.
Hey, Pen Pal, I believe I sent those letters when your first daughter was born. I’m so glad I kept them!
I’m glad you did, too! Good belly laugh material. When my parents sold the house I grew up in, furniture and all, they never cleaned out the bookshelf in my bedroom closet. All my pen pal letters and the short stories I wrote in 4th grade were lost forever. You and Mitch have a special memory there 😉
How sad that all of that was lost to you. Yes, Mitch had a way with words even when writing letters. When I saw the envelope I knew I was in for a treat!
Judy, the star of the story, I’m so glad you saw this! I don’t know if I ever told you, but after my conversion, during my “St. Francis of Assisi Period,” I burned all vestiges of my previous worldly life, including my scrapbooks–and all of your letters! So sorry! I’d have loved to send them to you, just as you sent mine to me. Now that I’m into the teenage years of my memoir-ing, they’re invaluable mental snapshots (thoughtshots?) of who I was then. Love you, Pen Pal.
Yes, you told me about the burning of your possessions. Send me the scans of the letters you wrote, please. The one about the Tasmanian canary stealing your pen still makes me laugh!
Judy, I’ll probably include them in future memoir posts like this one, but if not I’ll try and remember to send to them directly to you. I think the Tasmanian canary letter is coming up pretty soon. ;>)
Excellent!! I look forward to seeing more of them.
What a hoot 😆
Hahahaha! You cracked me up – completely!!
;>)
Mitch! Your handwriting is just like Doctors. I am glad that you kept all memories with you in the form of letters.
I LOVE this, Mitch – it’s hilarious! I had a pen pal for a few months when I was in 9th grade, and I so wish I still had those letters.
I understand, Kellye. Judy gave me a rare gift.
Epic!
;>) And totally bitchin’, I might add.
I have two boxes of letters from male pen-pals in my teen years, and yep, one of them asked for my measurements, I’m sure.
Really? Guys!
I put it down to hormones. At fourteen, I hadn’t learned to be outraged 🙂
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