Saturday, September 23, 2017

Saturday 9





Welcome to Saturday: 9. What we've committed to our readers is that we will post 9 questions every Saturday. Sometimes the post will have a theme, and at other times the questions will be totally unrelated. Those weeks we do "random questions," so-to-speak. We encourage you to visit other participants posts and leave a comment. Because we don't have any rules, it is your choice. We hate rules. We love to answer the questions, however, and here is today's questions!

Saturday 9: Da Doo Ron Ron (1977)

Unfamiliar with this week's tune? Hear it here.
 
1) This song begins by stating that he met her on a Monday and his heart stood still. How did your past week start? It may be a lot to expect you to report that you met someone who made your heart stand still, but did anything noteworthy occur? My week started with a reunion for a bunch of old, old friends and I can honestly say tht none of them made my heart stand still.  The only noteworthy thing was noting how many of the old group were in the memorial tree instead of standing in line to get food.

2) While making hit records, Shaun Cassidy also starred as Joe Hardy on the Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew Mysteries. The Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew books have been popular with generations of American kids. Were you a fan?
Not the Hardy boys, but I was an avid Nancy Drew fan.  There was a time when I had all of the books (to date).  I was so disillusioned when I found out there was no real Carolyn Keene, the supposed author but that the books were written by a bunch of different authors.
 
3) Shaun went to Beverly Hills High School. Over the decades, BHHS has had many good footballs teams. Do you remember what sports your school excelled at?I went to a small girls school  As far as I know our only sport was volleyball, and I don't think we were very good at it.

4) Shaun followed his older half-brother, David Cassidy, into TV/records/teen stardom. Do you have siblings? If yes, what career paths did they follow?
I had one sister, 4-1/2 younger than myself.  She was 24 when she was murdered by her roommate.

5) His middle name is Paul, after his maternal grandfather. Tell us something about one of your grandparents.
My paternal grandparents were in vaudeville.  My grandmother was a chorus girl and my grandfather was an Irish tenor in a barbershop quartet.  He once had an offer of recording contract, but my grandmother wouldn't let him take it.  I only heard him sing once or twice but even in his 80s, he had a very strong voice.

6) Shaun's mother, actress Shirley Jones, reports that he was more than 3 weeks late and born by Cesarean. Have you heard family legends about your arrival into the world?
Not my birth, but my sister was apparently born after ONE contraction ("but it was a doozy," my mother always said)

7) "Da Doo Ron Ron" was originally recorded by The Crystals. Can you think of another song that has been a hit by more than one artist?"New York, New York" was a great hit for Sinatra and Liza Minnelli; "Leaving on a Jet Plane" was written by John Denver and a big hit for Peter, Paul and Mary...and later for Denver himself.
 
8) In 1977, when this version of "Da Doo Ron Ron" was popular, Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak incorporated Apple. Are you Mac or Android?Depends.  My desktop is PC and my cell phone, iPad and iPod are all Apple.
 
9) Random Question: You're exhausted. You collapse into bed and are about to drift into slumber when you hear the drip-drip-drip of the bathroom faucet. Would you kick off the covers and go turn it off? Or would you stay in bed, letting it drip until morning?I would think about it for a long time but eventually, if I hadn't fallen asleep already, I'd get up and turn it off.

Friday, September 22, 2017

And How Is YOUR Year Going?


It's getting so it's too, too depressing to turn on the news each evening.  The lead story in tonight's reports concerned Health and Human Services Secretary Tom Price and his use of private jets, on the public dollar.  He has taken at least 24 private jets since May (five just this week) to the tune of $300,000, which we have paid.  Good for us.

The saddest thing about this is realizing that something egregious like this no longer seems outrageous.  It seems that every night there is some terribly offensive sounding thing reported on and it just is all overload.

Tonight they were also questioning using Trump's campaign finances to pay his son's legal expenses, when DT, Jr. had no official position and technically was not a part of the campaign.

It seems that each day we hear of some other money-making scheme using the administration and its funds.  Or exploitation of the funds.

The Secret Service brought to bankruptcy paying expenses guarding everybody in the Trump family as they vacation around the world.  I still don't understand why they had to pay to live in Trump tower to guard the family.  You'd think that the prez could have given them a break on the rent.

And the lies.  Everybody lies and nobody seems to realize that there are videotapes around that prove the lies.

And don't even start on Manafort...!

But nobody in authority cares.  No Republicans have made a fuss or even suggested action should be taken on anybody.

And then there are the continuing ties to Russia, and the depth of Russia dealings.  It sounds more like a plot of The Sopranos than the U.S government.  (I keep saying I want to be able to come back in 50 years and see how the books record this period of our history)

And in the middle of this "the heck with you; I'm all for me" business (and I do mean business), congress is working to take away health care from millions of Americans.

We remain the laughing stock of the world, the president getting laughed at when he spoke at the UN.  His threat to "destroy North Korea" can only add fuel to the fire that is Kim Jong Un, who is just itching to blow something up.

I feel like there is a whole ball of "something" inside me that has died.  I had hope until the inauguration that somehow the cavalry was going to ride over the hill and save us, but they never showed up and we are stuck with this situation.  And even if in the unlikely event that he should be impeached and/or removed from office...look at who is coming up in the line of succession:  Mike Pence, Paul Ryan, Orrin Hatch, Rex Tillerson, Steve Mnuchin (the guy who thought he could use a government plane to take his wife on a European honeymoon).  Not a single one of them I could get remotely hopeful about.

My friend Kathy and I had lunch this week.  We have been lunching together monthly for a couple of decades and we always spend a lot of time discussing politics.  We never mentioned politics this week.  We are both so depressed and so defeated by the knowledge that there is no hope.



I went to Atria today.  My mother was thrilled because she hasn't seen me in a year.

Comments like this make me feel more comfortable going less and less often because to her it's either today or a year ago or a year from now. 

I couldn't find her when I got to the memory unit and one of the kind aides said she would go and find her for me.

To my amazement she was outside!!!!!!  This may be the first time she has gone out of the building on her own (of course, I don't know if someone took her outside or not).  Today was the first really comfortable day we've had (75⁰) and a really lovely day, so I'm glad she was able to get out and enjoy it.
When the aide brought her in to her apartment, she didn't know me, but quickly figured out who I was, but I don't know if she thought I was her daughter or her sister.  Possibly both during the hour I was there.  At one point she talked about Walt ("what's the name of that guy you're married to?") and our kids, but then at one point she said "Mom is doing pretty good these days, isn't she?" and she I looked perplexed she said "Mom.  Our Mother" so I think at that moment, she thought I was her sister.  She also asked how Peach's mother Marge was (Marge died many years ago).

Steve Schalchlin's friend wrote a song about Alzheimers called "The Long Goodbye" and that's what it is...watching little bits and pieces fade away slowly.

If there is anything to be thankful for it's that she hasn't a clue what is happening in the world.  In fact, when I told her abut the Mexico earthquake she asked "was she working at the time?"  I never expected her to understand about the earthquake, but sometimes it's good to have something other than her age, and the weather to talk about, even if she doesn't understand it.

Thursday, September 21, 2017

More Fun with Medicine

There was a note on my calendar this morning that I had an appointment in the radiology department at Kaiser in Sacramento today.  I knew about the appointment, but I had completely forgotten why I was going.  Fortunately I can go to the Kaiser web site and get details about my appointments and was reminded that I was going in for a breast ultrasound.

This was to check a lump that my primary care doctor just discovered in one of my breasts.  Tells you how observant she is.  About 15 years ago, when I was working for Dr. G, we always referred patients to a company called Mammographia to get their mammograms.  Dr. G always called it the "Cadillac of mammograms."  After awhile I decided that if I was going to recommend Mammographia, it would be nice if I knew WHY it was the "Cadillac of mammograms" so I convinced Dr. G to get them to give me a free mammogram.

I have to admit that it truly was a cut above Kaiser....a big cut.  For one thing, there was a plush carpet and comfortable chairs in the waiting room.  And when you go to the mammogram room, the shelf on which your breast is poked and kneaded into place was actually warmed by a heating pad before you got there.  No icy metal shelf for us!

And I don't know why, but it was the first mammogram I had that didn't hurt.  That was worth the "Cadillac" rating right there.

They examined my films right away and discovered a lump in my breast.  They have a physician on staff who can address that right away and he did, with a full ultrasound of the breast.  They determined that whatever it was was benign and then found out that the lump was discovered on mammogram at Kaiser several years before that, but nobody had never told me.

I've had my current doctor for many years now and until they did all those scans the other night, she had no clue there was a lump in my breast.  She wanted another ultrasound which would be more precise than the one they could do in Davis, hence the meeting in Sacramento.

I headed off to Kaiser, figuring an hour would give me plenty of time.  I prefer driving through the city streets than driving on the freeway because there is a right lane merge that terrifies me every time.  I was trying to calculate if I had enough time to take the slower route when it suddenly hit me that it was a little before noon and my appointment was ONE-fifteen, not TWELVE fifteen!  So I had time to get some lunch.

I drove down to where the fast food joints were and drove past Stanton Optical company which has the consistently most annoying TV ads ever.  This one, with a guy in a pink tutu commenting on the woman's pink frames, runs twice each morning--the commercial, a commercial for something else, and then the Stanton commercial again.  It's been running for months but is actually LESS annoying than some of the other ads that ran forever -- like the pair of glasses in labor that gave birth to another pair of glasses.

I was craving tacos so I stopped at Del Taco, which I'd never visited.  Kathy and I went for Mexican the other day at lunch, but my stomach was a little unsettled so I just had a plain tamale and a salad.  It didn't solve my Mexican craving.  I can't say the Del taco was the best I'd tasted, but it was just what I was craving, though I was surprised that it was served with French fries!  Who serves tacos with French fries?

I knew that the Radiology Department was at the end of the building and was tickled to find a parking place right at the end of the building.  The wrong end, of course.  I had to walk all the way to the other end--why is it that when you are going somewhere for the first time it always seems much longer than when you are coming back?  It seemed like a mile I had to trudge to get to Radiology and then when I left, it was hardly any distance at all.

There were several people in line to register and two clerks.  One was v-e-r-y slow and the other was very fast.  The line finally started to move and just as it was my turn, the fast guy took his break.  I waited fifteen minutes (I timed it on the clock over his head) before the slow guy finished with the woman ahead of me.

But I eventually got checked and directed to the waiting room for mammograms.  It was kind of a cross between Davis Kaiser's cold, uncomfortable radiology department and Mammographia.  Everything was pink including a pink breast cancer design on the rug right in front of the door, in case you missed it.

The room was filled with ill-fitting gowned women.  I chose a cubicle to remove my shirt and get into a gown.

I noted, with chagrin, that they had only medium size gowns in the cubicle.  No way in the world am I a medium size, but  did my best and actually got it on, but then discovered that it seemed to have THREE arm holes!  I couldn't figure out what that was for (turns out that if you are a medium size person, your arm goes in the dangling sleeve there and the sleeve that is on my left arm is supposed to cross over in front of you so you can be more covered up.  There was no way that was going to work for me.

But there were several large sized women in the room so I knew there must be a large size gown somewhere.  I finally found one.

Then I sat and waited.  It was a chatty group and as each patient left either for the scan or to go home, we would all wish her good luck.

I picked up a copy of The New Yorker, my go-to waiting room magazine.  I never have time to read the articles but I like to read the cartoons.  Except I haven't seen a single cartoon in any copy of the New Yorker lately that is in the least funny.  I find them downright boring.  The other magazine I picked up, quite innocently, was one of Martha Stewart's and that had zero interest for me.

Finally my name was called and I went in for what I thought was an ultrasound, but which turned out to be another mammogram and if the lump looked suspicious, they would do the ultrasound.  The mammogram tech greeted me with "how is your pancreas?" (which is more than my doctor would do)  She was a theater lover and when she found out I was a critic, we had lots to talk about while she pummeled my breasts into submission. 

When she finished, she sent me back to the pink room while she checked with the radiologist, and then came back to report that all looked fine and they didn't need to do an ultrasound.  Heck, I could have told them that!  But I was free to leave.

My plan had been to go to Atria but by now it was so late, I would get there too late to visit and I was sleepy anyway, so I came home and took a nap.

I usually get my mammograms done in October, so that's something I can cross off my list now since it's already done  And nice to know that my lump is behaving herself and not causing any trouble.  (The lump is almost as old as the breast itself!)

Wednesday, September 20, 2017

Fall Forward


What was that strange sensation my body was feeling?

It was sometime last evening when I realized I was ... dare I say it? ...  cold!  I was actually shivering and I got up and put on a sweatshirt.  When was the last time I wore a sweatshirt?

Can it be that we have at last survived this abominable summer and are looking at fall?

I checked predicted temps for the rest of the week and there are 3 days at the end with the temp predicted to be in the low 80s (which I used to think of as "hot" and now regard as "pleasant"), but otherwise the temps will be in the middle to high 70s and I may not have to hang up my sweatshirt, but put it to good use.

I don't know how many days over 100⁰ we have had since the first one, but July hit at least 90⁰ every day for the first time since 1877.  I could not find how many days over 100 we have had, as most articles about the heat wave were written in June...and there were certainly a lot of hot, hot days in July and August.

I love spring.  It is a beautiful time around here, with blossoms exploding all over town, and the orchards outside of town looking like clouds of white everywhere.

The thing I don't like about spring is that it is too short and is followed all too quickly by summer and, with global warming, it seems to get hotter every year.  Climate change deny-ers should come and spend a summer in the Sacramento valley.

But I have to admit that summer in Davis is significantly better than summer in San Francisco.  Here we don't know how many days over 100 we will have, but we know we will have them and so houses are equipped with air conditioning and stores are equipped with air conditioning.

(I remember when we bought our first car here, the first year we lived here, and we opted not to get air conditioning because of the added cost.  "It won't be that bad," I said, optimistically.  Then summer came.  When we bought our next car, the very first thing I wanted in the car was air conditioning!)

Much as I enjoy spring, I love fall because the trees are also beautiful, with the reds and yellows and oranges everywhere and when the leaves finally fall, it is the start of winter, of cold temps, and rain, and my kinda weather.

So I am looking forward to reacquainting myself with my sweatshirts in the near future and enjoying the brisk winds of autumn and looking forward to winter.



Yesterday, I wrote about Pole Line Rd and our memorable trip down that road.  We were trying to figure out when it was and Char said that it had to be 1963 if their baby daughter was along.  I thought Walt had bought the red Tempest convertible shortly before we married in 1965, but he remembers that he got out of the Air Force reserve in 1963 and bought the car shortly after that...so 1963 is probably when it was.

In 2013, I told the story of Walt's old Rambler convertible, the car that hated me. 


You don't want to anthropomorphize inanimate objects, but I still maintain that the car hated me.  And it got angry with Walt when he went off to boot camp and left it for me to use.  It about bankrupted me when it developed brake problems...or at least some disreputable dealer told me it developed brake problems.

I still remember when Walt called from boot camp.  I was so excited to hear his voice (we only had "letters" in those days, so I was writing to him about the problems I was having with the car).  He opened the conversation with "What are you doing to my CAR?" and then went on to berate me for everything I'd done wrong.  I was in tears when I hung up.  I'm sure the Rambler was very satisfied about that!

We left our wedding reception in the Rambler, but only drove it as far as where Walt had parked the Tempest and we left for our honeymoon in that while someone else took the Rambler back to our apartment.


The story of our finally getting rid of the Rambler is unique and also detailed in the old 2013 journal entry.

Tuesday, September 19, 2017

Pole Line Road

I found this photo in a stack of old photos today.


This is Charlotte pouring gas into our Tempest while Mike looks on.  Middle 1960s, probably 1965.  A famous photo and one which, over the next 50+ years, when Mike was alive, could cause lively argument among the four of us.

Details are getting foggy now, so I'd best get them down while I have some memory left.  I'm sure Char will correct me wherever I'm wrong.

In our young days, before and after we had children, we often went camping.  I think on this trip, Char and Mike had Tavie, their first born (now in her mid-50s).  I don't remember, though, why we were only in one car.  Usually we had two cars and Walt and I always followed Mike and Char's car.
(In fact, at the end of one of our camping weekends, we finished at the Scottish Games in Santa Rosa and as we pulled into the parking lot behind the Blackford's car, the attendant told us to "follow that grey car."  We didn't tell him we'd been following it for three days!)

We never went to "campgrounds" per se.  Our trips often explored ghost towns.  With California an active mining state after the gold rush, there are lots and lots of ghost towns.  Some of them are just a few crumbling buildings, or pieces of equipment where once a lively town had stood.  But some, like Bodie, are still in good shape and kept in careful disrepair as a state historical monument.


But mostly we investigated the places where few other tourists are likely to explore.

I remember one Memorial Day weekend, when all the highways were clogged with traffic, where we drove for three days on dirt roads and didn't see another car.  (When we finally reached the end of the dirt roads and were going to join the holiday drivers, Char got out of the car and said she was going to "kiss the pavement")

So I don't remember which trip this photo was from, but we had driven forever on the backwater "towns" we loved to explore.  To go home, we had to drive down Pole Line Road, which was a 20 mile road which ran in a straight line along Mono Lake (and so named because of the telephone poles that lined it).

Mono Lake is a desert lake which, because of the high concentration of salt from mountain snow run-off that has no way to get to the ocean, and because of the brine shrimp who live there, is famous for the odd salt columns which dot the water.


On the Nevada end of Pole Line Road is the town of Hawthorne and on the California end of the road is Highway 395, just a mile or two from the town of Lee Vining.  There is nothing along Pole Line Road but lake on one side and sage brush on the other.

When we got into Hawthorne, Char and I spied an ice cream shop and convinced Mike and Walt to drive down there so we could get ice cream before getting on Pole Line Road.  We did.  I'm sure it was delicious.

Then we headed for the road and started toward Highway 385.  Walt realized that we needed gas, but figured we would get it in Lee Vining.

At the end of Pole Line Rd., there is a slight slope up to the main highway and just a few yards before we got to that point, the car stopped, out of gas.  This was, of course, in the days before cell phones and Pole Line Rd was so seldom traveled, we hadn't seen another car since we started on it (nor did we see one at all).  We were so close to 395!  We tried pushing the car, but the slope to the highway was just too steep.  We figured if we could get to 395, it was a downhill slope into Lee Vining and we'd be OK.

Finally, Walt and Mike walked up to 395 and hitchhiked into Lee Vining, where they got gas and, I guess, someone drove them back to the car.

But they never ever let Char and me forget that if we hadn't talked them into driving to the ice cream shop in Hawthorne, we would have made it up that damn slope and been able to get to Lee Vining, even if we had to coast to do it.

Monday, September 18, 2017

Theater Weekend



I did something I've never done before on Friday night.
 
We were going to the Woodland Opera House to review Noel Coward's Blythe Spirit.  I thought it odd that the sandwich board outside the theater showed posters for two shows, but one was the family series show and I figured they would run that at the matinee on Saturday, and the Coward at night.

I never thought anything else when they handed me my program and I went to sit down in my seat.  I noticed that the slick program had a photo from Anne of Green Gables and I still didn't get it, thinking how clever they were to use one program for  two shows. 

It wasn't until I turned the program over, expecting to see Blythe Spirit on the backside that I realized I was a month early for that show and I really was there to see Anne of Green Gables, the family show. No wonder the theater was full (which it would not have been for a Noel Coward) and that so many people brought their kids.  I felt pretty dumb.  But I stayed for the show and wrote a review, even confessing my mistake.

There were friends sitting in front of us who asked me at intermission and at the end of the show what I thought (I said "Well, it's no Noel Coward").  I hate that.  I hate being asked my opinion because often I don't really formulate an opinion until we're on the drive back home and I dissect the play with Walt.  It's why I never go out at intermission and rarely stay for an "after party," if there is one on opening night.  It's fine when I'm there with the little clique of critics and then we stand around discussing the show, but I hate it when someone in the audience knows who I am and asks my opinion before I have formed one!

On Saturday, we didn't go to a show, we went to a reunion of members of the Davis Comic Opera Company.  The company had a 33 year run here in Davis, finally shutting down in 2006. 

The first show took place shortly before we moved to Davis.  We were subscribing to the Davis paper at the time, to get a feel for the town, and I knew I wanted to be involved with DCOC, and had one of my more embarrassing moments, when I showed up at what I thought was a company meeting, hoping to talk with the director about volunteering to help with publicity.

It turned out it was an audition and rather than admit I made a mistake, I auditioned.  Everyone was there with their music in hand.  I had nothing, but stumbled through "Little Buttercup" horribly.  When the director called me later to gently let me know I had not made it into the show, I told him I never intended to be in the show, but just wanted to help with publicity.  I went on to do publicity for many years and Walt soon joined the tech crew.

They managed to get several old-old timers at the reunion along with more recent alums and there were the usual groaning board of snacks.


All of those who have died were remembered in a tree with all of the names (and tags to fill out in case someone had been missed).  It's sad to realize how many of those we once knew fairly well are no longer with us.




But everyone had fun reminiscing, looking through the scrapbooks of old shows.

And at the end of the evening there was the ubiquitous slide show of many of the shows (only a very small portion of the shows!  We only went through one carousel of slides.


But it was a good afternoon of fun, food, and friends.  And lots of memories.

On Sunday it was another interesting theatrical experience.  The paper wants a "backstage story" about what goes on backstage during a show, so I went to the Davis Musical Theatre Company, where I reviewed Jekyll and Hyde last week and took note on the before and during the show and will work on writing an article about that today.


You never know what you're going to find backstage, and I was surprised to run into this almost life-size teen age elephant.  I was trying to remember when I saw an elephant in Jekyll and Hyde but then realized it was for Aladdin, which is the youth theater production which runs on Saturdays concurrently with Jekyll and Hyde (they push one set to the side and back and move in the other set and then, push it all back again before the evening show!

It felt like being part of Act Two of Noises Off, where you see the production from the back while the real show is going on in front.  Sadly, there weren't nearly enough things that went wrong as there are in that show!  Does not make for a funny article, but I think it will be interesting to people who have no idea of what it's like backstage during a show.

Today I'll be working on the article, being like, you know, a real writer.

Friday, September 15, 2017

Diving Mom


"What's that?" asked Walt, pointing at the television.

I looked at the mayhem on the screen and realized it was a promo for the reality show, Dance Moms, a show I am proud of never having seen.


Never having seen it, perhaps it's not fair of me to judge, but what I've seen in promos and hear rarely in other places makes me think it is about pushy mothers, pressured kids, and a dictatorial dance teacher.  Loads of fun.  Lot of yelling.  Lots of crying.  Who would watch that train wreck?

Apparently a lot of people, as it is now in its 7th season.  But just reading the Wikipedia description of the show gives me the creeps.

The first thing that comes to my mind, all the time, is -- please don't let me have been one of "those" moms!  I was a lot of moms -- a PTA mom, a room mother mom, a 4H mom, a boy scout mom, a ballet mom, a theater mom, a band mom, a jazz choir mom.  But maybe the most "mom" I was was a diving mom.
 
There was a time when Ned's friend Matt was on the diving team and Ned started copying him when they went swimming at the local pool and seemed to be pretty good, so when he said he wanted to join the diving team, I let him try out and he got in.  I don't remember how old he was, but probably 8 because he dove in the "10 and under" group for a bit.  Paul joined him, perhaps at the same time and eventually all 5 kids were in diving.  It seemed we were at practice (I almost wrote "rehearsal") or diving meets all the time.  We drove all over the state.

A lot of our friends had kids on swim teams and they drove all over the state too, but I loved diving because with swim meets, it was an all-day affair, you competed in several events throughout the day.  With diving you showed up for the time of your event, you did your thing, you got your award (or not) and then you could go home, unless you wanted to stick around and watch your teammates.

Our kids won awards


Sometimes big awards, sometimes small awards, sometimes participation awards, but I hope I was never pushy, never tried to make them do something they didn't want to do.  I only remember being a pushy mother once.  It was before a big meet and Ned was one of the top divers on the team.  He was miffed about something and decided he was not going to go to the meet.  I gave him a lecture about how I didn't care if he never dove again, but his team was counting on him that day and he was going to dive.  I hope the lesson was the importance of the team and not that i wanted him to go and make me proud.  He did make me proud but because he didn't let the team down.

We had some wonderful experiences.  I know I've posted this picture before, but how often do you get to say that you took a picture of Greg Louganis with your kids?

It was at a meet in So. California.  Greg had just won the silver in the Olympics.  This was a fun meet and at the end, the winner in each division did kind of a "best of show" competition.  10 year old Ned competed against Greg Louganis (spoiler alert:  Ned didn't win!)

As a Diving Mom, I learned a lot of stuff.  I learned how to score dives.  I learned how to judge a dive (I didn't learn well, but to this day I can guess judges' scores on simple Olympic dives). 

Walt was brave and judged more complicated dives.  He and another dad were judging the more advanced dives and one said to the other "you count the twists and I'll count the sommersaults."

I did a lot of organizing of the parents and my big coup was when I managed to get the newscaster from the Sacramento TV station to come and do a story on the little old Davis Diving Team.

It was one of those special periods in our lives.  I hope the kids remember it positively, and not the way I suspect those dancers will remember their young years when they are adults.