Did you know that when the sausage links are being grilled, they sometimes split open? Did you also know that those split sausages go into a separate "junk" pan and cannot be sold as a "link on a bun?" And, did you know that those split sausage links are delicious little gifts from the gods and that tasting one will make you want to slap your momma? I am now obsessed with juicy, split, "junk" sausage links. Just what I need...another food obsession.
Note to all 1974 graduates of Thomas Jefferson High School in Port Arthur, Texas: we're looking for you. Click on the flier below for information on how to contact Karin Shepherd with your information.
That's me in the front in the red coat. I was initially kneeling down and it took about five of those people to help me up. My 54 year old knees, cold weather, twenty extra pounds and three layers of clothes conspired with gravity to hold me down. One of the beautiful things about hanging out with people who are exactly the same age as you is that everyone could relate to my dilemma and they were proud of my courage for attempting to kneel down in the first place.
Randy told us that he's always had a hard time convincing his children that he was "hot" in high school. That's what dads do. They try to convince their kids they used to be "hot."
Moms on the other hand work hard trying to convince their kids that they absolutely, positively did not "make out" with anybody under the football stands and certainly didn't speak to the people who smoked dope in the empty field across the street from the school. Moms also never snuck into bars, drank alcohol while under age or made illegal u-turns while cruising "the drag."
Making money while "working the street"
Occasionally while holding their signs (see picture above) and trying to lure people to our tasty goods, drivers would stop and hand money to our sign holders. Margaret was very excited about the $3 someone handed her from a car window. Shortly after Margaret's wonderful $3 moment though, Randy came up to us flashing a five dollar bill.
Margaret still isn't buying it. She maintains that he paid somebody $10 to give him $5. "So, it's a wash," she says. That's her story and she's sticking to it. Nobody works the street like the women of the Class of '74. Especially not the MEN of the Class of '74.
Even we have more sense than that
Shortly after two of our classmates took the signs and headed to the street, they started walking back toward the tents.
"HEY! No way," I said. "Get back out there. It's not that cold, you bunch of old timers."
"Well," one of them said, "We decided it wasn't a good idea to hold our signs up and shout at the funeral procession."
I looked at the street just in time to see the hearse pass by.
Yep, Class of '74. We're a class act.