No doubt that I'll be
writing about it as time goes on, so we might as well start now.
I graduated in 1965 from Trinity Prep in Sioux City, Iowa. Trinity was a Roman Catholic "minor seminary" for high school age boys who thought perhaps God had touched them for the priesthood. If you've read my memoir, Curlew: Home, you perhaps noticed I concluded that what I thought was the touch of God was actually a case of indigestion. Which was my way of saying, No, I didn't become a priest.
This summer, the weekend of June 8-10, many of Trinity's graduates will be coming together for a school reunion, including the Class of '65. In anticipation of that get-together, members of my class have been trying to locate one another. Which means I have an Inbox full of e-mail messages from those former classmates, and I've had extensive correspondence with some of them.
Yes, of course, I am going to the reunion. No. I haven't yet made my room reservations because one of our number is going to see if he can arrange for a block of rooms all together for our class, and I'd like to reserve one of those.
Most of my classmates came from Iowa, Minnesota, Nebraska, Kansas; one of the original freshman class was even from Texas, as I remember. Accordingly, when we graduated, we scattered. And - scattering - we lost touch. The school closed its doors and its dorms some few years after we graduated, so there was no focal point for keeping in touch, and as the universe is wont to do, things fly apart.
Well, we are now back in contact, many of us.
There was one bit of shocking news in all this. All of my writing life, at least forty years now, I have held the biographical note of one of my classmates up as the standard I aspire to as a writer. It was Marion Abbick's biographical note, and I remember that it appeared in the graduation issue of the school magazine. Somehow he had incorporated his "brown oxrfords" into that piece of writing, and ever since I have tried to put Marion Abbick's brown oxfords into everything I write.
So now I am in contact with Marion Abbick. People call him "Doc Abbick." He is a dentist. He rides a Harley. He has released a CD called Sing to Live... Live to Sing, available here. He has in his possession a copy of that 1965 graduation issue of the school magazine and, he says, there are no brown oxfords in it, not his, not anybody's. Indeed, he reminds me, we didn't write our own biographical notes for that issue. Our classmates wrote each other's. He remembers that Dean Schechinger wrote his. And he has no memory of any mention anywhere of his brown oxfords.
Was I pulling his leg, he wondered?
No. Marion Abbick's brown oxfords were there somewhere, a magical detail that transformed an ordinary writing assignment into something wonderful. It was a striking example to me of what a good writer could do, and something I have aspired to ever since. I'll be terribly disappointed if we don't eventually find that passage and if Marion Abbick didn't write it. Turns my world on its head, in a way.
No, I tell you, I'm not making it up. Where are Doc Abbick's brown oxfords? Where?
*
Folks, you can expect to hear more from me about the Trinity Class of 1965 getting together in June. This will be like plugging in a lamp and lighting a corner that hasn't been illuminated in quite some while, and I'm looking forward to it. And I'm also looking forward to watching my reactions to the experience. And reporting some of that here, perhaps.
Stay tuned.
Tom....I am looking forward to reading about your reunion. Some good news for you concernong food. There is a new Thai restaurant on W 7th next to Anytime Lock and Key. We have eaten there a few times. Pretty good. Another Thai and Laotian restaurant will be opening in So Sioux next month... Fred Garber Central High School class of 66.
Posted by: Fred Garber | February 15, 2007 at 08:53 AM
Heh, Fred--you've got my number: (1) you know what I think is important, food; and (2) you know which cuisine it is that I prefer. No doubt we'll cross paths again when I am in Sioux City.
Posted by: Tom Montag | February 15, 2007 at 01:09 PM
Tom,
I sent you a separate email explaining the "brown oxford" reference. Let me know if you need any more information.
Posted by: Dick Drey | February 15, 2007 at 04:06 PM
Reunions like that can be pretty powerful events. People you've never expected much from will have blossomed, people who seemed ready to take on the world will have faltered or stagnated.
Posted by: Rhea | February 15, 2007 at 08:34 PM
This sounds like a wonderful event and I trust there will be many stories to share with your readers. As for that brown oxford situation. I said, well of course, it was the Universe, pointing its finger straight at Tom Montag saying I will work some magic on you Tom, some mysterious wonderful magic that is going to inspire you beyond your wildest imagination. You will write wonderful poetry and essays that will inspire those who read them and all the while the seed will be a pair of brown oxfords. It's a mystery of the Universe. Then I read the comments and apparently there is a perfectly rational explanation. I HATE it when that happens. On that note I am going over to order that CD because I really like it.
Posted by: Sharon | February 15, 2007 at 09:12 PM
Oh, yeah, Rhea, I am looking forward to seeing what we've become.
Posted by: Tom Montag | February 16, 2007 at 05:01 PM
Yeah, Sharon, I think that is what the universe was doing, pointing its finger at me. Or putting me under its thumb. In any case, this reunion is already great fun.
Posted by: Tom Montag | February 16, 2007 at 05:02 PM
Hi - Charlie Kotan here. I was Class of '65, but only attended Freshman at Trinity, and recall Tom Montag's name.
I'll have to ping "Big Mare" Abbick - sung to tune of "Big John".
I'll send a link to this blog to Steve Reznicek, also a classmate, who graduated with me from Archbishop Ryan in Omaha. Sorry we didn't know about the 2007 reunion, although I live in CA and Rez lives in TX, so slim chance either of us could have attended.
I'll have to see who else might have attended the reunion.
I remember Keith Hammock, and a kid who Fr. Vincent pushed down the stairs.
In '67, I believe, I was on a plane while in the Navy with - I think his name was Jack Foch - from our class, who was coming home on leave - a Marine. We didn't recognize one another until the plane landed. We sat and had some drinks and my dad and I drove him home to Lincoln about day break.
I'm glad things turned out the way they have, and so is my bride. But I carry a bit of spirituality around and am very glad for my time there.
Posted by: Charlie Kotan | February 23, 2009 at 05:00 PM