Hollies – "Hard Hard Year" (1966)

Can’t stay, there’s nothing here

It’s been a hard, hard year

From William Shakespeare’s review of 2 or 3 lines:  “A blog written by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”

Shakespeare was mostly right about my wildly popular little blog.  Foolishness abounds on 2 or 3 lines – it’s in my DNA.  But while playing the role of the court jester comes naturally to me, sometimes I try to be more than that.

*     *     *     *     *  

In the last 2 or 3 lines, I told you about the goings-on at the Key Club International district convention at the Glenwood Manor Motor Hotel in Overland Park, Kansas, which I and several of my high school bros attended in 1970.  (You can click here to read that post if you missed it.)

The Glenwood Manor Motor Hotel

You would think that a group of high school seniors that included the best and the brightest of our class would have behaved with a modicum of gravitas at such an affair rather than spending all our time engaging in immature shenanigans but – SPOILER ALERT! – we did not.  

And if yours truly didn’t rank #1 in our group in immaturity that weekend, it wasn’t for lack of trying.

Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.

*     *     *     *     *

Our Key Club district encompassed Missouri and Arkansas.  While Missouri had more than twice the number of local Key Clubs than Arkansas did in those days, it seemed that an Arkansawyer always managed to get elected to the district governor post.  

(“Arkansawyer” – not “Arkansan” – is the correct demonym for residents of that state.  Click here if you don’t believe me.)

The Arkansas Key Clubber who was elected district governor that year was a young man named Jerry Riemenschneider, who hailed from Little Rock.  (Someone from Little Rock was elected district governor in 1960, 1963, 1966, 1967, 1969, 1970, 1971, 1974, and 1976.  Richard Daley could have learned a thing or two from the Little Rock Key Clubs.)

I have only the vaguest memory of Jerry Riemenschneider.  My impression is that he was a pretty conventional middle-class kid – a good student, a churchgoer, and someone who was probably well-behaved and polite to his teachers and other adults. 

In other words, he was a lot like me – except that he wasn’t an immature little wiseass like I was.  He took the Key Club district convention seriously – as he should have – while I didn’t.

*     *     *     *     *

Bill Clinton was the first member of my generation – rather than my father’s generation – to be elected President of the United States.  

High-schooler Bill Clinton 

Clinton was from Arkansas, of course – and he was a natural-born politician through and through.  When he won the 1992 election, my thoughts turned to a less-well-known Arkansas politician of my acquaintance.

I called a friend of mine after the Clinton victory and said, “Do you realize that we’ve just elected Jerry Riemenschneider to be President?”

*     *     *     *     *

While I was writing about our Key Club trip, I decided to do a Google search to see whatever happened to Jerry Riemenschneider.  His name was so unusual that I figured I could track him down fairly easily – especially if he had remained in Arkansas.

I didn’t expect to find that he had died earlier this year, although given his age – he was 71, just like me – that fact shouldn’t have come as a big surprise.

Jerry Riemenschneider’s obituary didn’t contain a lot of biographical information.  For example, I don’t know what kind of work he did.

I do know that he must have been a big fan of western movies because Monument Valley – where Stagecoach, The Searchers, and a number of other John Ford-directed classics were filmed – was apparently #1 on his bucket list of places he hoped to visit.  He and his wife did make it there before his death:

The Riemenschneiders in
Monument Valley, Utah

More significantly, I also know that he was married to the same woman for almost 49 years, and that he had three children and seven grandchildren.  

I’m going to share some of the comments about him that were appended to his online obituary.

*     *     *     *     *

From his wife, Sharon:

It was love at first sight that night we met – when you knelt down beside my orange 4-4-2 [Oldsmobile] that night at the Twin City Drive Inn [in Sherwood, Arkansas].  

We talked for hours.  When you asked me to marry you five weeks later and I said yes, it was meant to be.  

We had a lifetime of deep and abiding love spanning 49 years. We experienced the joy of raising three beautiful children, Tim, Christina and Danny.  Now we have seven grandchildren and one on the way.  

We were best friends and always loved being together.  I always knew how much you loved me and we could not have loved each other more. 

I look around the house and I see you everywhere.  You built a lot of this house and you were so talented.  I know how much you loved it because we did it together.  

You were so sweet, patient, protective and proud of your family.  I could not have had a better husband and father for our children. 

My heart is so broken and the tears fall every day from missing you.  You are the love of my life , and I always knew I was of yours.  Until God calls me home too, and we meet again, I will always love you.

Your loving wife, 

Sharon

*     *     *     *     *

From his son, Tim:

Kind.  Sweet.  Gentle.  Loving.  Selfless.  These are all words that were used to describe my dad this week as I informed people of his untimely passing.

As a kid there are many things that you take for granted – honestly probably everything.  Having three kids myself, I know and understand the selflessness that he showed and sacrifices he made.  

Dad unconditionally loved and supported his kids.  He was the ultimate family man.  Forget just being in the stands, he coached every team that I played on. . . . I have received many comments like, “Mr. Jerry coached me and I really liked him.” 

Everyone that he interacted with had a love and respect for him.  He was kind to everyone.  He taught us how to be better people, how to care and have a sense of pride in whatever we do.  

I watch my sister and brother.  They value family and are 100% invested in their kids and spouses the same way that Dad was with us.  That’s not by accident. He set examples that molded all his kids into what we are today.

You know what Dad?  You have set a standard that I can only hope to one day live up to.  You have showed me how to be a great husband and father.  One could aspire and hope to one day be referred to as kind, sweet, gentle, loving or selfless.  You nailed all of them and without trying.  I am heartbroken and will miss you immensely.  I will do my damnedest to make sure the Riemenschneider name continues to be synonymous with kindness, loving and selflessness.  

I love you Dad.

*     *     *     *     *

From his daughter, Christina:

The loss of my sweet daddy is a loss of one of the best men I have ever known.  He was a true dreamer and storyteller and he always made sure that you knew how much he loved you.  There was not a day that went by that I ever felt unloved by him.  Ever. 

Jerry with his wife and daughter

He loved to tell stories about his police days, westerns, and most of all, his kids and grandkids.  He was always there and would drop anything to help you.  He loved so BIG.  He loved to create things and had an artistic side that I know I got from him.  He loved my mom so much and he passed just a few days before their 49th wedding anniversary.  

He was a fighter and battled innumerable health issues over the years, but this past year was different and so much harder.  He fought so hard and we fought so hard for him.  While we are completely and utterly heartbroken, I take comfort knowing he is healed and with Jesus.   Daddy, I hope you know how much you are loved and will be missed everyday.  Thank you for being the absolute best.

*     *     *     *     *

From his daughter-in-law, Casey:

Jerry was my father-in-law for almost 21 years, and in all those years, he didn’t treat me like a daughter-in-law.  He treated me like a daughter. 

He gave Tim and I the gift of caring for our first-born son (and his first grandchild) for the first two years of his life until I was able to stay home to do it myself.  Everyone who knew him would always say, “He’s such a nice man!”  He was indeed the kindest, most patient, caring man I’ve ever known. . . .

He taught Tim to be the husband and father he is today by being such a fine example himself.  I will miss him terribly, but feel so honored to have called him family.

*     *     *     *     *

Until today, Jerry Riemenschneider was just a two-dimensional stock figure in a fifty-plus-years-old anecdote about some of the nonsense I engaged in when I was a teenager.  All I really knew about him was what state he was from.

Jerry Riemenschneider

But now he’s a very real person to me.  He’s someone who left the only kind of legacy that matters.  

Someone whose life set a worthy example for those he knew.  

Someone who will never be forgotten by his wife and his children and his grandchildren and his friends.

Someone who will always be loved by them.

*     *     *     *     *

The Hollies had a lot of hit singles, but I’m not sure they get the respect they deserve.

“Hard Hard Year” wasn’t one of their hits, but it’s a great song – at least until you get to the ending, which is jarringly abrupt.

Click here to listen to ”Hard Hard Year.”

Click here to buy the record from Amazon.

Rhinoceros – "Apricot Brandy" (1969)

When you have ingested more alcohol than your liver can handle, your body responds by vomiting – getting rid of the undigested alcohol before it is absorbed by the body.

Vomiting has another salutary effect on people who drink to excess.  Because vomiting is so unpleasant, most people who throw up because they drank too much won’t make the same mistake for a long time.

But what if you are so drunk that you don’t remember throwing up?  If you have no memory of vomiting after drinking too much, you won’t learn that it’s not a good idea to drink yourself into oblivion.  

Of course, it’s a different story if you drink so much that you die of alcohol poisoning.

*     *     *     *     *

I once managed to drink so much that I had no recollection of throwing up when I woke up the next morning, but not so much that it killed me.  I guess you could say that I sort of hit the “Goldilocks Zone” of getting hammered – not too much and not little, but just the right amount.

That happened the very first time I ever got drunk.  Not that I’m trying to excuse my bad judgment, but my inexperience with alcohol was such that I had no idea what I was doing until it was far too late.

Let’s begin at the beginning.  It was 1970, and I was a senior in high school.  Several dozen classmates and I had signed up to represent our school’s Key Club at the annual district convention in Kansas City.

The first priority of those who were going to the convention was getting our hands on enough booze so we could get drunk in our hotel rooms once we got to Kansas City.

None of us were old enough to buy alcohol legally – the drinking age in Missouri in those days was 21, and all of us were 17 or 18 – but that didn’t stop us.

One of my friends managed to procure a bottle of apricot brandy before we left.

Another classmate boldly walked into a liquor store across the road from our hotel and walked out with several bottles of lime-flavored vodka.  (The guy who did this was without a doubt the squarest, straightest kid on the trip.  It’s been over 50 years since this trip happened, and I still remember the amazement we all felt with he came out of the store with all that booze.)

*     *     *     *     *

Our Key Club district encompassed Missouri and Arkansas.  About two-thirds of the local clubs in the district were from Missouri high schools, but somehow an Arkansawyer was elected district governor.  

That was partly the fault of my club’s voting delegates – including me.  I don’t recall attending a minute of the convention’s committee meetings or floor sessions, and I’m sure I didn’t show up to cast my ballot when the district governor was elected.   

What were we doing during the convention sessions?  Beats me.  But I remember what we did the evening after the convention had adjourned.

First, we spent a fair amount of time peeping in the windows of our hotel, hoping to get a glimpse of dishabille stewardesses who had forgotten to close their curtains.  (Our hotel was near the Kansas City airport, and several airlines had contracted with that hotel to house their flight crews overnight.  I doubt that any of the stewardesses were careless or exhibitionistic enough to expose themselves to us high-school peeping Toms, but dum spiro, spero.)

Second, we got drunk.

*     *     *     *     *

I think I had copious amounts of both the lime-flavored vodka and the apricot-flavored brandy, but I blame my bout of regurgitation mostly on the apricot brandy.  

I wouldn’t seek out lime-flavored vodka today, but I have no doubt that I could suck down a glass or two with no ill effects.  But just catching a whiff of apricot brandy would be enough to send me sprinting to the toilet.

Hopefully, I would get there before the upchucking commenced.  That apparently didn’t happen in Kansas City – according to my hotel roommates, I threw up just about everywhere except in the toilet that evening.

As I noted above, I have no memory of my barfing.  And I have no memory of cleaning up the disgusting mess I made.

That’s because I didn’t.  My roommates did.

*     *     *     *     *

I must have been hungover the next day, but I don’t remember feeling particularly bad when I woke up.

You would have thought that the three-hour bus ride back to my hometown might have made me feel more than a bit queasy.  But all I recall about the ride back was a lengthy and truly stupid argument about Daylight Savings Time, which I believe had gone into effect that night before.

Half of the bus riders were convinced we should set our watches back an hour.  The other half were equally adamant that we should set our watches an hour forward.  

I just learned that DST first went into effect in Missouri in the spring of 1970 – which was the year of our trip to the Key Club district convention.  The fact that we had no previous experience with DST explains why we were so clueless about the right way to reset our timepieces.  

A former teacher of mine used to say, “When the blind lead the blind, we all go in the ditch together.”  In our case, half of us would have not only gone into the ditch, but also would have had the wrong time on our watches.

*      *      *      *      *

I mentioned previously that a Key Clubber from Arkansas was elected governor at the 1970 district convention.  

I’ve never forgotten his name – it’s funny how the human brain works – so I Googled him while writing this post.  

In the next 2 or 3 lines, I’ll tell you what I learned from that Google search.

*     *     *     *     *

I’m sure none of you remember Rhinoceros, an American rock band that was formed in 1967 and broke up several years later after recording three albums that sold poorly despite considerable promotional efforts by their record label.

The band’s most successful single, “Apricot Brandy,” made it to #46 on the Billboard “Hot 100” in 1969.  It was an instrumental – which is why the usual two or three lines of song lyrics are missing from the beginning of this post.

Click here to listen to “Apricot Brandy.”

Click here to buy the record from Amazon.