The Corner

This is the end of my project. I rounded off the twenty eight students up two more. There were others I went to school with in those eight years in Ekalaka. A boy with the last name Black who was the doctor’s son for example. But my memory of Mitzi and Blaine are still strong so I’ve included them, with all us others. Thank you Eric Lovec for allowing me to express myself to a town, and kids from long ago, who I still have a large place in my heart for.

The Finale — Herding Cats — Two Added to Twenty Eight

I’ve come to the end of my classmate poems,

And with thirty, needed to do it right,

We were really a herd of cats who roamed,

To herd us never made much sense, alright.

Cheryl, she but cheerful and nice, well combed,

Loren, masculine smiles, sore eyes sight,

Ed, man with comebacks, unique, silty loam,

Blaine, good guy, raw deal dealt, himself despite.

Mitzi, only good words from all, shalom,

From the depths, my righteous words sought, flashlight,

But were my batteries charged, tin not chrome,

To me, worthwhile, it, a modest rite.

I fancy myself as a biographer,

Hence these classmate poems, sort of whisperer.

Cheryl Till (Strub)

Cheryl also from Mill Iron outlands,

I think that my mother may have taught her,

In rural schools, learned writing longhand,

Cheryl, like some, country born, town transfer.

She seemed to laugh easily, her brand,

Again, I did not know her well, for sure,

I recall, with desks circled, learning planned,

With Cheryl noting a point, days of yore.

Cheryl, nice to all regardless, took stand,

The pleasant kids were relished, that insured,

No one pleasanter than her, sculpted sand,

Carter County born, and stayed, scent of myrrh.

Cheryl behind counter last time I saw,

Treated me not as a stranger, coleslaw.

Loren Tinsley (Talkington)

Loren from Livingston, to our homestead,

To our class’s acres, but one more boy,

Loren chased by girls, not much more said,

We were pretty good friends, the real McCoy.

We lived close in town, our two homes, bridgehead,

His sister and mom both nice, times enjoyed,

Loren and I driving Main, ice streets tread,

He grasped the bumper, sliding shoes — convoyed.

From defensive line, his rush, infrared,

Loren always gutsy, his grin but coy,

His yells to the girl’s car, as we sped,

Loren back then, remembrances cloyed.

I saw Loren in Miles City last,

Now in Washington, holding steadfast.

Ed White

Ed lived near the south edge of the Long Pines,

Many hung around his house, a town place,

Ed was but full of wit, not the sidelines,

I would take his hits in football, I braced.

His four-forty on track, watched in confines,

Of infield, he with swinging arms, swift pace,

Ed was always there, of happenings — signs,

He had a nice hearty laugh from his face,

Jack, Ed and I, outdoor life, our gold mines,

Monopoly by campfire light, star space,

Blasting at a running buck, time’s divine,

I knew Ed through time, and as friends, clean slates.

Bozeman country, to where he resides now,

We worked drilling rigs back when, no kowtow.

Blaine Ness

I’m sure Blaine needs to be included here,

As he walked the same road, the same as all,

In ninety four, with no talk, drank no beer,

Blaine, he didn’t deserve the bully’s gall.

And no quit, with little support, his fear,

Was the tonic for some to quench their fall,

The fall they feared for themselves, all astir,

With a deep sadness, I didn’t stand tall.

I may even had laughed, a locker slur,

He climbed to dress for gym, just to play ball,

Cruelty comes dressed commonly, kick, spur,

Bullying is frowned on now, to appall.

Blaine lives in Baker, if I’m correct now,

A warm hope for his peace of mind, somehow.

Mitzi Heckman (Stephens)

Their house in town burned, and Mitzi moved west,

Her family voted, her vote to stay,

To Augusta moved, our class lost the best,

Mitzi was our class’s love, dare I say.

Seems we met on a bobcat hunt, who’d guess,

Her dad and mine with hounds, who fought that day,

A bobcat treed, she recalled, a success,

Before I moved to town, up the highway.

She with the best penmanship, lines of zest,

Quiet, a great homecoming date bouquet,

Good student, smile bright, kindsome possessed,

One’s life is enhanced by some, she’s that way.

Rare condition, unearned came to Mitzi,

But I’ll say she does well, an essence free.

THE END

— Erwin Curry, CCHS Class of 1974