By Monday it's over and all we have left are memories. In other words, that's life. I really had no great excitement for the ACR this time around but went to the high school and laid down $30 anyhow. My opinion of the ACR's is that International Falls is a bit too big to do them the way they do in a smaller town where you have a program that everyone attends and a parade where each class does a float. So the big picture is always a bit disappointing.
The great memories are the small picture things -- conversations on the deck at Sha Sha, the Dirty Dozen concert on Saturday, locating my five classmates, Earl, Rick, Bill, Anton, Woody, on the wall.
I particularly enjoyed meeting again after 50 years the daughter of the wonderful mom who inadvertently supplied the raw materials for the Eighth Street Smoking Club. Nice meeting you Deb N.
I ate a lot of junk food over the weekend but shared are really tasty piece of smoked whitefish and 40 year-old memories with a former classmate who knows more about fish and many other things than most people on this globe. Both a bit sentimental, we almost teared over as the reassembled Dozen played Diana. We turned around to see Mrs. Ross, radiant as ever, surrounded by Ron Beck, Steve Ross, Huffer and a steady stream of guys who used to like Diana almost as much as we did.
Burned out and burned, I missed the dance on Main Street, but I suspect that someone else whill carry the ball on that one. So it's a cool and rainy July 2 -- and the Falls is almost back to normal.