07/17/2007

40 years later, the memories continue to glow

Remembering the 1961 Cherry Queen

By TIM BAZZETT

Special to the Record-Eagle

When I was 15, I fell in love easily — and often. Most guys remember those high school crushes with some embarrassment, I suppose, but I've since learned that it's all part of the passage.

In the fall of 1959, I started 10th grade at Reed City High School. It was a real culture shock. I'd just spent a year at St. Joseph Seminary, an all-boys Catholic school in Grand Rapids. So being suddenly surrounded by girls was a real awakening, in so many ways. Back in those days, cheerleaders were the epitome of all that was female. They were the girls that all the guys noticed.

That fall Geri Schmidt was the varsity cheerleader who stood out in a group of beautiful girls. She was drop-dead gorgeous, so of course I fell in love with her, as did every other red-blooded heterosexual male in the student body. But of course, I never spoke to her. That's the nature of those high school crushes, especially if the girl is a couple of years older than you are. I watched her from afar, at ball games and pep rallies, in the school hallways, at Mike's Place and around town.

Geri's dad, Dwight, had an auto dealership in town. Her brother, Steve, was just a year older than me. I played on the basketball team with him for a couple of years, although I never cracked that inner circle of the really good athletes.

But both Steve and Geri were unfailingly friendly to everyone, so I did get to bask just a little in Steve's reflected glow for a time. That never really happened with Geri. It was a classic "beauty and the geek” thing that existed only in my tortured adolescent longings.

Geri graduated that year, 1960, and went off to Ohio State. I pretty much lost track of her, but I know she was the National Cherry Queen in 1962. I graduated in '62 and joined the army. After that I went to college, married and started a family.

In 2001, I retired and came back to Reed City after a nearly 40-year absence. In April 2004, I published a book called "Reed City Boy” recounting growing up in Reed City. Since then that little book has gotten around and I have heard from people in nearly every state.

In August 2004, I got a note from Kennebunkport, Maine. It was from Geri (Schmidt) Weinberger, thanking me for my story and for my "kind words and remembrances of Steve and me.” She agreed that "Reed City was a good and gentle place to grow up.”

I was, of course, pleased to hear from Geri. The note didn't require a response and I did not reply.

Then in mid-February of this year I got an e-mail from Joyce (Butts) Mackey in Portland, Oregon. Joyce was one of those other beautiful cheerleaders from the squad of 1960. Joyce and Geri had remained close friends since high school, even though they lived on opposite coasts. She told me that Geri had been diagnosed with terminal leukemia. She asked if I would call Geri, because she had so enjoyed my book.

Joyce's request surprised me, since Geri and I had never really even had a proper conversation. But I agreed.

Geri and I talked that day for nearly an hour. She told me a little about her life as a buyer in the New York fashion industry. I told her a little about my own life and even, finally, how I'd been scared to talk to her back in high school. Geri had, like everything else, a laugh that was just beautiful, and that February afternoon we laughed a lot.

I finally asked about her illness and she told me that she was in the "final stage” of leukemia. She talked then of her family — of Steve, who died of a heart attack in 1975, and her little sister Pam, who had died only recently of cancer. She also spoke briefly of her dear husband, Artie, who died in 2000. She talked with great affection of her mother, Alene, and her daughter, Jamie, who were there with her. She regretted having to leave them and other family and friends. Finally, tiring, she thanked me for calling and we agreed to talk again soon.

We never did. I called once more a couple weeks later, but Geri was having a "bad day,” so I talked briefly with her daughter, Jamie. In late April, Geri slipped into a coma. She died on April 26, at home, with her mother and daughter beside her. She was 64.

When I received the news recently from Joyce, I was overcome with an unexpected sadness. But perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised at my reaction.

Beauty may be "only skin-deep,” but that doesn't make it any less important in our lives, especially when we are very young. And I know now, after our talk, that there was much more to Geri Schmidt Weinberger that just good looks.

It had been well over 40 years since I last saw Geri. I'm sure she aged, as we all did, but in my memory she will always be 18, lithe and lovely, gracious and kind. Thank you for your golden glow, Geri. We will miss you.

Tim Bazzett is the author of the west Michigan "Reed City Boy” trilogy. His new book about the WWII era, "Love, War & Polio: The Life and Times of Young Bill Porteous,” will be published later this year.