Blathering from Stan

This is Stan Hilinski. You can check out my yearbook picture, and maybe you might remember me. So here's what happened. When I got out of high school, I spent 4 years at Gannon, then moved south to attend grad school at the University of Maryland. I spent 2 years there before I couldn't stand it anymore and got out with a Masters degree. I then went to work for NASA for the next gazillion years, mostly writing software to do with spacecraft. Somewhere around 2005 or so, I retired and here I am, never married, with 3 cats and living in Laurel Maryland, which is mid-way between Wash DC and Baltimore. That's the short version. Sometime maybe I will write the more colorful one.

I get back to Erie once in awhile. I still have family there, although both my parents are dead, and the land we owned is sold. My younger brother Carl lives just outside Winchester Virginia (110 miles from my door), and we get together at his house at the holidays. The last time I was in Erie was a few years ago for my Mother's funeral, and for a few years before, my friend Susan and her dog Katie (a nice german shepherd) would go up there to Presque Isle every September. It's a wonderful time to be there because the beaches are pretty much empty, which is great for the dog, and yet it's still pretty warm.

If you look at my picture in my profile, you will see I'm at the beach in Erie. You can't tell it, but I'm happy. What you can't see is there is a gigantic pit that the dog dug right beneath my feet. On the first day we got there, I had dug my feet in the sand and poked my toes out. Katie (the dog) went diving for them. For the rest of the week, she insisted on digging deep looking for the evil toe monsters. Oh, sure, I moved my chair, but she would just be back at it in the new spot. I have pictures of her with her eyes peaking above the hole. Eventually, the chair and I collapsed into the hole. Susan thought it was hilarious.

On one of my last visits, I decided to visit the old homestead where I grew up. My family lived on Buffalo Road right near 6-mile creek and next to the township buildings. We had an old farmhouse, a "chicken house" that turned into my Father's workshop, an old barn, and 100 acres of land. Yes, I grew up with pigs, chickens, and cows. I remember that Carl and I had to milk the cows every night up until my parents got rid of them some time when I was in high school. I could walk back of our property with my dog and go east through "wilderness" (not see a house or yard) and get to the high school in about 30-40 minutes. I remember a handful of times walking home from school following that route. I used to ride the bus, and I was always the last one on or off. When I walked home, I always got to my door just as the bus was passing by, so it never saved or lost me time when I did it.

The day I visited "home", I knocked on the door and explained myself, and the woman there said it was ok if I nosed about the grounds. My parents had torn down the old house and built a new one, but the barn and chickenhouse are still standing. A little girl who lived there let me into the chickenhouse, and then I wandered alone back to the old barn and beyond. Standing there on the hillside behind the barn, I was overloaded with memories -- my "circuit breaker" popped. My Father had put a mix of different colored shingles on the backside roof because he didn't want people from the road to see the color mix but he needed to use them up. They were still up there. Man, I drove cows through the lane there, and just over there I had found an edible mushroom the size of a big dinnerplate just after a rain storm. And right where I'm standing we used to go sledding. I reached down and picked up a nice stone from the hillside and stuck it in my pocket. I knew I was never coming back, and it was the only connection I'd have to this place. I still have it -- my good luck charm.

When I left high school, I did not keep in touch with anyone. Same goes for when I left college. It was always new friends. However, throughout the years, I did run into old 68 Harborcreek grads, some in strange places. When I went to Gannon, I remember seeing Cathy Ganzer, and I think Lynn Mack was there too. I remember one day when I went down to the lounge and Lynn said: "You just missed Anne Shade! She just now walked out the door!" Well, I just sat there like a lump, and to this day I wished I had chased after her and dragged her back for awhile. What a dope.

Then a few years later, I went to Our Lady of Mercy Church with my parents, and I ran into Art Churchill in the parking lot. He was dressed in a uniform and I believe he was in the state police force. It was really nice talking to him, and he was really charming.

After I was in Maryland, a couple times when I returned, I drove out to Mazza's vineyard and talked to Bob Mazza and Gary Mosier. It was great. Gary and I go back to first grade, and I hated it when I heard he had died. He had a really good soul even back at old Central School. You could tell even then.

Then sometime much later (early 80s maybe or very late 70s), I was in this bar (the Town Hall) in College Park Maryland, and in walks Sandra Gest with her boyfriend. They were going from somewhere to somewhere and just happened to stop in for a few minutes. This was a Coincidence with a capital C I remember her boyfriend saying "Boy! You two probably have lots to talk about!" We both looked at each other, laughed, and said "no, not really." It wasn't said with malice, it was just the way it was.

The next one is a puzzler because I think I might have dreamed it. I have this idea that one time I ran into Gig Westland under similar circumstance to my Sandy Gest encounter. I think the fact that she was standing next to her "boyfriend", a tall, purple-skinned creature, should be the tipoff it was a dream. Ok, I'm kidding. There was no purple creature, but I still don't remember if I ran into her or not.

And lastly, a few years ago, I exchanged emails with Bradley Bole. He had tracked me down from Florida, where I believe he is a lawyer. When Beth called me to find my lost soul, I tried to email him, but it bounced. However, he's still down there; I found him doing some searches. Maybe I'll call him.

Sadly, we have gotten to an age where I don't recognize anyone anymore. I sometimes wonder if I've ever sat in a doctor's office or airport, and the person next to me might be someone I used to know. I remember when I looked at the photo of the last reunion, I asked myself "Who ARE these people?!" Funny thing is I could have gone to the last reunion. I was in town on an emergency, and I considered dropping in even though I hadn't registered. I didn't, and I think I goofed. What a dope. Cripes, I have rattled on long enough. Bye, now.