Brent Taylor
Jul 30, 2017 · 5 min read

I remember the last time I saw Harry Whittaker. We were standing in a pasture in the gathering dusk of a late May evening in 1977, just hours removed from walking across a stage at the Adams Gymnasium in a flat hat and shaking the hand of Dennis Pannel. We talked that night and reminisced and in parting, he wished me well in life and we shook hands. Harry slipped a five-dollar bill into my hand during the handshake, the settling of a bet we had made about some game I can’t even remember now. I remember winning the bet sometime earlier that winter of 1977, over some spurious bet we had made, maybe the Super Bowl, and I also remember refusing payment, saying it was all in good fun. Harry never forgot and his parting handshake was his way of saying you are a good friend and I didn’t forget.

I always loved talking to Harry. He made you feel better than you had the right to feel about yourself. We played the same position on the football team, wide receiver and cornerback, and during scrimmages, we blocked and pass covered one another. On one particular play from scrimmage, Harry was getting pretty vocal which he was good at doing, getting in my grill a bit. On the next play I busted him pretty good and split his lip. I felt bad about busting him in the chops on a inter-squad scrimmage. But in typical Whittaker fashion, through the blood streaming from his mouth, he slapped me on the butt, a peculiar habit we men have which thankfully didn’t carry over to the office, and he said, “Way to hit tata bud…that’s the way we play!”

This past weekend we experienced the 40 year reunion of the College High School 1977 class of Wildcats.

Our stories from 40 plus years ago were unpacked from dusty attic boxes in our memory and yet, surprisingly, once the dust is blown away, they are fresh again, renewed by the remarkable magic of human interaction, as conversation and hugs sprout scenes from our salad days like suddenly appearing mushrooms on a misty lawn.

Seven of us played golf Friday and as I watched left handed Tom Vogt swing, one memory jumped out at me like a grinning leprechaun. One day Tom and I played nine holes and we swapped golf clubs. I played lefty and he played righty, and I felt like a beginner once again. That memory would have stayed locked away without seeing Tom this weekend. That and the memory of three good friends from Limestone Grade School, who all lived on Whipporwill ct, David Staats, Tom, and Tony Hayes.

Memory becomes who we are, our identity. We are College High Wildcats, but that is pretty meaningless if it sits in a box in an attic gathering dust. We affirm who we have become by looking back at the experiences that have framed our identity, and the people who have busted our lips and loved us with passion and sometimes with a glorious awkwardness.

We are after all, collectors, dealers in memory. Keepers of time and space. It’s really all we have. Our money doesn’t travel well, our houses need painting, our cars break down, our clothes wind up at Goodwill. But moments in time, that’s the stuff we keep.

Here is the stuff I’m keeping in my memory attic, quotes and stories from classmates at our 40th reunion.

I remember Thomas Benson well, the hard-tackling linebacker for the Oklahoma Sooners in the early 1980’s who later played in the National Football League for nine seasons. He was not at my high school reunion, but I did sit next to his brother at dinner, Allen Benson, (Regina’s husband) a genuinely nice guy, even if he did play college football for the Oklahoma State Cowboys. Allen introduced himself to my wife Karen, and Steve Osborn’s wife, Susan. “Hi, my name is Walter.”

Apparently someone had approached Allen and said, “Walter, glad to see you here. Thought you couldn’t make it.” This joke was lost on the two ladies as they didn’t know Walter Reece who once busted my front tooth in 9th grade as we shadow boxed and he forgot his power and cracked my tooth. (Allen looks nothing like Walter by the way) Steve chimed in, “You all look the same anyway.” Can he say that?

“You OK?” Allen Benson to his wife, Regina Benson, who had a heart attack unbeknownst to them both, and as a result, Regina got no sleep, while Allen would occasionally roll over and ask, “You ok?”, then go back to sleep.

The next morning…“We had a tough night last night didn’t we?” Allen Benson to his wife Regina after the heart attack which they only identified 4 days later as a heart attack.

After the heart attack diagnosis, “I’m gonna take out three of them and then the other two will back down!” Regina Benson to the five health care attendants in the emergency room after they prepped her for a treatment.

“Please, get up, coach Switzer will kill us.” Tom Vogt telling about the terror of taking out a Heisman running back playing pick-up basketball at OU as Steve Osborn undercuts a 5’11’ guy with cornrows who had taken off from the free throw line to slam dunk. They didn’t recognize Billy Sims who usually had a huge afro, as he sprang back to his feet without using his hands like a Ninja warrior. (Steve seems to struggle with facial recognition)

Sometimes the things we remember are profound, other times not…“I remember your house had a round vacuum cleaner connection you plugged into!” David Staats

“That’s what he just said to me as we were walking into the reception.” Shawna Thill, after they had walked into the Friday reception and I told her what Howard said to me during commencement at the Adams Gym May 1977 while Lt. Governor George Nigh spoke about Pink Floyd and something or other about education and youth of today… “Hey, tata bud, I gotta pee like a racehorse.”

“He was a good man.” Mike Seals after I told him how much my Dad used to love watching Mike play basketball.

The Hillcrest Men’s Grill after the golf game Friday, “………………………..” I’ve taken a vow of secrecy, but it reminded me of driving home on the bus after a basketball or football game.

“I watched 40 years flash before my eyes!” what many people thought when seeing someone they hadn’t seen since May 1977. Actually, several people said this to me.

“You look exactly the same.” all the people who were lying or talking to Regina or Kathy or Adele

“Steve, where did you go to college?” Kathy Garrison to her life-long designated chauffeur, friend, and confidant. Steve’s answer… “OU, just like you…I was in the dorm right next to you.”

Carolyn Adams Kathy Axsom
Lonnie Barnhart
George Beazer
Debbie Beashear
Vicky Bernard
Melissa Carver
James Cottle
Carol Lynn Creel
Veronica Cueller
Marla Cunningham Wood
Lee Hardt
Monty Hays
John Hernandez
Rhonda Ishem
Becky Jones
Carolyn Landrum
Geneva Marshal

Cindy Ramsey
David Shaw
Lynn Sutherland
Egynn Thomas
Ethie Weaver Radanovich
Harry Whittaker
Mark Williams