Am I getting older, or are the cheerleaders getting younger?

The following was originally published October 3, 2015.

Dear Readers,

I wonder if it will be safe to wear my raccoon coat in California this New Year’s Day. It would be ruined if Pamela Anderson and her animal rights friends threw paint on it. However, nothing says college spirit like a raccoon coat; I think I’ll risk it. I’ve already booked my flight to Pasadena.

Just a couple of weeks ago, I along with the Shelbyville High School Band, witnessed I.U. defeat the Western Kentucky Hilltoppers. I.U. remains undefeated and later today in Bloomington they play an undefeated Ohio State team ranked number one in the nation. I’m thinking that with a win, this could be the year. I.U. hasn’t been in the Rose Bowl since 1968. So long ago that O.J. Simpson was playing for Southern Cal. instead of in the senior league of the Nevada Department of Corrections. O.J. helped Southern Cal. beat I.U. 14 to 3 that year. The I.U. faithful have been hoping for a return trip to the Rose Bowl for almost 50 years.

An old timer sitting next to me at the Western Kentucky game commented that the cheerleaders look younger every year. The old timer gave me an idea. I figure that I.U. will need all the help that it can get to defeat Ohio State, so I’m bringing along a couple of cheerleaders from the classes of 2034 and 2037.

Speaking of old timers, one in my neighborhood gave me some good advice this week. He told me to be sure to return my port a potty to the rental company before Halloween.

For those of you who haven’t been paying attention, I had a port a potty installed in my backyard a couple of weeks ago in order to get myself psyched up for the Pioneer Fair. I was planning on returning it as soon as it was full.

According to the old timer, in the good old days, young boys thought it was a funny prank to tip over outhouses on Halloween. He said that some of the old guys in the neighborhood were planning on reliving their youth at my expense by tipping over my port a potty. It was the closest thing to an outhouse that they could find.

I’ve thought it over and decided not to return the port a potty yet. I don’t want to ruin the old guy’s fun. So long as I am not in the port a potty when they tip it over, it shouldn’t cause any harm. It might even help my grass fight back against the clover.

As Halloween approaches, so does my 60th birthday, and I’ve been thinking more and more about reliving my youth. In fact, just last Wednesday, I thought about reliving a very specifi c day.

I read a news story about September 30 being the 60th anniversary of the death of James Dean. In 1975, I was a student at Ball State. It was the twentieth anniversary of James Dean’s death and I had watched a TV special about the life of the famous Hoosier actor.

My roommate at the time was a fellow Shelbyville High School graduate and my childhood friend, Tony Wilson. We gassed up Tony’s Plymouth and on September 30, 1975, took a road trip to Fairmount, Indiana, to visit the grave of James Dean.

We talked to some people in Fairmount who actually knew Dean. I can remember being amazed that people could actually remember things from 20 years ago. Now that road trip of ours was 40 years ago and I can remember it very well. I can remember it so well that I decided I didn’t need to gas up the Hyundai and relive the experience.

Just think. If James Dean were alive today, he would be 84. I’ll bet he would even remember when I.U. went to the Rose Bowl.