Greg Budell

My high school graduating class is having another one of those benchmark reunions this month.

While pondering my RSVP, I recalled a comment made by the most influential teacher in my life, Miss Donna Banks.

I had Miss Banks for English and Journalism. I aced them both but her everlasting contribution to my career was her emphasis on creative thinking. The process of seeking interesting things, or better yet- finding something interesting about something seemingly boring, has come in handy over 5 decades in media.

Something else Miss Banks said in class also stuck with me.

She was thirty-something at the time when she said “I hated my 20s! I would NEVER want to relive my 20s again!”.

This struck a room of 17–18-year-olds as odd. No one said it out loud, but we were thinking, “you’d rather be OLDER than younger?”!

Miss Banks was a wise woman. I was half-way into my 30s when her statement made inarguable sense.

Recently it occurred to me to ask my Facebook family (most are past 29) about that era in life.

The question- what did you care about in your twenties that you don’t care about today? Hundreds of people replied. They made me laugh, cry and realize how un-uniquely the same we are.

The Top 3 answers-

I get it. It took several trips to rehab to finally form my own opinion of who I am. It took time to separate myself from my work. Obviously, I care that enough people love what I do so I can keep doing what I love. If someone doesn’t like me personally, well, that’s their opinion and I just don’t have time to try and change it. Or worry about it.

Funny how this works. In my 20s, I had to have something lined up for the weekend. Every weekend. A Saturday night that didn’t involve a woman or place to be seemed like such a wasted opportunity! Then things changed. I recall a Saturday evening in my early 30s. I had a nice place with a highrise view of the ocean in Pompano Beach. I had nothing planned, but did have a great book, a few movies on VHS (LOL) and was shocked at how happy I was to relax and do nothing. Was I growing up? Finally?

One of my Facebook commenters laughingly looked back on his obsession with the size of the speakers in his car and home audio system. This was an aspect of life where size mattered. Oh, my beautiful Marantz tuner pumping Styx into my 5-foot-tall speakers and the several of the first 48-inch TVs among many other baubles. I watched all of it roll down the driveway at 10 cents on the dollar when times got tough- hell, they were awful- in the late 90s. Friends consoled me by saying “Greg, it’s just stuff. It can be replaced”. They were right of course. Over time, I replaced all my stuff. In fact, I over-replaced it. Now, I’m trying to get rid of stuff. There’s a garage sale coming up! I’ll announce the date as soon as I can move the Grade B stuff out of the way so people can buy the Grade A stuff, I wonder why I bought in the first place.

Honorable Mention in the Facebook experiment went to Cars, My Appearance and Trying to Please Everybody. The thread was beautiful in that so many expressed what they really care about now- God, family and the USA.

So, about the reunion RSVP. I went to my STUFF-like 5ft black lacquer speakers 40th and left very disappointed. When I signed in, I saw a list of familiar names and asked if they were attending. “No”, I was told. “They’re dead”. Wow! Welcome back! It reminded me of the scene in Gone With The Wind when the Atlanta newspaper was handing out casualty lists from Gettysburg. For a good part of the night, I sat with a couple buddies chatting over a bowl

of mostaccioli (a Chicago dining staple). We didn’t talk chicks. Or sports. Or music.

Everyone was retiring or getting ready for it. Not one person still lived in the Chicago city limits. A few lively stories about Viagra broke up the never-ending diatribe about surgeries and things “I don’t do anymore”.

Before the “party” and against my better judgement, I drove back to my old neighborhood.

Once a monument to the Greatest Generation and Boomerhood, I was sickened by its decaying state. Not one of the original neighbors was left. They’d fled Chicago like everyone else. The safest place on earth seemed cold and hostile. My high school was in disrepair with broken windows, and enough wear and tear to be emblematic of a very broken city (as you may have heard in the news).

The roads were wretched, traffic abysmal. I stopped by the cemetery where Mom and Dad rest and came to a conclusion.

“Mom. Pops. Next time I see you we’ll all be in the same place. I can’t come back here anymore”. If I hated what I saw 10 years ago, it’s only going to be worse in 2022. For more information, visit www.HeyJackass.com.

My Reunion RSVP is “no”. I’ll spend that weekend at the Alabama Fair thanking people who keep me doing what I love.

The River Region is my happy home. I don’t need to travel 700 miles to relive the “good old days”.

Instead, I’ll abide by one of my all- time favorite song lyrics by BOOMer Goddess Carly Simon, from her song “Anticipation”.

Sing along!

“And stay right here, 'cause these are the good old days".

(If you have a comment on this column, email me at gregbudell@aol.com. It's still fun to hear from new people!)

Greg Budell lives in Montgomery with his wife, Roz, Stepson, Sho, and dogs Hershey and Briscoe. He’s been in radio since 1970, and has marked 16 years in the River Region. He hosts the Newstalk 93.1FM Morning Show with Rich Thomas, Jay Scott & Jessie Lynn, 6-9 AM Monday-Friday. He returns weekday afternoons from 3-6 PM for Happy Hour with sidekick Rosie Brock. Greg can be reached at gregbudell@aol.com.