BOOMER REUNION POET LAUREATE
JIM HETTIG'S MAGNIFICENT POEM
COMMEMORATING "COMING OF AGE"
AT AMHERST IN THE SIXTIES & THE
JUNE 2011 ALUMNI BOOMER REUNION
By popular demand, here's the wonderful poem commemorating our "Coming of Age" at Amherst High School in the 1960's that "brought down the house" with waves of unbridled cheers, laughter & a raucous standing ovation, at the Boomer Reunion dinner & cabaret show on June 24, 2011 at Samuel's Grande Manor. This magnificent poem was recited with great flair & a perfect sense of both comic timing and nostalgic pathos by our very gifted Poet Laureate Jim Hettig ('67) as a special welcome to the lucky 125 Amherst Alumni -- representing the Classes of '63 - '70 & their guests -- who were there in person.
Historically & traditionally, poets laureate have composed poems for particularly important official occasions. In ancient Greece, the laurel was sacred to the god Apollo, and was used to form a crown or wreath of honor for poets (who were held in very high esteem) and other heroes. As "An Elegant Lady" amply demonstrates, since last January -- when the Boomer Reunion chair appointed Jimmy Hettig as our Poet Laureate -- he has worn his laurel crown with great pride & distinction. Thank you so much, Jim!
So now, here's Jim's memorable poem, for all Amherst Boomers -- both "hoods" & "squeaks" -- to enjoy & treasure with smiles on their faces as they think back upon their very special years at Amherst High School! (You may also click here to watch the video of Jim's marvelous recital).
An Elegant Lady
Jim Hettig '67
Copyright 2011
Not far west of Harlem,
On the southern side of Main,
In the hamlet known as Snyder,
We embark down Memory Lane.
For here stands stately Amherst,
And within her ivied walls
The spirits of our younger selves
Still roam those hallowed halls.
Now lofty praise and platitudes
Won't quite grasp what I recall.
We'll hearken back to yesteryear,
But we'll do it warts and all.
For at times the ride got bumpy -
It's a fact that we all know.
So saddle up you Tigers...
Let's start this rodeo!
The first time that I climbed those steps
And pushed through that big oak door,
My sophomore heart was thumpin',
I had butterflies galore.
For this was it ... the "Big House!"
I was feeling kind of small.
The throbbing zit between my eyes
Didn't help things much at all.
Wild appetites and urges,
We were at an awkward age...
Squirming with pubescence,
Our hormones all a-rage.
My attention span grew narrow,
My thoughts would tend to wander.
Scholastics would just fade away
When I had bigger things to ponder.
That Pythagorean Theorem?...
Well, it never stood a chance,
When a girl walked by in koolats...
"Is that a skirt or are those pants?!"
And those movie star twelfth-graders
In tight sweaters that would cling...
"Ya think she's wearing falsies,
Or are those the real thing?!"
We faced some tricky waters
We all had to navigate.
You had to start to map it out...
Which way you'd gravitate.
Our turf was split between two camps...
Kind of tribal so to speak.
You had to make your mind up...
"Are ya hood or are ya squeak?"
And clan affiliation
Would dictate what you wore...
Like penny loafers and a crew cut
Or shit kickers and a pompadour.
But none of this would matter soon
For these were changing times.
A tidal wave was coming
That would shift our paradigm.
Ed Sullivan would bring it here
On his Sunday TV show.
The act was huge - it changed the world!...
And it wasn't Topo Gigio
No, this group came from England
And redefined our sense of cool.
They swept us off our teen-age feet -
Four long-haired lads from Liverpool.
And then everything went English,
We just couldn't get enough -
Like English Leather, British Walkers
Pea coats and duffers and stuff.
But the real gift these boys brought us
Was the music that they made -
The sound track for our high school years.
It still knocks me out today!
Sometimes we had to move beyond
The prying eyes of teachers.
We fought and necked and drank some beers
In the shadows 'neath the bleachers.
But as we grew and learned to drive,
The school grounds seemed to cramp us.
Whenever we could get some wheels,
We'd seek our thrills off-campus.
The last bell of the day would ring
And we'd bow our heads in thanks.
Then a mad dash to our lockers
And the race was on to Frank's!
We'd stampede to the parking lot
And burn out down the street.
Frank's was the honkin' hot spot
Where the "In-Crowd" went to meet!
Loganberry was our drink
With french fries drenched in gravy.
Big Nancy had a mouth on her
Like a veteran of the navy.
Amidst the smoke and laughter,
There were secrets that were told,
"There's a party at the club house...
Don't dare tell a soul!"
The location was convenient
Cause standing right next door
Was Brunner's for when we'd come of age,
And some of us before.
We'd blast down Hertel Avenue
On our way to Alioto's ...
Ten screamin' kids all crammed inside
A fifty-five Desoto.
"Raven" and "The Road" were bands
With local drawing power.
"The Maniacs" were playing
At Grand Island's Idle Hour.
I lost my brother's fake ID
To a bouncer at the Glen -
The Inferno was the place I'd gone
To hear Wilson Pickett sing.
So many things throughout those years
I think back upon and smile.
I'd love to travel back in time,
If only for a while.
I'd spend a summer day with friends...
Our skin was tan, our hair sun-bleached -
Iodine and baby oil...
Allegany, Sherkston, Crystal Beach.
I'd zip my Barracuda
Against the chill October air
And stand and cheer our football team
In the spirit that we shared.
I'd carefully pin her corsage on,
And she my boutonnier.
We'd join our decked-out classmates
For the prom, our senior year.
And before my time back then was up,
I'd seek an explanation
For a policy the school employed
In physical education.
In swim class girls were stylin'
In a tank suit and a cap.
The boys swam bare-ass naked...
Now what was up with that?!!
Just one last thing before I close,
And it's weighed heavy on my mind.
For Amherst, our grand matriarch,
The years have not been kind.
She was once an elegant lady,
Draped in an emerald gown.
Someone ripped her dress away...
Who the hell took the ivy down?!!
JIM HETTIG ('67) - A design & sales consultant in Williamsville, NY (who recently moved to Orlando, FL) & a talented poet (he's the Boomer Reunion's Poet Laureate!), he has a BA from SUNYAB in Secondary English Education & reports that he's often mistaken for Sean Connery! The Brunner's "pudding wrestling" contest he promised would take place last July was an elaborate hoax on his part, & alas was not to be! 
