Only The Good Die Young....Memories of Billy Joel and Michelle

We are one Warrior smaller.  The Class of 1982, primed and ready for our upcoming 35^th reunion over Homecoming, will be missing one more piece.    Michelle Paige Ferguson lost her valiant battle with brain cancer this past week.  And I am sad. And feeling guilty that I let life get in the way of a visit to an old friend. And I am flooded with faded memories of a beautiful smile and extreme intelligence.  She was witty and kind and so talented—and much more mature than most of us were when we all met a few years ago…..

The Winner School District at one time had an extensive collection of rural schools.  Named for the townships they were located in; they were the place where many of my classmates attended school for grades K-8.   We “town kids” attended grades K-4 at either one of three schools—Eastside, Westside, or Central.  In fifth grade they threw us all together “downtown” at Central School.  Now that, well that was big time.  Four classes, new people, band, PE, and a much bigger playground met us upon our arrival in Grade Five. There seemed to be a little more freedom, too.   I remember it being quite the buzz of social activity at the time.  You saw the kids that lived over on the “other side of town”—the kids you may had heard about or seen at the swimming pool, the baseball diamond or at church or 4H.  Even though Winner was far from a metropolis, the world as we knew it was really our own little neighborhoods, and the carefully drawn school boundaries and boringly-named buildings determined where you spent your first few years of formal education.  I’m not sure any of us even thought about all the others out in the country schools.  And yet I cannot imagine our class without any of them.  As I wrote this I had to think really hard about when it was we all collectively became the (amazing) Class of 82.  Some arrived to the fold in 7^th or 8^th grade, but most completed their education at their township school.

Fast forward to Freshman Year.  For the Class of 1982, that would be the fall of 1978, and it was then that our crew would be expanded to include the Hamill kids, the Plainview posse, the Star Prairie and Ideal kids, and the kids from other places around Tripp County, all leaving the confines of their country school to come to “town school”. (And Michelle? Well she came from the Eden School via Harvard, Massachusetts where her dad had been an engineer before returning to the family farm in Witten in 1976.)  Thinking back, that had to be a huge adjustment for them.  Due to space constraints at the time, the freshmen were housed downtown at the Junior High, so technically, unlike other Freshmen, we were the “big dogs” of the building there…and trust me, we relished that role. It was cool to be a 9^th grader at Winner Junior High.  In my profession, I’ve seen those hungry, excited eyes…. Almost giddy as they wait to “own” the hallways and be assigned the awesome locker spots and preferred study hall seats.  Girls flipping their hair back and guys pushing and shoving their way down the hall so as to announce they have “arrived”.  We were probably the same way…sigh.  By this time were close to 80 strong, and would graduate 86 in May of 1982.

Michelle was someone you liked instantly.  She had a beautiful smile, perfect teeth, and gorgeous olive-colored skin accented by thick black hair.  But even more stunning than her outside beauty, was what you saw on the inside.   She was smart.  And witty and wise.  We warmed the bench on the girls’ basketball team and had a great time doing so…. she made things fun.  I recall being fascinated by her driving ability and her daring spirit.  (Okay, her speeding…daring spirit is code for speeding—it just sounds safer) I cannot for the life of me remember the make or model of her car, but it could fly and she was a really good driver.  She had a maturity about her and could talk to anybody—adults and kids alike.  We were co-editors of the annual our senior year and while I tried to balance cheerleading, a marginal basketball career, school, track, and music activities, she was the one constant that kept things moving forward.  She was the reason it got done.  We both loved our yearbook adviser Mrs. Wranek and by the end of the year, we were pleased with our final project.  Ironically, we both ended up buying the same Prom dress that year (a huge drama in today’s world, but a worthy laugh for the two of us back then) and took a picture for the annual wearing the matching Maurice’s, oh so 80’s, polyester cream gowns. 

  The very first album I ever owned was Billy Joel’s “The Stranger”.  I’m a huge Billy Joel fan.  I love his lyrics, his music, his piano playing… pretty much everything about him.  It was Christmas in 1976 and I was at that difficult present-buying age.  Those of you reading this that have shopped for kids know the age—too old for toys, too picky about clothes, and too young for the grown-up things you thought you needed.   My list no longer involved paging through the Sears Wish Book, earmarking pages of hints for Santa (a.k.a. Bob and Alice) to nestle under the tree on Christmas morning.  I remember seeing the obvious album-shaped package under the tree with a tag penned in my dad’s familiar script “To: Lynn Love, Dad” and was pretty sure it was THE Billy Joel album I had asked for.  Dad was a huge music fan and a great shopper.  I was hopeful  he hadn’t let me down and he hadn’t.  I listened to that disc for hours upon end. I am sure I ruined the needle on the small stereo in my room.  I am pretty sure I could sing the lyrics to the entire collection by the time Christmas break was over.  And I am sure my brother in the bedroom next door was sick of Billy by the 27^th of December.

Michelle also liked Billy Joel.  We were “Carpool Karaoke” before it was a thing.  When Billy Joel’s “Glass Houses” album came out in 1980, we all loved the track “It’s Still Rock-n-Roll to Me”.  My simple plan was to buy the 45 single at Gibson’s or Karl’s when it came out.  Michelle, as always, thought bigger, grander than just having the one single.  She wanted the entire cassette and it was not to be found in Winner. Ever the planner, she had called over to Gregory and found out they had the cassette.  Her plan was to quickly drive down and get the treasured collection of tunes.  She called me and swung by the house (after her 20-plus mile trip to town) where I sprinted to the car with some babysitting money to make my purchase. (And before Alice could ask me what I was doing….very rebel-like for me at the time.)   It was probably the first time I had ever left town without an adult driving.  The trusty car and Michelle’s “daring spirit” made the trip in no time.  We got to the store to find only one cassette left.  Michelle bought the cassette (I would have to wait until Gibson’s pulled through with the loot) and we ripped off the plastic and drove much slower home, singing along and learning Billy’s new tunes.  (Only after stopping to buy a pop at Stukel’s Café and make a few laps up and down our rival school’s Main Street.)  When we later pulled into Winner, I felt like we had been on some wild, exotic adventure, yet it was just another day for Michelle.  Even back then, she was bigger and brighter than many of us…she knew there was more to this old world than the confines of Tripp County or South Dakota.   She would see the world and do great things I was sure.  And she did….After our graduation, she steered her beloved car towards SDSU and began her life as a college co-ed.  But after her freshman year, she realized how much she missed the excitement that big cities and the east coast could provide. So she decided to move to New York to become a nanny.   I remember her calling me and encouraging me to come along and find a nanny job, but I was too chicken—too confined by what I thought I should be doing (life guarding and teaching swimming lessons AGAIN) and declined her offer of adventure.  

 Deep down I was not surprised when I heard Michelle wasn’t returning for her Fall semester at SDSU.  Nor was I surprised when I heard she had enrolled at Long Island University, graduating with an accounting degree that would take her to Pace University Law School.  She passed the bar on the first try (Of course she did J) and began her career of service as a lawyer for a union.  She was soaring….and none of us were surprised.  I like to think that while she was accomplishing all these amazing things, that she sprinkled some of her “South Dakota Nice” through the busy streets and bustling boroughs of her beloved New York City. Certainly these folks had to see how remarkable she was…

I was lucky to reconnect with Michelle through Facebook these past few years.  Her messages were always so funny and upbeat despite her battle with the brain tumors. Even in this battle she was “bigger and brighter” than most.   We discussed our love of Billy Joel and how much she now disliked his popular hit “Only the Good Die Young”.   I totally understood.  She wrote with love about her friends and her “nanny kids”—they were an important part of her life and I could sense the pride she felt in their accomplishments. They were often long conversations and sometimes there were long gaps in the time that passed between them.   I treasure the fact we had this chance to reconnect, and regret I had hadn’t kept in better touch with her the past 20 years. I’m glad we got a chance to visit at our last reunion. And I feel bad I missed her birthday party a few weeks ago when we were moving Scott to college. 

One of my most loved Billy Joel songs is an older, less popular piece, but one of my favorites just the same.  It’s lyrics ring true tonight as I attempt to write this blog….The song, “Summer Highland Falls” tells us we are always what our situations hand us and we are either happy or sad, but we have the choice. 

They say that these are not the best of times
But they're the only times I've ever known
And I believe there is a time for meditation
In cathedrals of our own

Now I have seen that sad surrender in my mother's eyes
I can only stand apart and sympathize
For we are always what our situations hand us
Its either sadness or euphoria

So as many of the Class of 1982 gather later tonight or on Friday morning, I pray we will take this time to celebrate and remember Michelle.  Remember her fight and grit and her beautiful smile and her kind spirit.  And take some time for mediation and remember how fortunate you are to be living this gig we call life…..and take it all in—the sadness and euphoria.  I’m positive Michelle would want us to.