Well, you reminded me of Hartman Reserve again! It was the perfect place to be when camp was not in session. I used to roam those grounds for hours, playing cowboys and Indians, and later just hiking around by myself. And then when we were in high school, the hall rentals on that "sacred ground" for parties by our class! (It almost seemed like a sacrilege, considering how it was my refuge!) I remember one time when parents were bringing kids for camp, so we had to turn around and head home instead of into the reserve. Someone, I think it was Malcom Renz, got the bright idea that we should pretend that we were all wiped out by a speeding car on its way to the camp.  We draped ourselves over rocks in many dramatic and tragic poses when we heard another car coming. All we got for our efforts was a big laugh coming out of the car!

 I also remember Raleigh Buckmaster having a broken arm or leg every year in grade school. And how everyone teased us mercilessly during our brief "best friendship" one year. I was heartbroken, because he was the funnest friend I had. However, had it continued, I probably would have ended up with as many broken bones as he did!

 Then there was the year that I had the biggest crush on Kirk Fry. Part of that was that I thought his dad was the greatest, so I loved going over to their house when his dad was home.  I was so flattered (5th grade--6th grade maybe) when I thought he noticed me, and we started walking home from school together. I had a wonderful rush of love fulfilled until I found out he was more interested in my new microscope set than he was in me! He invited someone else to meet him at Cindy Hansen's birthday party! It sent me back to the drawing board on the mystery of boys.

 And then there was when my mom wouldn't let me watch that diabolically immoral Dick Clark's American Bandstand. Mom couldn't understand why I wanted to go over to Diane Barnard's house every day after school "to study" until she called there one day to say she was coming to pick me up, and Diane's mom said, "Sure--I'll go get her. She and Diane are watching Bandstand." Oops!

Now that our beloved 'playground’, Hartman Reserve, is all controlled and citified, I have the same 'sacrilege' feeling.  It was our home...our stomping grounds...and now you have to stay on the trails, not touch anything, or drag any treasure home, like a pollywog or jack-in-the-pulpit.  Sometimes I rebel, and just go tearing over forbidden ground off the designated path like a wild thing.  Makes me feel really GOOD!              

We had great times there.  Like the time my ingenious brother, Fred, built himself a 'submarine' out of some old green gas tank, and decided to try it out in a dammed up part of the Hartman stream.  He told us to watch him carefully as he took his maiden voyage.  He set sail, sank, and nothing happened as far as we could tell, except a few bubbles rising to the surface.  We got bored and started playing around...and eventually he came thrashing to the surface, coughing, very wet and nearly drowned.  Boy, was he mad at us!

 We also had a beloved 'mine' under a huge rock by the same stream.  We would haul our mining shovels, canteens, pick-axes, lunch boxes and other paraphernalia down to our mine and work all day like a chain gang!  Once we found a large Indian hammerhead that should be in a museum, but which is coveted by one of my brothers still, I am sure. 

 I still take walks there sometimes...and am sure I can hear the laughter of all of us playing among the trees...what an enchanted back yard we had in which to frolic our summers away!  How I hated to see it end, and to be dragged inside and back to school...

December of 1965 was a great time.  I looked forward to seeing my classmates
who had gone onto other colleges and would return to the Pizza House during
break.  We would share our stories of being BMOCs (Big Men on Campus) and
other lies.  We would join the college kids who disdainfully looked down
their noses at the high schoolers that liked to hang there just as was done
to us a few short months earlier.
During this time we gathered in Tom’s basement and thoroughly enjoyed our
stories of college life. I am using the name Tom for clarity only.   I
happened to notice a cool wall decoration in Tom’s baseement.  A sign
declaring “Nude showers were required before entering the pool”.  I told Tom
how much I admired his sign.  Tom assured me that there was another sign
just like it at Ray Edwards and that he would help me get it.  Tom cleared
the chain link fence easily while I struggled with gravity and fear.  I got
over the fence just as the cops arrived. Obviously Tom had had more
experience in these matters because he was across the pool and had scaled
the north fence and was long gone before I caught on to the gravity of the
situation.  I crossed the pool and climbed the fence in record time just
beating the cop into the woods.  I did not know there was a creek behind the
pool and went crashing down the embankment into the creek and out the other
side dropping into a hollow to catch my breath and allow time for my heart
to slow.  The police used searchlights and walked around for some time
before letting me off the hook

My favorite CFHS football story came from our homecoming game in 1964.  I
told this story often during my 22 years of coaching at West Waterloo HS.
Nearing the end of a disappointing season we were leading 7th rated Mason
City for most of the game. I and another player sacked the quarterback just
as he released the ball. We will call the other player Sam so as not to
disparage the rest of my great teammates.  All three of us stood up to see
the MC receiver far downfield scoring the go ahead touchdown.  The other
Tiger swore “f**k no that’s my man” !  Sam was our safety and he was to keep
us safe from those kinds of plays.  The ensuing kickoff was returned quite a
ways by a fired up Dennis Ackerson.  In the huddle an emotional  the late
Warren McCaffery said “Give me the ball.  My grandfather is dieing in the
hospital and he is listening to this game.”  My memories are that Warren
carried the ball several times and eventually scored giving us a great
Homecoming victory.
 

About 1989 I visited Dr. Kenneth Budke for my occasional dose of pain.  I
noticed that Ken was working on Coach Keith Young so encouraged Ken to check out his pain threshold.  Later, as Keith walked by the room in which I was
sprawled in Ken’s dental chair he glanced in and comented to me “still
looking at the lights huh Gulick!”
 

I have many fond memories of my wonderful days at CFHS and the great teachers and classmates I interacted with daily.  One memory that I have is the knowledge that I gained in Mr. Anton Hofstead’s chemistry class.  Besides learning every bit of knowledge that is contained in the Periodic Table of Elements, I learned that “the wages of sin are death”.  This information was supplemented by a gentle tug of my hair every time that Mr. H caught me talking in class, which must have been every fifteen minutes, or so.

I got swatted by Mr. Swanson on my 12th birthday for fighting.  Being a
large slow person I was frequently challenged by smaller but stronger and
quicker classmates.  I felt like I was in the Wild West and that people made
their reputation by picking a fight with me and moving up the toughness
ladder.  Kyle Hansen was always tricking me with the circle formed by his
thumb and forefinger trick.  If I saw it below his knee he got to punch me
as hard as he could on my arm.  But if I called returns before he wiped off
the damaged area I could hit him back.  Kyle chose me because I always
looked and he could wipe before I could shout “returns”.  I was an easy
mark.

I have many fond memories of my wonderful days at CFHS and the great teachers and classmates I interacted with daily.  One memory that I have is the knowledge that I gained in Mr. Anton Hofstead’s chemistry class.  Besides learning every bit of knowledge that is contained in the Periodic Table of Elements, I learned that “the wages of sin are death”.  This information was supplemented by a gentle tug of my hair every time that Mr. H caught me talking in class, which must have been every fifteen minutes, or so.