CHS - Class of 79
History Since Graduation

Richard Peeples

Dear Classmates:

After graduation, I went on two senior trips: one to Florida with the guys,
and another to what has since become my favorite state,Colorado,
with First Methodist Church. There we learned rock-climbing and were some of
the last people to be able to drink water right out of the streams; you can't
take that chance any more. Goofed off the rest of that summer before moving
to Louisiana to live with my dad and attend LSU for a whole semester. Things
didn't work out with my stepmother; I mean I love her, but imagine trying to
live with Nurse Ratchett and you get the idea. So I came back to C-patch and
went to 'Theast (NEMJC, or 13th grade) for a semester, then spent the rest
of my college days at Lambuth in Jackson, Tennessee. Had gotten involved in
community theater while back in Corinth, and I got a partial scholarship in
drama at Lambuth (insert limp wrist here). Think what you will, and it won't
bother me, but there are distinct advantages in being the only straight male
in an entire department (insert Groucho Marx eyebrow wiggle here). I got my
degree in Marketing, and it still hangs in my tool shed, framed in duct
tape. Somehow I just have never looked for any work in my field of study;
there are too many things which are much more interesting.

As soon as college let out, Bill Smith, Matt McWhirter, Brady Warren and I
immediately formed a band, dubbed ourselves Void Where Prohibited, and
played school dances and parties; one version of the group played all summer
of 1984 at the Fly-A-Way Club at Pickwick. Barney Hammond and I were house
painters together for a year after college, the I moved to Los Angeles with
Doug McWhirter in September of 1984. Quite a culture shock for two boys from
Mississippi (and for some Californians, too: a girl Doug met asked him how
big his farm was back home). We saw 6-yr-olds smoking and hitting on
prostitutes,and once I swear we saw Jesus crossing a street in Santa Monica.
Those drivers out there seemed to be able to pick out our Magnolia State
license plates pretty quickly and then act accordingly. L.A. is where I
learned to make macaroni and cheese, fry/bake/mash/scallop potatoes, and
wash my own clothes. I never had any money from my job as a book store
clerk. One time I couldn't even scrape up $6 to go see The Replacements, my
favorite band in the whole world ever, at a club within walking distance.

I took a job as emcee for a traveling karaoke show, and slept in some scary,
hairy beds. One night into a week's stay at Darrell Matheny's BB Gun Bobcat
Club in Winnemucca, Nevada, a patron killed a rat I'd made friends with and
I quit the show to join an eco-terrorist group. Remember John Loden? Well,
he was the ring leader (he still sported that same haircut), and we
traversed the Southwest, freeing lab animals from cruel and useless
experimentation. I eventually got caught with a KFC Extra-Crispy drumstick
in my pack and got booted from the gang. Just in time, too; John got nabbed
by the Feds when he stole some goldfish and set them free on Highway 12 in
Arizona. He'd really lost it by then.

Lured back to Mississippi by musician friends, we re-formed Void Where
Prohibited and played lots of frat parties across the Southeast from our
home base in Starkville, where my day job was at a plant nursery/landscaping
business. I like landscaping, because you can stand back after a hard day's
work and behold a thing of beauty. There's something quite peaceful about
that. I even lived back in Corinth for a brief time in 1986 with my brother
Kirk in a big old house on Foote Street we called the "Media-Free Home". No
phone, no TV, no radio, no magazines or newspapers, just the stereo and our
combined record collection. There's something quite peaceful about that,
too.

In late summer of 1987, I visited my cousin Chuck in Greenwich Village, and
there ran into Gary Posey, who's now a big-shot Wall Street broker. He told
me: "Dude, ya gotta follow yer heart". So I did, and moved to Orlando,
Florida, to be with Maury Miller,whom I'd been dating (even with all the
ramblin')for six years. We first met when she moved to Corinth our senior
year, and Tim Holcomb and I used to pick on her in Mrs. Holder's World
History class. One time Demmy Holt and I spotted Maury walking along Shiloh
Road after school and offered her a ride. When she declined, we branded her
a "stuck-up". Later we found out she was in her own front yard. Anyway,
Maury was employed by the Walt Disney Company as a famous water fowl, a job
she held for a couple of years until some brat kid slapped her beak too hard
and injured her neck. She still works for Disney as an administrative
person. I cut all my hair off and enlisted in the Disney corporate ranks as
a ride operator at EPCOT. It was a fun job and in six months I was training
new people on the rides.

Maury and I were married in July of 1989 with the Right Reverend Ginger
Jones Holland officiating. Since that time, I've only met one other couple
who were married by a woman pastor, so that Wild Ging is a pioneer. I think
that was the last time I was inside a church, too No wait; I went to my
sister-in-law's wedding last May--does that count? Hmm.... music is my
church; it's my faith, salvation, and the rock I cling to in stormy weather.
As my dog, Briscoe S. Darling, likes to say: "If you've got time to breathe,
you've got time for music". Amen.

I became a low-ranking manager at Disney and for five years worked just
about all the rides in EPCOT before moving to the Magic Kingdom ticket
department for a year. Couldn't hang there; I hate math and numbers (just
ask Mr. Cole), and spent two years at the MGM Studios as manager of a show
and the Star Wars ride. Had a part-time gig as the guitarist in an Elvis
tribute band during the MGM period. I really liked working at Disney the
first six or so years and I made lots of good friends, but I'm not
interested in playing the Big Business game, so there was a growing
dissatisfaction in the later days. Some folks are suited to work with all
the rules and policies and machinations of a big corporation, but I found it
oppressive. For all its happy public image, Disney is about making lots of
money, and if you've ever paid the admission, you know what I'm talking
about. (Not to mention the fact that they make all the guys wear their hair
like it's 1962).

My best friend at Disney, Gino, was diagnosed with leukemia in the summer of
1994. His illness and eventual death two years later had a profound impact
on me, as did the incredible bravery of himself and his wife. Suddenly, lots
of things that were high priority became very small things; things that held
lots of weight and anxiety now blow away like leaves across the yard. I
could get hit by a bus tomorrow, so now I find the beauty and magic that is
all around me, wherever I happen to be, because I can only live right now. Snicker if you
must; that's how it be. As Oprah says, "This ain't no dress rehearsal".

I left Disney in May of 1995 and Maury and I and our two dogs went on a
three-month vacation, touring and camping across the West. If you've never
taken a three-month vacation, let me take this time to strongly recommend
it. Back home in Florida, I worked winters (if you want to call it that;
it's really just not as hot as summer) at a screen printing shop, printing
T-shirts and tote bags. I also did a brief stint as a waiter at Gaither's
Restaurant in Brevard, North Carolina. The past two summers I was employed
as an interpretive ranger for the National Park Service. I presented
programs and led guided hikes at Florissant Fossil Beds National Monument,
which is located in the rolling mountain meadows of the Central Rockies,
about 35 miles west of Colorado Springs. This job allowed me to finally deal
with my decades-long jealousy of all the classmates (Andy Grady, Dave
Biggers, Greg Bennett, etc) who were Boy Scouts back in high school. Plus, I
got to keep the Smoky Bear hat.

My wife couldn't get any leave time for this summer, so that means no Ranger
Rick this year, and I had to get a real job. Fortunately for me, once again
I have found employment that doesn't involve work. I'm a full-time
storyteller for children at the Orlando Public Library and its twelve
branches. That means I get paid to play guitar and act silly 40 hours a
week. So if you bring the kids to see Mickey Mouse, look me up and we'll get
you some real entertainment.

Well, I've left out a lot of stuff (like the time I stowed away on the
shuttle Endeavor  three years ago. I didn't know it got so cold up there,
and those stuffy big-shot astronauts wouldn't even slide me a blanket. And
you think the restroom on a plane is bad--at least every thing stays where
you want it to go when you're flying Northwest), but this will do for now.

Yours truly,

Richard

P.S. Personally, I thought the final "Seinfeld" was perfect. So there.