John and Carol Reedy had a fan club but they did not know it. The club had one member. Me.

Now, I don’t doubt there were scores of others who gladly would have joined. Some maybe even had a fan club of their own – after all, the Reedys had six children and plenty of friends. But my club was unique. Unique in its obscurity – nobody knew about it. And unique in its reason for being – it had none.

Well, that’s not quite right. It had one reason: the simple fact that I admired this couple since I was a freshman in high school.

The year was 1964. Carol Orth was a senior at Pittston High. John Reedy had graduated the year before. They were friends of my eldest sister, Sheila, who, like Carol, was a majorette. Carol came to our house in her majorette outfit before every parade and football game.

I’m pretty sure neither John nor Carol knew I was alive. And throughout the years, that did not change much. John always took the time to say hello if he ran into me, and I liked and appreciated that. It made me feel special. Carol I rarely saw.

But 44 years ago, these two were everything I thought a boyfriend and girlfriend should be. I found Carol absolutely beautiful, in a Sophia Loren sort of way. And John always reminded me of James Garner. His nickname in high school was “Speedy.” John “Speedy” Reedy. Now, that’s a name.

At 14 years old, I was sure that if I could look like Speedy Reedy and have a girlfriend who looked like Carol Orth, I’d be very, very happy.

Who knows why I singled out these two and why I continued to admire them from afar. But I did.

I’d take note of milestones in their lives – the births of children and then grandchildren – and somehow feel that all was right with the world. In an age where more than 50 percent of marriages end in divorce (I’m a statistic myself), there is something about couples who survive that does my heart good. The Reedys, I suppose, represented all I believed about love before I learned the truth about “happily ever after.” I need to know there are couples like this.

I’ve written before that when you find yourself an adult in the same place where you grew up you wind up attending a lot of funerals. That’s the way it is when everyone seems to know one another. So, when I saw in Monday’s paper that Carol Reedy had died, I knew I’d soon be getting a call from my sister.

As I waited by the phone, I read the obituary with a heavy heart. Carol and John had been married for 43 years. They had six children and six grandchildren. Carol was one of eight children. (I knew her sister Sally best.)

Sheila said she had a picture of Carol and John with Sheila and Paul (that’s my brother-in-law Paul Kern, speaking of couples who last) on the night of their senior prom. Looking at it brought back a flood of memories and confirmed my assessment about what a good-looking couple John and Carol were.

The photo spoke of simpler times. Times when girls wore prom gowns with necklines up to their chins and guys rented white dinner jackets from Cohen Brothers in Pittston for three dollars, two of which was refunded when you brought the jacket back.

The photo is just a snapshot, taken in Carol Orth’s house, if Sheila’s memory serves. “It’s hard to tell,” Sheila said, “we all had wallpaper back then.”

In the photo, on the wallpaper behind Carol’s head, hangs a small picture of Jesus. When I pointed it out to Sheila she said she wasn’t surprised. “They were a very religious family,” she said.

I found it interesting that Jesus seemed to be watching over Carol. I’m sure He did so all her life. So, I guess my fan club had not one member, but two.

That second member was probably more moved than I watching John lovingly stroke Carol’s hair Friday night as she lay in her coffin. He must enjoy knowing that some people really mean it when they say “’til death do us part.”

About the Author

Ed Ackerman is the editor of the Pittston Sunday Dispatch. He can be reached at 602-0175.

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