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It was time to party, either with your new spouse or an old special friend:
— Like many others at the time, a couple named Joe and Jeralyn celebrated New year’s Eve at the turn of the Millenium by getting married, in the back of the cafe area of Dibbo’s, no less. They then had their romantic dances on the adjacent dance floor that was overflowing with other couples, while the rock band that was on for the evening toned it down for a few ballads. Soon after, confetti and other paper flew, and by the end of the night/morning there was so much party-prompted stuff around the cocktail tables that you could barely find the dance floor.
— In a touching tribute, an elderly women came out by herself that night to the chaos that was Dibbo’s to see a decades-younger friend in the band, which was from the Minneapolis area. For years, she had traveled a long distance to Hudson whenever that band played here so they could hook up between sets, and would never miss such a gig for any reason, although never taking in bands other than the one with her companion. She stuck to herself at a table next to the sound booth, listening quietly, and even broke from her normal schedule and stayed out until the sun came up.
— That turn of the Millenium was the first time I’d ever stayed out all night for New Year’s, since my newspaper editors decided that if the world did indeed end, they wanted it documented, although I don’t know who would be around to read about it. So I drew the reporting assignment of staying out until morning, basically on the clock, to see what I could see. Not a bad gig to have, even though I didn’t get to have my first beer until 4 a.m. So what did I find? The most interesting it got, from a doomsday perspective, was that lots of people out in the townships were shooting off lots of quasi-illegal, high-powered fireworks.
— That night also marked the first time I had photographed my friend and occasional Calvin Klein model Debbie, posing in her little black dress with my practicing psychic buddy Joe, on the back landing of Dibbo’s, (I hope their spouses didn’t mind). I needed one last shot to fill out my photo feature, and I got it with the help of then-21-year-old Evea, and that sprouted a friendship that has lasted until now, when in her thirties, like Debbie was, she also is pursuing
some modeling jobs.

 

 

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