'Tis the Reunion Season

Visiting with a friend recently who commented that she has never attended any of her high school class reunions. “I never liked any of those people so why would I go see them now!” she told me. Well, it is America and we don’t have to uncomfortably attend any event just because it is happening. In my opinion, though one might consider going and you might just find out how people have changed as they matured in life and suddenly you have new/old friends.

You dear reader may know that your old columnist is voluntarily the organizer for my high school class, MHS class of ’55 reunion. My team of local volunteers put together the venue, set up reservations in a local motel, plan events to attend, send invitations, set up a banquet, arrange for a float to ride through the Heritage Days parade, those kinds of things. It is a labor of love and we truly want to see any and all that can make it. Incidentally, Runzas (Rushin Rolls) are on the menu this year in honor of the original German Heritage Days of McCook.

It is a curious thing in that it seems most who attend reunions come from far and wide. Somehow it is the locals who shy away. Is it because those who stay local to make their life after graduation feel a bit inferior to those who have ventured into the world to make their mark on life? Honestly, that is a misperception because no one really cares one way or the other. We just want to renew old friendships and catch up on how you have made your way in the world in the short time we are allotted to live on this earth.

When we were children and sent off to school we were thrown together with a diverse group of other children with only one common denominator and that being age within a year or so. We came from diverse backgrounds of religion, ethnicity, and skin color reflecting the community we lived in. Sometimes not a lot in common. We then spent twelve or so years together all being taught by the same teachers, all dictated a common curriculum, all expected to behave in a civilized manner. Then at graduation, we were patted on the back (high up) and sent into the world to make our own way. Independence, marriage, college and further training for some who so chose, maybe into the military, and all of us earning a job to make our way in life.

So you see it is a great and satisfying experience to sit down with one who shared the same experiences in school and find how they made their way in life. People seem to like to talk about themselves so get them to talking about their children, grandchildren and in the case of our age range great-grandchildren. Then they will talk about the jobs they did in life, the places they’ve lived and where they live now and what they do for fun. Living local where we went to school together or in far-flung destinations worldwide. What my friends have done after our common start together is of great interest to this old guy. I just love people.

This past weekend Grannie Annie’s class had a mini-reunion But they didn’t call it that. Instead, they celebrated together as their 80th birthday party. Birthday cake and all. Mind you Grannie isn’t 80 yet just proudly 791/2. For this older guy, it was fun hanging out with the younger crowd. Good people. A good time celebrating together.

And yes school reunions are full of surprises. The girls that we thought so popular and were afraid to ask for a date sometimes fade and don’t appear so exciting as they have aged. Then too, ones we overlooked bloomed in life and are now the ones most successful and happy. I’m sure it works the same for the gals as they learn that Joe Athlete later spent a little time in prison or that the bashful nerd is now the multi-millionaire or world-famous architect.

Then too we pause to remember those whose lives have already ended. In my own class now some 63 years gone by since graduation my best count shows 123 in the class and about a third, 42 deceased. Not bad for an average age near 81 years and yes we miss them.

Reviewing my over the years’ experience with class reunions the old guy has a few wry observations. The 10-year reunion was the tough one as most proudly drove their shiny new expensive cars to mark their success. Conversations tended to braggadocio and oh did we wear fancy clothes. Then at 20 years cars and other badges of success weren’t so important and clothing was more comfortable—same for 30, 40 and 50 plus the fives in-between. By then we were just glad to see each other and celebrate being alive. Probably for our 63rd this year, we decided to not wait five years as too many are dying, our most stressful activity will be sitting around relaxing in the big meeting room and relating medical procedures and our aches and pains.

That is the way I saw it.

Dick Trail