Yesterday (Saturday), my high school alumni held an “all classes” reunion. Quite a few years ago, my class had a small one that I attended, and I’m aware many of the other classes also have held some. But, this time, they wanted to drag all of us together into a single room.
As a bit of a surprise (for many, I think), we – Class of ’83 – had the biggest turn-out and representation … to the extent that we were able to fully occupy two whole tables at the venue.
In pretty much all cases, it has been forty-one (41) years since many of us have seen each other.
Needless to say, we were all spending time reminiscing and catching up on our lives – as best as possible – since then.
After about three and a half hours at the reunion, we (’83) relocated for more of an after-party. The reunion itself was loud enough that, to a large extent, we could barely hear each other. No, it wasn’t just because we’re getting old and our hearing is going! I’m sure of that!
The after-party continued well into the evening when we finally started breaking apart so everyone could head back to their respective homes or hotel rooms (for the few who traveled specifically to attend).
As may well be expected, we had several members of our class not attending – either because we’ve since fallen out of touch with them or they simply weren’t able to make it. it’s understandable, but unfortunate.
One of those who’s out of touch was my closest “accomplice” (as it were) throughout my four years at high school.
Reminiscing
One thing which struck all of us was the extent to which so much of our high school experience was formed by the circumstances of the school itself.
For the entirety of our time there, we had no permanent building and even borrowed facilities from other schools (most notably being our use of the gymnasium and chemistry labs from a local college – the one I later attended and graduated from). In fact, the building we had was also in active use as a Ukrainian Orthodox Church. The first two floors were the sanctuary and chapel with classrooms on the upper two floors and a basement for the art department and “cafeteria”, laughingly called so because it was just tables to eat at, there was no food service.
We didn’t have lockers, so we needed to haul all of our school supplies (notebooks, textbooks, etc.) with us back and forth from home every day. Yes, we were all able to commiserate about the extent to which our shoulders and backs are still messed up as a result.
We also had a fairly strict dress-code (which amounted to business-wear for everyone – jackets / ties / slacks for boys and skirts / dresses for girls; and no sneakers).
Remember that “no lockers” thing? Yeah, on days when we had gym classes, we also had to haul our gym clothes and sneakers with us. Suddenly the shoulder damage makes even more sense, huh?
The Church was in ACTIVE use
The absolute “best” part, which was something all of us who attended at that building remember, is that the church was, indeed, still being actively used!
So, every now and then, in the middle of changing classes, we’d encounter the security guards positioned in the stairwells (going down from the 3rd floor or up from the basement). They’d be there to caution us, finger raised to their lips,
“Shh! Funeral in progress!”
I think it is probably safe to say we were the only school, perhaps ever, where we had to deal with an active funeral being held in the building in the middle of classes.
To dispel any possible negative thoughts you, reader, might have – we were always very polite and respectful of the circumstances.
What others remember
One thing I was struck by, as I was finally heading home last night, was the extent to which my classmates actually remembered me.
I realize, in retrospect, this is more likely to be a perspective “thing”, but – for myself, aside from a couple of characteristics (I’ll elaborate shortly), I was rather … unremarkable? I was generally quiet and, while not actively anti-social, I was certainly at least a-social. There were reasons for this, but still.
So, there is a bit of a “wow” factor for me, realizing that, for my classmates, I was … distinct? … enough to be …
How to put this…?
… to be worthy of being remembered, perhaps?
My notable characteristics
As is noted in our yearbook, I was the youngest of our class – but I was younger by 2-3 years (depending on when people’s birthdays hit). I had skipped two grades in middle school and, consequently, very much not part of anyone else’s social circles.
I also spent almost every waking minute (even in classes) reading books I carried with me. I still enjoy reading (and read rather voraciously) – as my goodreads profile and “Read” list will attest to. This didn’t prevent me from responding in class since I was able to “multi-task” very well.
At the time, I was almost certainly the only person in the entire school who had my own computer (an Apple ][) with a printer. This was a life-saver (or, perhaps, a grade saver) because my handwriting has always been almost illegible and this was the way best way for me to turn in papers which teachers could actually read!
And then, finally, i was almost definitely the smartest kid in our class. I’m not saying that to brag or “flex”, mind you. Pretty much everyone acknowledged that I was. This did not equate to the best grades, mind you, because in many subjects I just could not be bothered to put in the effort required. But, smartest? Yeah, that was a given.
With joy there is also sadness
Aside from the simple aspect of there being many who didn’t make it to the event, there was also the somewhat sobering reality that our class has already lost a few members – those who’ve passed away. To the best of our (collective) knowledge, that number is relatively small, but it’s not zero.
In some ways, what’s even sadder, though, is – of our teachers, only one remains. She was our gym teacher and she’s still actively at the school (in its current incarnation). But of the rest of those who were the “adults” in our lives, they’re almost all gone.
Thought about reasonably, this, of course, makes perfect sense. After all, they already were adults when we were teenagers, forty-plus years ago. It does make sense, when looked at from a purely “calendar” view, that their time would have passed.
It’s still unfortunate, however.
We’re not done yet!
The alumni have already started tentative planning for another reunion in two more years (in recognition of it being 50 years since the school was first founded). I’m reasonably confident my class will, once again, have a big turn-out, hopefully even bigger next time.
And, no matter, what, those of us who were there have at least somewhat reconnected. Perhaps, some of them are even reading this and looking forward to it as much as I am.
