I traveled all the way to Illinois for my 50th high school class reunion because that’s what you do. I attended the 25th, so the 50th would come next in succession. Will I attend the 75th? OK, sure, why not?
An introvert like me can survive a class reunion only if there is a core of comfort friends to carry us through, friends who remember your dad and mother and brother and sister, where you lived, that you were a tomboy, and were prone toward mischief. Eight such friends, along with some spouses, delighted in an afternoon soiree.
Say hi to our hosts, Ruth and John.
Classmates JohnP, ColemanL, DaveP, JeanieU, KenW, DonG, and RuthW
More than “the class of 1963,” we share roots of faith, experience, friendship, and tradition. I’m right at home with these folks, though many years of life separate us.
Four of us—Kenny, Jeanie, Sharon, Coleman—go back all the way to elementary school, pictured here in Miss Riley’s Holmes School fifth grade class. Who’s that twerp so properly seated front/left?
Can you find the others?
So here’s a story:
Dave and Jeanie were reminiscing their high school days. Jeanie says “I didn’t date because no boys ever asked me out.” Dave, bewildered, says, “Sounds like my date with you didn’t leave much of an impression.”
Jeanie, chagrined, asks where he took her. Turns out it was even the kind of date where the boy shows up with a corsage. One of those church-substitute-for-prom-because-good-Christians-don’t-dance banquets.
Dave’s wife, Linda, finds this revelation most entertaining.
And Dave plays it up by “remembering” what color dress Jeanie wore on their unmemorable date, even describing the detail of her corsage.
I’m pretty sure she will not forget again.
So while we’re embarrassing Jeanie, here’s a little series to close this post.
We go way, way back.
You’re a good sport, my friend.