The 50th reunion of the Westby High School class of 1962 is now history. In five years those of us who are still above ground will gather again and visit together. From here on out, our reunions will be more of a celebration of life. If I’m still kickin’, rockin’, and writin’ when the next reunion rolls around, I’ll be 73, the same age as my mother when she died. The average age of my four grandparents was 69. Uff da!
We found that confronting your mortality is part of reaching a 50th class reunion. Ten of our 79 classmates didn’t make it. We remembered them at the beginning of the evening by lighting a candle for each of them as their name was read.
38 of us did show up out of the remaining 69 class members. It was nice to see everyone and there were only a couple of people that I wouldn’t have recognized if we had met on the street. Let’s face it; we all change physically after 50 years. As anyone who has attended a 50th reunion knows, it’s nice to reach this stage of life because no one tries to put on airs or tries to be something they aren’t. We are who we are. As one classmate said, “Maybe because we are all older and basically in the same boat, we are pretty much at peace with who we are and where we are, so we can let down and just appreciate each other more.”
That sentiment was very evident during the evening as we talked, laughed, and enjoyed catching up on what everyone was doing. At this stage, that included telling about grandchildren and, in several cases, great grandchildren.
I had only attended three other reunions. Lets just say that high school was not the high point of my life. I never felt like I belonged. Looking back, it was my own fault. I was very shy and lacked confidence at that point in my life. The thought of getting up in front of a class and speaking shot fear into my heart and weakened my knees. I envied those classmates who seemed to have all the qualities I felt I lacked. The wisdom of years has taught me that I was not alone.
I’ve discovered over the years that many of my fellow students had the same insecurities that I had at that age. Now that we’re older, we even dare to admit that high school was a difficult time. Several of us talked about that during the reunion.
When some of my classmates found out that I write a weekly newspaper column and have several books, one said, “You must have been paying attention in English class.” I said that I thought I had until I came across an old report card one day. Miss Schoville gave me a C in English. I wonder if that had anything to do with that unflattering picture of a teacher that she always accused me of drawing? Probably not. Looking back, my high school years are like a photo that’s out of focus or underdeveloped. I know it’s there but nothing stands out.
I mentioned that while going through my senior annual to refresh my memory before the reunion, I came across a picture of the student council. I was surprised to see myself in the photo. I don’t even remember being on the council. If there was an election, I couldn’t imagine anyone voting for me back then. Its no wonder so many people never attend a high school reunion. They felt like they were on the outside looking in during high school, and those feelings are hard to shake.
But now it’s been 50 years and a lot of water has tumbled over the rocks and traveled on down the stream. Many of us have even managed to break out of the shell we were trapped in during our high school years. What a different experience we could have had if we had been able to crack that shell open while we were still in school. This guy who used to be terrified to speak in front of his high school class, now enjoys public speaking and has given numerous speeches and presentations over the years. If you’ve had the same fear, take heart, it can be confronted and conquered.
Several of us marveled that we’re still alive when looking back on some of the foolhardy things teenagers do when they think they’re immortal. We remembered the time when four of us were heading back to Westby on a country road one evening. The driver admitted that he was doing close to 90 miles an hour when we came over the crest of a hill with a slight curve at the bottom. The car went airborne and began fishtailing when it landed. My friend managed to bring the car under control. If he had lost control we’d have rolled and flipped several times. There were no seatbelts in that car in ’62. I think four more candles would have been lit at the reunion if we had crashed.
That was the summer of ’62. We had survived high school and were ready to take the next step on the ladder of life. Some of us wouldn’t see each other again for 50 years. It was nice to renew those old friendships. We’ll keep climbing that ladder together.
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