The best I have been able to come up with to describe it is like I stepped into a time machine as an 18-year-old, and when I stepped out of it, 50 years later, everyone had aged. But not me, of course, because I had been in the time machine.
The committee that organized the reunion did a terrific job, which I will talk more about later. One of the things they did was to create name tags for each participant that had a photo of us from 50 years ago---the photo in our High School Annual.
This was helpful to me because after I exited the time machine I had to look at people's 50-year-old photos to see who it was I was talking to.
And then, the awful realization. Everybody was also looking at my name tag. Had they, too, just stepped out of a time machine? Had to be, because I know I haven't changed.
Fifty years is a really long time. But it doesn't seem like it. The reason it doesn't seem like it is that we did not evolve to retain memories of the past, except as fleeting glimpses. Otherwise, our brains would fill up and overflow at about age 25. And we would stand motionless reviewing 25 years worth of memories while a saber tooth tiger ate us.
So, we forget.
But when you really force yourself to think about it, time can stretch. Take a day and do nothing but contemplate the moment, and watch time pass fairly slowly. Now, realize that there have been over 18,000 days like this since I last saw these folks.
I taught countless hours in my job, but can't remember a single one of my classes from start to finish. Only snatches. I watched my children grow for 18+ years, and can remember dozens or hundreds of episodes, but add them all up and it won't account for a single day's worth of time.
I'm going to remember this on my death bed---my life was actually a lot longer than my brain can remember it was. Maybe it will be a small solace.
My friend David sent me something he recently read: "Getting old is not a stroll but an ambush."
And while time takes its toll on our bodies, and I know firsthand that it has with mine, for the people at my high school reunion you could tell that it has not taken a toll on their spirits. The people there were just like they were 50 years ago. Upbeat, pleasant, and basically happy.
And you know that life has beaten each of them around some. But they are there. Still smiling and joking like I remember them.
Their personalities much more like they were 50 years ago than our bodies are. Isn't that nice?
And then there are the 20% who have died. That's what the statistics show. The organizing committee had done a nice of job of providing a photo of each classmate who had died, and a memorial service that Vicky and I attended.
So many of them, gone. So many I remember so well. Still young in my memory. Still smiling and laughing. Still full of hope.
The first night's activities were at Club Tico, which we referred to when we were in high school as just "Tico."
Tico was a club that was begun by students in 1948 who raised money to create a place where teens could meet and dance. It was held in a building at City Park. There was a nice, large dance floor, pool tables, and a small concession stand.
People went there every weekend, Friday and Saturday. It was something we took for granted, but shouldn't have. We didn't know we shouldn't have because it was always there.....kind of like your parents are, and what adolescent doesn't take his/her parents for granted?
It only stayed viable for seven more years after I graduated. The reasons for no longer having Tico are vague. I read a newspaper article about it, but there didn't seem to be any good reason that it ended.........some 43 years ago.
Did the city just decide it wasn't worth it? Did the schools decide it wasn't worth it? Was there no adult to sponsor it? We had an adult who did--Doyle Sorrell--who all of the students loved. Maybe there were no longer any Doyle Sorrells around. We took him for granted too, which now I regret.
My band, the Pryde (yes, like the Pride of Lions) played there Friday and Saturday nights my senior year.
For our reunion, a different band that had played in High School re-formed and played. First time they had been together since high school, and they sounded really good.
What fun, huh?
Vicky and I even got to dance some. Very special to dance, once again, 50 years later, at Tico.
The second night was at a ballroom at Colorado State University. A fine dinner, a fine time, and a fine slide presentation. Lots of time to talk.
I saw a lot of high school and junior high school friends. What I became aware of is that I knew a lot of people, and did things with a lot of people, and so did everyone else. It was really cool to see a lot of them.
And mostly it was the boys who I remember. Only a few girls. Not surprising since I spent my time with the boys. But still it was a realization that mostly who I talked with and knew in high school were the boys.
There were a few boys, in particular, who seeing again was mind boggling, and really wonderful. In no particular order, they would be Dennis Proctor, Keith Furones, Arden Kirkpatrick, Jim Campain, and Norris Chase.
All have turned out to be fine men. I hope I can include myself this way too.
There was one girl, in particular, who I wanted to see--Carol Steele. She was the daughter of Merrill Steele who I worked for at his grocery story all through high school. That work experience, and family, meant a lot to me. The other girl I would like to have seen was my friend Claudia Wall, but she died at age 50.
I didn't get enough photos. Everything was happening too quickly.
Me and Keith:
Dennis across the table (gray hair).
Our old high school, now a performing arts center for Colorado State University. Kathy (who also went to FCHS) and I are sitting outside of it:
I wasn't sure I wanted to go to this reunion. 50 years since I have seen people is a very long time. I decided that I both wanted to go and wanted to not miss it. It's not like I could change my mind and go next year or something.
I'm glad I did. It was very powerful in ways I have not yet been able to fully understand. I am happy for the people I saw there who looked happy, after all of these years. Children, grandchildren, victories, and losses. We have all had them all.
Regardless of everything else, we have that in common--sometimes we got the bear and sometimes the bear got us. But we are still here trying. And for two nights, all of us laughing and hugging.
It's not our 1966 choir singing, but we sang these two odes to FCHS 50 years ago in the A Capella Choir:
Hail to thee Fort Collins High School.
Travel the Lambkin Way.
And those of us who are left sang them once again at the Memorial service this weekend.
It has been 50 years since I sang "Travel the Lambkin Way" as a member of the choir. It is our school treasure of a song. I finished it with tears in my eyes, being thrown back 50 years in my life, and knowing I would never sing it again with my classmates.
No comments:
Post a Comment