The 70th reunion

My dad is from Pennsylvania, brought to Texas with the advent of his military service. My mother, Texas born and bred, was not about to move North, so they settled in her hometown. That did not stop the steady progression of our summer visits every 3-5 years back to his home.

I have sketchy memories of most of those visits. One set of cousins lived on a farm; I have no recollection whatsoever of visiting the other set who were still in PA. I know I was confused to see my grandmother's headstone with my grandfather's name ascribed beside it. Wasn't he still alive? The absence of dates must have escaped my elementary self. I remember meeting my father's mother's parents. They had an outhouse and my great-grandfather did not believe all that outer space and astronaut nonsense. They were merely filming it somewhere. My great-grandmother, blind and wheelchair-bound as she was a double amputee due to diabetes, told me the family genealogy. I scrawled it on a piece of lined notebook paper and later transferred it into a Bible.

But what I remember most was Daddy's five-year treks to his high school reunions. One in particular stands out, in a hotel dining room, and I have the idea that it was painted 50s green. There was an award for the grad who had traveled farthest--Daddy won--and the one with the most children. I don't remember the number, but her "award" was an apron which stated "I should have danced all night." I still find that clever.

A few days ago I received a letter from one of Daddy's classmates informing me, in a legible 89-year-old scrawl, that their 70th high school reunion was coming up. Of the 92 grads, 35 were still alive at her last count and she wanted to know about Daddy. She even remembered my sister and me at that early reunion.

I've written her back, telling her that Daddy is here in body, if not mind.

But, think about it. Seventy years, the first ones of which would have embroiled the young men in a war, and one-third of the class is still alive? I wonder if I'll be writing legible notes for my 70th, or if I'll even see it. And if I do, will I know anyone?

Memory Monday: Daddy's 69th high school reunion

I received (well, Daddy received) a letter from a high school classmate of his last week. It seems she had recently attended their 69th high school reunion. I gather from the odd-year designation that they're meeting more often than the obligatory 5 or 10 year variety of reunion. She included notes about mutual acquaintances and reported that of the 86 members of the 1940 Everett PA graduating class, 31 were still alive.

I remember going to a couple of these reunions. As Daddy usually picked up the "farthest away" prize, we would accompany him to the dinners. The one which left the most vivid impression would have been his 20th. I was in upper elementary, certainly old enough to behave myself and take it all in. It was held at a hotel in a green dining room. Don't remember the meal, but I was so amused by one of the gag prizes. The woman with the most children got an apron with the saying: "I should have danced all night."

The rest of the time would have been spent visiting family and buying my sister and myself more yarn to knit and crochet in the back seat of the un-airconditioned red Studebaker station wagon. That was probably the trip where my aunt and my mother exchanged witticisms and my aunt got the better of Mother by shipping via train the black tom cat she had so admired from afar.

In order to keep him (or so the lore goes), we had to let Daddy name this long-haired ball of fury. Daddy is colorblind. The cat's name: Snowball.

Memory Monday on Tuesday: Reunions

We never went to family reunions. Either my mother didn't want to see any of the family she had (she did stay close with local cousins) or there simply weren't any. I, in turn, married into a family which greatly enjoys them.

But that's not the kind of reunions I wish to talk about. We attended my 40th high school reunion this past weekend. Forty years. Most of these people I hadn't seen since our 20th, some not since the 10th or high school graduation. We hadn't had a reunion in the intervening years.

It was fun to see and hear how people were doing, to realize that without the name tag and the senior annual photo pinned to each chest, I wouldn't have had a clue who most of them were. Certainly not the guys. The gals, and this was a universal gal-opinion, had all held up much better than our male compatriots. The girls I had a better chance of recognizing cold.

All sorts of promises were made, to get on facebook and keep in touch through email. We'll see. We really should try for a 45th, as our numbers are thinning, and 10% are already deceased.

I finally figured out that there were few surprises. People had done just about what you expected of them both in the career and personality (can't think of one who'd changed) departments. So, I guess we really can't outrun ourselves.