Write Again … Alma mater calls

Published 3:20 pm Friday, October 6, 2017

Ten years ago, the Washington High School Class of ’57 observed and celebrated its 50th anniversary.

A small number of we class members put a lot of work — a lot — into the planning of this multi-event weekend. We did it with joy. This reunion was truly a special gathering of old friends, and their spouses, and attendees carried home with them a booklet with information and thoughts shared by class members, photos, and, more important, sweet memories.

There was, also, a sense of sadness, as we, each in our own way, remembered those class members who had crossed the river.

And then, five years later, we held another gathering. It was a one-night, one-event occasion. A more subdued affair, we enjoyed it, nevertheless. There were fewer of us in attendance, and more who had completed their journey. The natural order of things.

Early next month we’ll come together again. The 60th. Hard to comprehend.

Once again it will be a one-event occasion. There will be fewer taking part, of course. Health considerations, travel difficulties, will account for some not being able to come, and the stark reality that 45 class members have now received their final promotions. Out of a graduating class of 111, that’s a sobering fact. It’s life. And yes, it’s sad.

So. With — to be honest — mixed emotions, I look toward this last call for the WHS Class of ’57. We’ll share memories, laugh a lot, embellish a bit, and quite probably head home a lot earlier than we would have not so very many years ago. That’s just the way of it.

In time — not our time, though — I look toward what I hope will be our best reunion of all, when once again, for the first time since we walked across that old stage at John Small School, received our diplomas, and stepped into the future, we’ll all be together again.

Now, isn’t that a beautiful hope to have?

The best reunion of all.

APROPOS — “And though we are not now the strength which in the old days moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are — made weak by time and fate, but strong in will to strive, to seek, to find and not to yield.”

— Tennyson