Last night was one of the most fun I’ve had in a long time. Our 50 + 1 Reunion was a big success thanks to the committee of ladies who worked so hard to pull it off. They actually planned an event for last summer. Upon the lockdown for COVID, we couldn’t hold the event. This was definitely worth waiting for!

The stately neighborhood surrounding the Field Club Country Club was the home of many of our classmates. It was like going home. That’s critical for us. They deprived us of seeing the building we all spent so many hours learning, loving, and how to get along in life. It’s shocking to see the hills of dirt now leveled out to street level. The city is building a new public high school, and it’s going to be beautiful. Trouble is, we’re kind of out there, drifting.

Until last night. We were hugging, squealing, and just so glad to be together. I loved the feeling the room had. I’m still smiling today. Facebook is where the after party will continue for quite a while. We’re joking back and forth, commenting on funny things like, “No one is arrested,” “We had a retired police sergeant with us, so we were good,” and many others, too many to note.
We were a class who faced some adversity. We were the first class in the United States to graduate with four years of modular scheduling. Many of us graduated early, six months to a year sooner than the formal ceremony. I could have, I had enough credits, but I didn’t know what I was going to do. Some did and were married, some did and started college early.
Another slight was our yearbook was more like a cheap calendar. Rather than include the school newspaper copies as in prior years, we had a small comic book-like yearbook. It was a travesty! Our Principal gathered us as juniors and informed us we would not be “seniors,” but our generic title would be “upper classmen.” We never got to be seniors. Joke is on the Principal; here we are, Seniors at last!! Cannot take that away from us! Finally, we have arrived!
It was the 60s, and we organized a protest. We had lapel buttons made, with the initials “FRS;” which stood for “Future Ryan Senior.” We’ll show them! It made not a bit of difference. We were never seniors until now, but we did express our discontent. I say we resurrect the pin, only it should now mean “Finally. A Ryan Senior!”
Who could have thought in 1970 we’d be who and what we are today? Who could have thought we would feel deeply for long ago friends who have met their God since last we were together? And who would have thought the fun times could come back so quickly, by suggestion.
