"What am I doing here?," I asked myself as I crossed the street to the high school reunion. After 35 years, I had decided to participate. No backing out. Bev and I were all dressed up and the money had been paid. I had even helped with decorations. Many of my classmates had been in touch with me through Facebook for the past few months. The prospect had held excitement for a time, but now I wasn't so sure. I went on inside. Was it what I expected? No. What did I expect? The hall was filled with so many strangers who were yet familiar. Many of them had changed so much it required a look at a name badge. Others hardly seemed to have changed at all. The young people from 1974 had become a collection of polite middle aged folks. Sometimes, in conversation with someone, a glimpse of the former self came through. It could be a facial expression or just the inflection in a voice. These familiar strangers were gracious, elegant, friendly, warm, welcoming, and charming. These good folks I shared and share a place and time with.
Back in 74, for better or worse, we contributed to the tapestry of Sylacauga High School. Some enjoyed their role then, others not so much. Now we had all moved into the bigger tapestries of our families, our jobs, our missions and our communities. We had been the establishment and now were moving on to what lies ahead and beyond.
Back in 74, for better or worse, we contributed to the tapestry of Sylacauga High School. Some enjoyed their role then, others not so much. Now we had all moved into the bigger tapestries of our families, our jobs, our missions and our communities. We had been the establishment and now were moving on to what lies ahead and beyond.