Ghosts of the Past:
The return address on the envelope caught my attention: "1958 Class Reunion". And sure enough somehow someone found out my current address and sent me an invitation to our 50th High School Class reunion. Since I have never been to any previous reunion I wondered how did they ever find me? Nor have I had any communication with these former classmates. I have never been big on reunions, not high school, not college, not family---in fact it is never wise to bet I will attend most anything involving hours and hours of shallow chit-chat. It must be some sort of genetic deficiency on my part. I think if this affair were within driving distance for a day I might go, just to gawk. But it is over 900 miles away. There were 40 some odd classmates for whom they were still trying to find a current address. One was Charles Merritt. That is strange, he never graduated and a few years later was killed in a car crash. As a young teenager he and I were friends. I don't know why, we had nothing in common. Maybe that is why my dad would drive me over to the 'wrong' side of town to spend the day with Charlie---to prove you can be friends even if you have little in common. Others might suggest my dad was just taking me as far away as possible for the day---or even worse hope some young ruffian would beat the hell out of me. I doubt the latter.
Two names on the list stood out from the rest. No sense trying to locate these two, you can be sure the last thing they would do is attend this class reunion. They were two of the ugliest girls in the school and no one ever talked with them. No guy would ever talk with them for fear of endless teasing. Of course it was considered good fun to tease your friends about either one of them being their girlfriend. Even the other girls didn't talk to these ugly ducklings, I guess for fear their own reputation would suffer. Years later, with a bit more maturity, I looked back on all this with sympathetic horror. They must have hated to come to school. It must have been unbearable. HOWEVER, I noticed from the way their names were listed they both were married. It would be the best of justice if these were the happiest marriages in the class. The truth is, probably 9 out of 10 people are not really all that sexy, and never were. I am with the 9 out of ten and am blessed with a really effective birth control method-----------------------my personality.
I managed to dredge up my 1958 Class yearbook. I remembered a good number of them from the class pictures, but the truth is I lived out of town, was bused in, jumped on the school bus right after school, so my close friends pretty much lived in my neighborhood and all of them were either a year older or a year or two younger, so they were not in my class. As I paged through the yearbook I noticed I was nowhere in the class "Hall of Fame". Not a Leader in Industry; or Stars on the Dance floor; or MVP Champions; or Brain Power; or First in Popularity; or Fashion Leaders; or Masters of the Art; or Destined for Success; or Mr. and Mrs. America; or Court Jesters; or Oscar Winers. Nope. Nowhere to be found. Then I got to the Activities Section. There I was amazed to find myself in a picture of the Student Council. Student Council? I am pretty sure that would be an elective post. If I ever was on the Student Council it brings absolutely no recollection to my mind. Then there I was pictured in the Key Club, described as the 'leading boys' club of the school. Draw a blank about any participation in that organization either. Suddenly I remembered how I ended up in these two organizations. For the first three years of high school I was just there, no one bothered me, I didn't bother anyone, and I pretty much came and went unnoticed. You might say I hardly knew which end was up, quiet as a mouse in school albeit over-spirited in my rural neighborhood enclave.
The class I hated most was gym class. The only sports we played in my neighborhood were baseball, football, and hockey. That was it. Period. In gym class there was basketball, soccer, wrestling, and I forget the other stuff. I especially hated wrestling. It might have been one thing if you could just go at it till the other couldn't get up. But there were all these rules and techniques that were really foreign to me. So I would just play Jack be Nimble, Jack be Quick and avoid letting my opponent grab onto me. The gym teacher, Mr. Bonelli, hated me. And vice-versa. In soccer if anyone kicked the ball to me I would just kick the ball as hard as I could way up into the air so it would go out of bounds. That way no one would kick the ball to me. In basketball I would just run up and down the court always looking off into the stands so no one would even think of throwing the damn ball to me. Bonelli would always scream, "Throw the Ball to R_____, throw the ball to R______. " But they couldn't because I would never look their way. Hell, I didn't even know how to dribble the ball, let alone make any basket. Bonelli hated me most because for most gym periods I would have a pass to my English teacher's room, Mrs. Swanson---who had a free period then. She and I would talk about everything under the sun. I think she liked me because I had a lot of off the wall ideas. Nothing much has changed there. At some point Bonelli complained to the principal and my pass privileges were revoked. I can still see the smirk on Bonelli's face.
Then a miracle happened. The track and crosscountry coach was in the gym watching guys run up and down the basketball court; as I darted to the locker rm at the end of the period he pulled me aside and told me I should come out for track and crosscountry. I was a junior at the time. I ignored him but finally agreed when he said he would drive me home after practice. Gas was probably 25 cents a gallon back then. I told him the only thing I was willing to run was the 100 yd dash. What the hell, I could out run anyone in my neighborhood. Well, there were 3 blk kids who could outrun me in the 100 yd dash. So I never even got into a meet. The coach then got me to agree to try crosscountry since the course was right up behind my house and ran through all these woods. By this time I was a senior. I practiced with the team and ran in the races, but for the first three races I got a stitch in my side and just stopped. The fourth race I didn't get a stitch in my side so kept on running and set the course record.
The next day I was sitting as usual 'non persona' in my homeroom seat when the Principle was reading the announcements for the day. He congratulated me on setting the course record in the race the day before. The whole rest of the class stared at me---"R_____ set a record?" Most everyone else in the school wondered, "Who the hell is R_____"? And just like that other jocks and 'kids of importance' started saying hello to me in the hallway. Absolutely nothing else about me changed but suddenly (I guess) I would get elected to the Student Council and Key Club. I doubt I ever went to any meetings and suspect my mother forced me to show up for the picture sessions. So there you have it, I am in the year book as a Student 'of importance', a sudden leader. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Genetics gave two girls a face that no one would talk to and genetics gave me the ability to run a long time better than anyone else in the school. If someone else had been given a better set of genes for running I would never have been on the Student Council or the Key Club or gotten such a big scholarship to college. I guess I chose the right parents or God directed the right sperm to the right egg.
Recently Congress passed a law that prevents any genetic testing knowledge to be used to not hire or to fire anyone from a job or stop them from getting health insurance coverage. Interesting. On the other hand genetics can be used to pass on to offspring large sums of money which they in no way earned. This is a strange world. In the late 1800's, in order to break up the Rockafeller, Vanderbuilt and other such family monstrous estates, real severe inheritance taxes were set up. Today, in our more elevated wisdom, all these inheritance taxes have been, or are being, eliminated. Thus, Bill Gates Junior can inherit wealth that is greater than the financial wealth of the bottom 25 countries on the earth without himself earning a penny of that money. All this wealth rapidly accumulating in the hands of a few has to come from someone. I wonder who the someone's are? Maybe those forced to work two jobs, those losing their pensions, those losing health insurance, etc. Crazy world.
But, as much a stranger as I am to those classmates of 50 years ago, they and I are all kindred spirits of times past; times which were simpler, times in which we at least felt safe, when jobs tended to be more secure, health care more limited but available to all, we had more overt prejudices but less hatred, and while daily life was more trite and boring, we all were forced to think more, to create our own amusement----while neighborhoods were bustling with interactions, Mother Nature had yet to start bearing down on us with a vengeance, and humor was I Love Lucy, Abott and Costello, and Jackie Gleason. Times are more advanced now, more complicated, and filled with mindless babble on cell phones, reality sought on TV shows, and electronic amusements pegged to the mindset of giddy-brained goofiness. I can financially afford to go back to this 50th reunion, I have the time to go back, but why pretend---you can never go home again.
Goodnight, ghosts of the past, wherever you are.
