Rick and I hosted our 61st high school class reunion a few days ago. Just thinking about the number of years blows our minds. Our class held their first reunion a few years after graduation because one of our good friends died of cancer. We all decided that we wanted to spend time together before anyone else passed. Our class president and a few others got together and started finding people. We have held class reunions every year for decades. Most of us have known one another since kindergarten or early grade school days. Others came later (handsome Rick Rivers arrived in fifth grade). Still others in high school when Dublin students were bused to Pleasanton.
Pleasanton has since grown from a small rural town of 2500 to over 70,000. Gone are the floriculture acres of Jackson-Perkins roses, the pastures with grazing dairy cows and dairies (a gallon of milk for 70 cents), the layer and poultry farms (a dozen eggs for 50-60 cents). Backyards were big enough to plant vegetable gardens and give kids space to run and play. Doors were left unlocked, kids on bikes free to roam. Summers were spent exploring and swimming at the high school pool (25 cents admission).
We all reminisce on a yearly basis, laughing over mischief making, grieving the lost (first Ronnie killed in Vietnam, last year, Linda to a heart attack). Friends lost but not forgotten. What’s new? We want to know. We talk about our families, children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren while sixties golden oldies play in the background. We talk about travels. One hearty couple has been to Machu-Picchu three times. Another continues education, excited about working on another master’s degree. Another, our Renaissance man, is like a walking Encyclopedia; still learning and collecting books (10,000 at the last count). Politics and religion are touched upon but not cause for argument. And no, we don’t all agree. But we love and respect one another.
Some drove from as far away as Wyoming. Others are scattered around the Bay Area and Central Valley. A few are still in Pleasanton. Some of us are struggling with health and mobility issues, loss of vision and hearing and can’t make it on our own. There’s always someone offering to carpool. Friendship is precious, something to cherish, something to continue nurturing. We used to start at noon and go until “the cows went home” or later. Now we start at noon and end at four… or five…talking, still talking.
Only one person, the wife of one of our classmates, had a cellphone out and she was graciously taking pictures that we could share.
The Brownie song played in my mind. “Make new friends but keep the old. One is silver, the other’s gold.”
Oh, so true.