After the Hunt (whew!): To the Class of ’75
Cupid’s Hunt was a blast! What turns I have taken since then!
Because of ‘the hunt’, I bought books about podcasting, WordPress and blogging; and started a music blog that has spawned two domains: one for music and one for nursing education (putting my master’s degree to use, I guess). I’d been planning to rearrange my entertainment center to make the receiver and the turntable (and the wiring) a little more accessible. Done! I needed a new needle for the turntable I used for converting vinyl to mp3 (which I hadn’t done in almost three years). It’s on its way via FedEx. Done! I shouldn’t blame podcasting and CH for my having replaced my bedroom carpet with wood; but, the room does look (and feel) better now, and I wasn’t going to be able to push that entertainment center around (and rearrange and rewire the components) on a carpet. Done!
Most important, however, is that this whole adventure, that started with one of those Facebook “add friend” messages, was the result of a reunion.
We tread lightly around reunions. Ask a group of friends about their high school reunions, and you’ll get as many moans and groans as smiles and grins. Most of the stories they tell will be variations of what happens when you see someone you didn’t want to see. I attended my last class reunion, the 30-year bash, almost five years ago. For many reasons, I almost sat it out. But, Greg wanted to see his family; so off we flew to my 30-year reunion and his play date with his brothers.
If I had any doubts about attending that reunion, two meetings made it well worth the trip. The first was with a California-based attorney whose father served as the attorney for our local NAACP chapter in the early ‘60s and helped integrate the school his children attended. That couldn’t have made the father very popular in his own neighborhood, but it made him kind of a hero in ours; and the son didn’t know about it until I told him at the 20-year reunion. I still get kind of teary remembering the son thanking me at the 30-year for telling him about his dad. They’d managed to have a conversation before the father passed, and talk about the times that were a-changin’.
The other meeting was with Woody. I hadn’t seen him or heard about him since the ‘80s. He was a wrestler in high school. Loud and fun, like the men in my family, he was part of a group of friends who’d show up at my library job about 30 minutes before quittin’ time and “study” until I got off. Then, we’d take off in his car to Buxton’s (ice cream shop) with Rufus, B.T. Express or Elton John (I still can’t hear Bennie & the Jets without thinking of Woody) booming from the speakers. I’d lost track of Woody; and I’d lost track of people who would know his whereabouts. We’d lost many from our class. That night, I was just glad to see he was still alive. Let’s get the party started! We were up all night; like prom night without the parents waiting to pounce when you finally did get in.
The next morning, Woody, John, Greg and I sat down around 9am for a quick brunch. The mimosas and the memories started flowing; and before I knew it, we were drinking our ‘breakfast’ mimosas at 6pm, and were long overdue for ‘’getting out of here before sundown”. Greg and I had to get on the road and find his brother’s house on New Jersey roads that I no longer knew. John and Woody had to head out as well. But, it was a great brunch. Thirty years isn’t really a long time among friends. Good friends are forever; 30 years can melt away with the first laugh, or with the first glass raised…
…which brings me to another Class of ’75-er. I’ve known him since we were 11, when we attended the same summer camp and my brother was his counselor. I ran into him again at one of my brother’s basketball games two years later, when they attended the same school; and a year after that, at a basement blue-light birthday party (Whatever happened to those?). We’d always been friends, and sometimes more; but nearly 30 years had passed when, during some downtime one night a work, I spotted a certain “add friend” message that had been sitting in my cell phone for two days.
So, I sit here now, nearly 35 years after graduation day knowing that reunions aren’t about staying home to avoid people you didn’t want to see. They are about getting out to rejoice that those you really cared about (and haven’t heard from in years) are still out there doing some damage.
I’ve got some champagne left over from our anniversary and Valentine’s Day. We lost the cork last night; so, I need to do something with this stuff before it goes flat. I bought some orange juice this morning; and, I have tonight off. I’m pulling out some 1974-75 vinyl, and I’m planning to do some damage of my own.
Look for some Class of ’75 mixes. I’m not sure how many I’ll post; but, it was a good year for music. Those who know me will probably be wondering why I haven’t mentioned much of those Jackson boys. The answer: I’m still in mourning…and I haven’t gotten that needle yet.
To sons who weren’t too late finding out their daddies were heroes and to daughters who were; to old cars with new speakers; to ice cream shops and bakeries that haven’t become auto parts stores; and, to old and good friends who are still making enough noise for those who can’t anymore; I’ve got half a magnum of champagne and a half-gallon of orange juice to raise to you all.
To Todd…I’m glad I typed “add” into my little cell-phone. Look what you started.
And to John and Woody…I’ve got my bail money…right here.
The Night Nurse
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