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High School Reunion Memories
by Ted Magnuson
High School Reunions are pretty popular
in Oregon. In the summer time you can see them taking
place behind placards at hotels, restaurants, brew-pubs,
pizza joints and in parks. If the demand is big enough
some boomer reunions are even booked in the fall.
In fact, these reunions can even disrupt
business. At a conference I was at a while back, at the
Portland Airport Sheraton no less, business was bought
to a stand still by the 40th Reunion of Hillsboro High
(Class of ‘57). They cranked up the PA and the tunes
from the Everly Brothers and Patsy Cline echoed all through
the hotel’s lobby and banquet rooms. Some of the
older conventioneers even left our social to buy drinks
for the Hillsboro Highers.
We had canned music at our own 30 year Groves
Class of 69 reunion at the Troy Marriott too. In addition,
Rosen, Bon Rose (Fine) wrote
special verses to Hey Jude sung by all assembled. There
were streamers, balloons, a really fine momento board,
meatballs, chicken wings, all the women of the homecoming
court together again, a room full of smiling faces and
catching up on various tidbits of news too numerous to
mention here. There was dancing and happy memories. The
next day at the picnic, one could meet children and spouses
of our classmates at their best.
Some people may wonder why the bother about
reunions. Interesting question. Is it an attempt to tie
one’s life altogether? I think so. Whatever anyone
thinks, unlike high school, no one is required to attend
a reunion.
One of the more interesting things I observed
about our reunion was the number of high school sweethearts
who not only married but stayed married. I suppose that
isn’t so unusual, though. My own parents were high
school sweethearts.
People tell me that sometimes teachers attend
these reunions. Since I didn’t attend the tenth or
the twentieth someone else will have fill in that detail.
Still, as I left the 30th reunion, flying high over Detroit,
memories of teachers occupied my thoughts. In particular
I remembered the Spring day after school when Mr. Finney
(US History) and Mrs. Nosanchuk (Algebra II) suggested
I consider a career in teaching.
Ann Nosanchuk pointed out "that being
a teacher was like tending an orchard." Back then
I just laughed and assured her the pun did not go over
my head...since our school is called Groves.
In memory, in the present day how much more
poignant her comment was. We live in a world of specialists:
Still- perhaps under it all we are all grovers; people
who work with trees; We tend, prune, plant, spray and
harvest trees every day. Our trees though are not the
kind that grow apples, pears, cherries or even board feet
of good ol’ cutstock Northwestern lumber. Our trees
are simply thoughts, words, and actions that we are responsible
for.
As I flew back to my home in Oregon then,
it pleased me to think of the whole country, no the whole
world as one big ol’ orchard busy with grovers, each
of them tending, pruning, planting, spraying and harvesting
trees. Could it really be all that simple?
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