Class Reunions - 50 Years Later
I graduated from John Bartram High School in southwest Philadelphia in January of 1958, a mid-term class man. As I recall, there were about a squib over 145 members at graduation time, a really small class for those days. About 40% of the class were African American. Relations between the cultures was fractious.
Fifty years later, about five years ago, we had a re-union at a brand new hotel out by the Philadelphia Airport I converted swamplands once called the " Meadows" and used by the "mob" to dump bodies of "da-boys" that needed disappearing, so they said.
Among those that appeared was ex-wife #1 from a marriage May 25, 1963 that lasted far too long, no kids ( tks God), she remarried to a long time boyhood friend, high-school buddy, ex-Navy Captain, and Bartram baseball maven. I knew him, he knew me, and, at the dinner we got along better than the ex-wife and myonself.
Embarrassingly enough, when my ex, his wife, finally walked up to me to introduce herself, I didn't recognize her. No clue. When we married, she at 21, she descended down from a Harper's magazine cover, or so I thought. A knock-out of the first water, body to match. I had, at the time, met few woman that beautiful.
Flash forward, the woman before me in the re-union? ....I was embarrassed when she introduced me as my ex-wife, " you remember Roger, we slept together for five years!!" ( Jesus! I thought, where was the man hole cover??)
It was never my intention to hurt her, or anyone else I met that night. There were others I couldn't recognize, after all, a half century changes things. One guy, a wall flower in school, a chess club member, grew up, became a combat doctor in Viet Nam and did an open heart surgery during a fire-fight on a guy, no anesthetic while surrounded by Green Berets giving him cover.
I didn't even recognize him from his graduation picture, he had more testosterone than a company of combat soldiers. NOT the same guy.
One of the girls I used to date occasionally, not often, moved to Tucson as I did, bumped into me in the supermarket and never gave me any indication of our relationship in the school in Philly. She had changed her appearance, hair, eyes, dress, children, everything. From time to time, she would say hello, acted friendly, but never a clue. Weird.
Strangest of all, the coordinator for the re-union told me that about 20% of the class did not want to be found. Now, why would so many guys NOT want to be found a half century after graduation?
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Fifty years later, about five years ago, we had a re-union at a brand new hotel out by the Philadelphia Airport I converted swamplands once called the " Meadows" and used by the "mob" to dump bodies of "da-boys" that needed disappearing, so they said.
Among those that appeared was ex-wife #1 from a marriage May 25, 1963 that lasted far too long, no kids ( tks God), she remarried to a long time boyhood friend, high-school buddy, ex-Navy Captain, and Bartram baseball maven. I knew him, he knew me, and, at the dinner we got along better than the ex-wife and myonself.
Embarrassingly enough, when my ex, his wife, finally walked up to me to introduce herself, I didn't recognize her. No clue. When we married, she at 21, she descended down from a Harper's magazine cover, or so I thought. A knock-out of the first water, body to match. I had, at the time, met few woman that beautiful.
Flash forward, the woman before me in the re-union? ....I was embarrassed when she introduced me as my ex-wife, " you remember Roger, we slept together for five years!!" ( Jesus! I thought, where was the man hole cover??)
It was never my intention to hurt her, or anyone else I met that night. There were others I couldn't recognize, after all, a half century changes things. One guy, a wall flower in school, a chess club member, grew up, became a combat doctor in Viet Nam and did an open heart surgery during a fire-fight on a guy, no anesthetic while surrounded by Green Berets giving him cover.
I didn't even recognize him from his graduation picture, he had more testosterone than a company of combat soldiers. NOT the same guy.
One of the girls I used to date occasionally, not often, moved to Tucson as I did, bumped into me in the supermarket and never gave me any indication of our relationship in the school in Philly. She had changed her appearance, hair, eyes, dress, children, everything. From time to time, she would say hello, acted friendly, but never a clue. Weird.
Strangest of all, the coordinator for the re-union told me that about 20% of the class did not want to be found. Now, why would so many guys NOT want to be found a half century after graduation?
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