THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, November 20, 1994 TAG: 9411170690
SECTION: HAMPTON ROADS WOMAN PAGE: 02 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: YOUR TURN
SOURCE: BY PAMELA K. WIGGINS, SPECIAL TO HRW
LENGTH: Medium: 76 lines
I KNOW I couldn't possibly be old enough, but I recently attended my 30th high school reunion. And it has boggled my mind. It seems like yesterday (well, maybe the day before yesterday) that I walked those hallowed halls of a small rural school in the Piedmont section of Virginia.
Time does fly.
Distance and other obstacles had prevented me from attending the other reunions my class had held, but I was determined not to miss this one.
I was not prepared for it.
The last time I had seen most of my classmates was on a hot June night in 1962 when we graduated. There were about 200 of us there that night, and most of us were going on to bigger and better things. Many of us were going to college, getting married, or looking for a job. Some of the boys were joining the armed forces. The future looked very bright in those pre-Vietnam days.
Time has a way of changing things. Having looked in my own mirror for the last 30 years, I didn't think I had changed very much. The wrinkles, the pounds and the gray sneaked up so gradually I hardly even noticed. But boy, had my fellow classmates changed! I didn't even recognize a lot of them. And worse, some didn't recognize me!
We (my good husband willingly went with me) were invited to a small party at the house of an old friend the night before the reunion. She had a new house and a new husband (who was 11 years younger than she) that she wanted to show off.
I was so glad we were invited because I was able to gradually get used to the idea that all my old friends were truly old friends. If I had seen them all at once at the reunion, I might have fainted from the shock. When I walked in the house, the first thing someone said was, ``Your hair is still red!'' (I just smiled and prayed that it wouldn't rain on my temporary rinse.)
The class reunion was held at the old American Legion Hall. About a hundred of us were there. Spouses were dragged along, and most of them made the best of it. My better half had a ball. There was a catered barbecue with all the trimmings and afterward a loud, country music band played all the old favorites. They also played a few new ones. ``Achy Breaky'' Heart was a favorite with some of the girls. And some even knew how to do the dance, the Electric Slide. I was impressed with their agility. It was a sight to behold those bald-headed boys and those gray-haired girls still trying to do the Mashed Potato! One guy danced a particularly strenuous set of fast songs and came close to a cardiac arrest by the time it was over. He declared afterward that he was determined to ``finish that set even if it killed me.'' And he meant it.
There were not many there that night who had escaped serious problems. Some were divorced, some never married, some were working on second and even third marriages, some had had financial losses, and some had problem children. Nobody nearing the half-century mark can escape all of those things. And sadly, some of our classmates had died.
But for that one night, all problems were forgotten. We were 18 again. Having a good time and renewing old friendships were uppermost on everyone's mind. And it was a glorious night. ``Do you remember the time when. . . ?'' was repeated over and over, and shrieks of laughter filled the building when old stories and escapades were brought up time after time. We talked of proms, pajama parties and drive-in movies and how we circled the Dairy Mart on weekend nights.
It was wonderful talking to my friends and finding out what they had been doing for the last 30 years. One old boyfriend, now a real estate mogul, was sporting a young, pretty wife. I asked him how he managed that, and he replied: ``Money will buy you anything.'' Another boy, who is still a bachelor confided in me, rather sheepishly, ``not getting married runs in my family.''
At night's end, we all promised to keep in touch, and we agreed to have the reunions more often. And I know if the good Lord's willing, and the creek doesn't rise, I will attend the next one.
- MEMO: Pamela K. Wiggins is a resident of Franklin. by CNB