Going Back

I recently returned to my hometown to celebrate my 49th class reunion. Yes, that number is correct. The reunion organizers got going with plans a year ago and somehow the math got muddled. There is no law against odd numbered years for reunions and I, for one, had a fabulous time reconnecting with my former classmates. It was beastly hot outside but that did not deter us from telling tales of good times and, of course, sharing the misadventures of our youth.

We toured our former high school which was once a barracks building for workers on the Fort Randall dam in a burg called Pickstown. (Fun Fact: Tom Brokaw spent a few years of his youth in this town. His dad was a construction foreman for the Army Corps of Engineers.) The rooms in the barracks were repurposed into classrooms and a gymnasium was added. Over the years, a shop was tacked onto the building and the kitchen was enlarged.

The school has long since been sold and a new school building was built down the road. The old school was purchased by a local farmer who uses the gym for storing farm equipment. The rest of the rooms have been converted into a museum of sorts, displaying many antiques and remnants of the building's educational past. My classmates and I enjoyed sitting in the old desks and turning on the "air conditioner", an old oscillating fan which whirred and creaked as it circulated warm air on exactly two people in the room. I guess it was better than nothing at the time.

Of general interest was the room with the infamous pudding on the ceiling. We did not have a hot lunch program so all our meals were eaten out of brown bags in classrooms. I do not remember any supervision and I certainly hope our overworked teachers were taking a break during our lunch time. The story goes that one bright bulb got the idea of using his plastic spoon as a catapult for chocolate pudding. The goal was to get said pudding to stick on the ceiling. Extra points if it glopped down later on some unsuspecting soul. We did not find remnants of the pudding but we were entertained with the memory nonetheless.

The old pay phone was replaced by an avocado green landline phone. Pre-cellphone days our only connection to the outside world was the pay phone. It cost a dime to make a call so one had to choose wisely. Most of us learned to make all our arrangements in advance and we knew how to be resourceful if our plans went off the rails. One phone call none of us wanted to make was the dreaded I-have-to-stay-after-school call. I remember getting a little too chatty in biology class one day and the beleaguered science teacher called me out for it. I had it coming and my parents readily agreed that I should do the time. I would like to say that it cured me but I am afraid that was not the case. At least it trimmed my sails for a bit.

We ended our reunion with coffee and donuts in the new school. It was hard to imagine such luxury for the new generation. Air conditioning, lab supplies, music room, real lockers, kitchen for hot lunches, computer lab and weight room. Gone were the wooden desks, roll down geography maps, chalkboards, typewriters (R.I.P. pica and elite!) and dusty erasers.

As my classmates and I bid each other farewell, one memory was crystal clear for all of us. We were more than just friends back then. We were also a family. Gratefully, forty-nine years later, that has not changed.