Rory King: Thanks for the Memories

By Rory King

For the last few weeks, I have been struggling to find the words to express what our 50th class reunion meant to me. I'll have to be honest. I had some reservations in the weeks leading up to it. Reunions always do that to me. They prompt the perennial self-examination. What have I done with my life? What have I achieved? Will I have left the world a better place? Have I loved to the fullest? 

Tough questions, these!

But do you want to know something?  None of that mattered. Because, for a couple of days, I was back in high school. I was back among people who cared about me, and about whom I cared. I was among people who valued me for who I am — not for what I've accomplished — or how much money I have made—or what I could do for them. 

It brought me back to those sweet, beautiful, innocent days of high school.  Of warm, beautiful girls, who loved life and laughed easily. Of strong, wonderful guys, loyal friends, who had your back. Of dedicated teachers who, it seemed, really cared about forming us, as well as teaching us. Of discovering the lifelong adventure of learning from the likes of Dave Smith, Kathy Schreiber, Clete Noecker, Al Bull, Carl Daubert, and Carol Pratt.

Of choking down warm Hamms beer at the haystack. Of listening to, and watching, the New Group's version of "Harlem Shuffle." Of dreaming to the music of the Everly Brothers, Roy Orbison, and the Beatles, singing of young, magical love, on the car radio. Of the pungent smell of the locker rooms. Of the excitement of capturing the emotions of a Tennessee Williams character on a bright stage in a darkened theatre. Of the heady experience of making the basketball team my senior year. Of trying to see the movie through the fogged-over windshield as the couple with whom we doubled-dated (who shall remain forever nameless) for the prom sunk out of sight in the backseat of my Desoto at the Drive-in. Of so many other wonderful people and wonderful times.  

I know that memory can be very selective — that it tends to filter out the day-to-day conflicts, anxieties, animosities and adversities. But I like the selection!  And I really don’t want to remember the anxieties and conflicts. And I really do think that that those days, and those people, and that time in our lives, were very, very special.

So, to the Class of '66: Thanks for the memories! They will warm my heart forever!