Reliving Through Reunions

October has been an unusual nostalgia-filled month for me, primarily because I've attended not just one, but two high school reunions and also reminisced with a childhood friend who shared news of his class reunion which I would have attended if my dad hadn't moved us the summer before my ninth grade. The first reunion, my own, took place in New Smyrna Beach, FL, about 10 miles south of Daytona Beach. I must note here that I did not grow-up in NSB like the majority of my classmates. My family moved there in 1968 when my dad became City Manager of the town, but I quickly assimilated into the social scene of high school life and my memories are most vivid of years lived here. I identify more with NSB than other cities where I lived: So. Charleston, WV - ages birth to 2 years, Lakeland, FL - where I lived from ages 2 to 11, Princeton, WV - ages 11-13, or Bartow, FL - ages 13-14. Oddly enough, when I talk about my growing up years I am usually referring to my years in NSB. Even though on many levels I was an 'outsider', I always felt accepted here and many of the closest friendships I still have today are with friends I made in high school at NSB.

Back to the reunions.

My graduating Class of 1971 hosted three-days of events and invited alumni from other graduating years to join our fun. This brought me in contact with old friends from different graduating classes and expanded the opportunity to share memories.Thursday night of the reunion weekend nearly 20 of us gathered for a small, quiet (ha-ha!) pre-reunion event dinner. We met at a Port Orange restaurant with classmates from the classes of 1970-73 and filled the restaurant with laughter and wild stories of adventure in the lives of teenagers searching for their grown-up identities during a time of global turmoil. We were able to catch-up on the latest news in each of our families, share news about our kids and grandkids, work, retirements or planned retirements. It was one of those wonderful evenings where the only regret was not being able to get around the table fast enough to share more time with each person. It was a great prequel to the rest of the activity-filled weekend.

Friday and Saturday nights were the 'big events' of the reunion weekend. Friday, we were slated to gather for a tailgate party before the NSB vs Mainland football game in Daytona but rain moved the party to a karaoke pub in NSB, which worked great for our crowd. Some sang, all applauded. Catching up with those we hadn't seen the night before was great fun. For me, there was a moment of nostalgia shock because the karaoke pub had formerly been a landmark restaurant in NSB - the Skyline - a favorite of ours when I lived there - a place where you could purchase fresh lobster for $5 each back in the 1960s and earlier. I remember in later years when they raised the price to $15 and you could hear people in the restaurant complaining, 'I can remember when you could get lobster here for just two-dollars each!" demonstrating the changing times and economy over the decades.

Saturday night was another bit of nostalgia shock when our party was hosted at Clancy's Cantina, a Mexican restaurant opened by a

family of former classmates and apparently a town favorite. Clancy's is located in what used to be Hathaway's Grocery on the beachside. When I lived in NSB there were two places in town where you could get great freshly butchered beef. On the mainland we had Tyner's Grocery and on the beachside, it was Hathaway's. Both are now gone and the former Hathaway's butcher counter has been replaced with a bar. Weird. But the restaurant is very nice. I like the fact that this old building has been re-purposed rather than demolished for a parking lot. It fits with the environmental awakening that became popular with my generation.



I graduated with about 250 classmates in 1971 and about 75 of those (plus several spouses) were represented at the reunion. Sadly, we've lost a lot of former classmates - some while we were in high school, many since that time due to illness or other tragedies. We remembered them as we gathered. We shared a lot of laughs and memories of good times. We talked about the Vietnam War, our hippie roots, bell bottom pants, rock 'n roll, high school prom, beach cruising, scaling lifeguard towers at night, bikinis, riding the dunes, Boone's Farm Apple Wine, surfing, water skiing in the Indian River, the best party sites, our young dreams and our current realities, UFOs, singing in chorus, playing in band, the Civil Rights Movement, burning bras, streaking, powder puff football, senior skip day, how we thought others perceived us 40 years ago and lots of other 'remember whens'. It was all very grand despite being a weekend filled with constant rain and high winds. Sunday morning, several of us gathered for breakfast and final goodbyes at another NSB landmark, Toni and Joe's on the beach - the only location of our reunion spots that is still operated by the original family - the Granieris. There was a sense of comfort and familiarity sitting there sipping coffee with old friends, but even good times come to an end at some point and for me, this is where my NSB 40th class reunion good times had to part ways.
Although my husband, Steve, isn't a fellow NSB High School graduate, he's attended each reunion with me over the decades and has assimilated into the Class of '71 quite easily. He's heard so many of the same stories over the years - my version and the repeated versions of friends - that most of the time he knows the ending to the story before the teller can finish. But he waits, patiently allowing each person to reminisce and shares the laughter as though it were the first time he'd heard the story. I like that he fits in easily and doesn't become a wallflower like some spouses at reunions.

This past weekend - just two weeks after our Florida reunion trip - we traveled to West Virginia to participate in his multi-year alumni reunion event. It was a huge contrast from my NSB reunion experience.

Steve's class only had about 50 graduates - rather average for his school in the 1960s and early 1970s. They combined graduating years in an effort to boost attendance but there were still less than 40 people total at the one-event reunion. We met friends from Pineville High School graduating classes 1968 - 1972 for a very nice buffet dinner at Tamarack in Beckley, WV. For those reading this who aren't familiar with Tamarack, it's a landmark visitors center operated by the State of West Virginia that showcases arts, crafts and other products specifically made in West Virginia. They have a cafeteria contracted to The Greenbrier Resort, which means the food is excellent quality and this is who catered the Saturday night dinner.

While there is a sharp contrast between my NSB reunion and Steve's PHS reunion, there are great merits to both events. I wouldn't say either was better than the other. Both were wonderful and memorable in their own right. Old friends came together to share memories, update each other about their current lives and leave having made a new memory. Both events offered food and great door prizes, although, I must confess that I won nothing at my own NSB reunion, but Steve won a calculator at my reunion. I won the big gift basket door prize at Steve's PHS reunion - hooray!

If I had to name any regrets over either of these reunions, I'd have to say I regret that more people weren't present for both. The surprise for me was the high number of former classmates for both reunions who actually live in the local areas but chose to not attend their reunion. We traveled 10 hours to get to my reunion and five hours for Steve's. Both were expensive trips with overnight stays for us, as well as for numerous former classmates but a significant number of local folks chose to stay away. What's with that? It's hard for me to understand why such a disconnect has occurred over the decades, especially from people whom we had such close relationships with during high school and even for many years post-high school. Some of us braved high winds and rains to attend the reunion, traveling far distances, so it's hard for me to understand why someone who lives a mile or two down the road couldn't ramp into gear to show-up to reminisce with old friends. But the truth is, this is a reflection on their character, not mine nor that of those who did attend.

The wonderful reality of both reunions is the amount of maturity we've all gained over the decades. The need to impress one another is non-existent these days which is a major improvement over early reunions. We all seem to have settled into life as it has unfolded before us and that youth-driven need to compete or out-do the other guy faded away as gray hair, extra pounds (in most cases) and wrinkles settled on us. All of the unrecognizable faces I saw returned to their youthful selves once I recalled their names at the reunions. I'm definitely a gray-haired (under the Clairol), fat old broad with glasses these days but I also like to think that the years have brought me wisdom, courage and compassion that I didn't possess as a teenager. I recognize the relationships of these beautiful old friends helped to influence and mold me into who I am today, which is actually not such a terrible thing. I look forward to our next gathering.

Honoring Dads...

Dad's across America are waking up this morning to many good wishes for a wonderful day. If you forgot to mail your dad a Father's Day card it's not too late. Log onto an e-card website and send him something that represents your sentiments. I mailed my dad a card but also sent him an e-card. He particularly likes the unique creations I make for him at www.jibjab.com, so that's where I went to send him good wishes when he logs on this morning.

Like millions of other moms, when I was growing up it was my mom who led us through the Father's Day salutes, reminding us a week or more in advance. Back in the 1950s and 60s when I was growing up (or, "In the Dinosaur Age," as my son Isaac says), remembering to honor you dad on Father's Day and your mom on Mother's Day was fairly easy. There wasn't much competition with other interests and activities like there is today. We weren't distracted by a Wii or other game system - and kids of my generation didn't typically get Sunday afternoon horseback riding lessons, or other extravagant luxuries. We went to church in the morning, had Sunday dinner mid-afternoon, then either played, finished weekend homework, or did a few chores. When I was young most of the stores weren't even open on Sundays, so there were no distractions for shopping needs/wants, either. Occasionally, we would go to a Sunday afternoon movie because it was only 10-cents until about grade eight. Then it went up to a quarter, and I think by high school it cost a whole dollar to go to a movie. A 15-cent box of popcorn would last the entire movie. Today, Steve and I can't go to the movies together for less than $30. Tickets are $7.50 each ($15 for two), and the popcorn/drink combo is another $15. BIG DIFF!

When I was young, my dad was very active. He loved to fish more than any other activity and by his forties he also developed an interest in golf. Growing up in Lakeland, FL from age 2 to sixth grade - an era of stability before dad went into city management and we became a family of gypsies, moving every few years - we lived on Crystal Lake. It was wonderful. The entire neighborhood worked together to create and maintain a beautiful stretch of sandy beach, complete with a floating dock about 100 yards offshore. Dad could be found knee-deep in water with his line cast out waiting for a big bass to bite most evenings after 5pm. On weekends, he would take my two older brothers, Stephen and Mark, out onto the lake in the little fishing boat he bought. Somewhere around fifth grade, dad decided to convert the boat to a sailboat. He was amazing! Nothing dazed him. Did I mention that he also taught us how to make homemade rootbeer and one year he made a darkroom in a box to teach my brothers how to develop film for a Boy Scout project. Once they were finished with their project, he taught me how to turn that same box into an incubator so I could hatch chicken eggs for a science project.

Growing up, I knew my dad was the smartest man on earth, not to mention magical. One night when I was in Kindergarten, we were watching a show about World War II. I knew dad had served in the Navy and I asked him if he ever got shot during the war. He said, "Oh - yes - I was mortally wounded!" Of course, I had no idea what 'mortally' meant, so I asked. He said, "It means I died." As my five year-old brain processed this concept with some skepticism he explained to me with sincerity that he wasn't a real human being now because he was a "...ghost...BOO!"  Which sent me and my younger brother, Jack, running and screaming to mom. Yes, I was a rather gullible child. I wish the story ended there but must confess that I made the mistake of telling my older brothers that our dad was a ghost. The teasing didn't stop for months.

I have learned a great deal from my dad over these past near six decades. He taught me the importance of being honest and holding onto integrity even when others around you do not. From my dad, I learned that respect and trust are earned, not given freely. I also learned the basics of Poker and gained a great love for many board and card games. I also learned how to hold my bladder between gas stations on family trips and how to use a charcoal grill. Dad taught me how to drive, how to do my taxes, how to change a tire, check my oil and radiator water levels, and how to polish shoes. He made sure I achieved a sound work ethic and is responsible for getting me my first job working for Parks and Rec at age 13 and keeping me employed every summer through high school. He convinced his publisher friend to hire me at age 15 to work at a weekly newspaper, then talked another friend into hiring me to flip burgers at the local Burger Chef. When I started college in 1971, he used his influence to get me a job as a photo journalist for a double-daily newspaper and it launched a career for me that lasted nearly three decades. He saw something in me that I didn't even know existed at the time.

When I reflect on my youth and young adult life there are very few moments that don't include some form of credit to my dad. He was there to name me at my birth and continues offering his love and support today. He's an amazing human being who has raised seven kids and been there to help raise grandkids and even great-grandkids today. My siblings and I affectionately refer to dad as a "stubborn old coot," (something we all also inherited from him, like our arthritis, too), but I believe it takes a stubborn quality like my dad's to successfully raise a brood of kids who are self-sufficient, contributing members of society. He could have given up on any one of us long ago, but he didn't. He hasn't been shy in telling us when we make him proud, but it's really us who are proud of him. He's accomplished much in his 90 years, maintaining his integrity throughout, teaching us life's most important lessons by setting a good example.

Today is a special day to honor our dads and I, for one, will always be grateful to my dad for all he's done for me in my life. Thanks, dad. And Happy Father's Day. I love you.

Congratulations or Condolences?

To say I've been on a whirlwind lately is an understatement. About a month ago, I was approached by the acting president for the board of directors at Mental Health America of the Triangle (MHAT) where I've worked as a family advocate on and off since 2000, consistently 'on' since 2007. Our executive director had submitted his resignation and our board asked me to serve as interim executive director while they worked on a permanent plan for leadership. The side note was that in addition to assuming the top role of the organization on an interim basis they also needed me to assume the responsibilities as project director for one of our programs, Reclaiming Futures (RF). I have been intrigued with RF since we were funded for it two years ago because of it's a national initiative to prevent substance abuse in adolescents and to connect families of youth entering the juvenile justice system with treatment services and community resources - an important, ambitious project.

I must confess that I was completely surprised by the offer and also intrigued at the option for a new challenge. By saying 'yes' I quickly learned that my first official week on the job I was going to have to be in Miami for a leadership conference with Reclaiming Futures. I'm not fond of travel - unless it's a cruise ship - so was beginning to worry that I had taken on more than I really wanted in the way of a job. Yep - the dreaded 'second thoughts' hit me like a wave of nausea. I felt the need for quick reinforcement or quick confirmation that I needed to bail, immediately, so did what any other good girl does. I emailed my dad to ask for his opinion.

Dad has always been brutally honest and I knew if there were any facets I wasn't prepared to handle for the position he would quickly point them out to me. I kept second-guessing my decision, asking myself what in the hell have you said 'yes' to and wishing I hadn't responded so quickly to the request. But, it wouldn't be the first time I had reacted impulsively and had regretful worries. Dad was taking his own sweet time replying to my email which added to my paranoia. I was certain he was going to respond with a lineup of reasons why I should renig on the acceptance.

When I finally received his response, instead of chastisement, dad was supportive. He said he felt I was more than competent to handle the responsibilities as an executive director and believed I was going to be a good leader for the organization. He offered me affirmations which was exactly what I needed.

As the announcement of my new position filtered out into the community I heard from many friends and professional acquaintances. One asked me, "Should I offer your congratulations, or condolences?" We laughed together and I said maybe a little of both. But isn't that a universal truth about most everything? There are pros and cons to everything.

Ecclesiastes tells us "To everything there is a season and a purpose under heaven," which helps me accept that I'm here today for a reason and it's my charge to do the best job I'm capable of doing. If I fall short it won't be for lack of trying because I was brought up by two parents who were great role models of integrity and hard work. They molded me into the person I am today and when it comes right down to it, I'm not really afraid of a new challenge. I'm more fearful of not meeting other peoples' expectations or needs but, as my dad pointed out, when I give the job all I've got then there's a high chance I'll get things done effectively.

So, here I am - on a new journey and ready to rise to the challenge. Wish me luck!