**60 Years Later**

When we first stepped into high school back in 1960, many of us encountered a remarkable situation. A significant number of students from neighborhoods and grade schools we had never heard of before found their way into our lives. Notably, a large contingent walked merely a short distance across the street, having spent their formative years at Guardian Angels School. As a result, we found ourselves mingling with peers hailing from unfamiliar places and parishes we barely knew existed, such as Amelia, and Milford,, along with vibrant communities represented by St. Thomas More Parish, Immaculate heart of Mary Parish, and others. In those early days, it almost felt like we were meeting international exchange students right in our own hometown.
In no time, we began to coalesce into a close-knit group, comprised of various cliques and subgroups. There were the jocks, the intellectuals or “nerds,” the trendsetters, and many others who defied easy categorization. I suspect that this experience wasn’t unique to us, as countless other high schoolers across the country were navigating similar social landscapes. Still, it certainly felt disorienting at the time as we grappled with our identities.Through the ensuing years, we shared many unforgettable experiences together. We attended high school dances, celebrated Mardi Gras, participated in the Sadie Hawkins Day Dance, cheered at football games, enjoyed homecoming festivities, and conjured memories at the spring formal. How many among us can vividly recall who our dates were during those moments as we swayed to the music and experienced what we believed was young love? The memories of those days linger, some quite clear while others have faded into a haze of nostalgia.A great deal happened during our high school years that seemed beyond our comprehension at the time. We witnessed pivotal events in history, such as the Cuban Missile Crisis, the shocking assassination of a president, and the turbulent backdrop of a war. Some members of our class headed off to college, while others enlisted in the military, responding to their sense of duty. To my knowledge, none of our classmates were lost to conflict, and thankfully, they returned, though many came back with invisible scars. In what felt like the blink of an eye, we transitioned from the innocence of childhood into the complexities of adulthood, often navigating that journey in profoundly dramatic manners.

As we prepare for the reunion next month, I find myself wondering who among my classmates I will recognize and who’ll  remember me. I sincerely hope that some of the memories from our shared past have been softened by time, allowing only the joyful recollections to rise to the surface and accompany us during this reunion. In just a few short years, we will all be octogenarians. Will there be a 65th reunion? A 70th? It’s a tantalizing thought as we ponder our future gatherings.

In conclusion, I can only hope that this reunion will be an event to remember. If you find that you don’t recognize me, or perhaps don’t recall our time together, feel free to embellish the truth. As we age, our egos can become increasingly fragile, making it challenging to reconcile the person we feel we are inside with the image reflected back at us in the mirror. The person I see staring back is somewhat of a stranger, and I can only surmise that the same might be true for you.

Until next Friday, I wish you a wonderful week, and I kindly invite you to consider sharing this article and/or subscribing.