Maybe it was a good thing we didn’t plan a 55-year reunion. We probably would have had to cancel it anyway. If people are eager to get together, they do. A couple hundred of us wish each other happy birthday and share bits of news on Facebook. Old friends gather in whatever way they can — in person or on Zoom, at homes or parks or, alas, at online funerals.
Too many of us are lost forever, each name pulling us up short as we recall the bright face of an 18-year-old. Of the original 900 or so in two classes, nearly 115 are gone that we know of, and with imperfect tracking of students and graduates, that number is likely somewhat higher.
As we discovered when we contacted people in the runup to previous reunions, a lot of our classmates don’t care or would rather forget their high school years. Many of those who do care have connections that go back even further — to elementary school or junior high. Those early friendships are profound and, at this point, very, very long. We have seen each other at our most awkward and our most beautiful. We have celebrated triumphs and grieved losses. We have made families and careers and many of us have retired. We have disagreed and made up and rediscovered old friends.
Who knows if we’ll have another reunion. In 2025, 60 years from our Uni graduation, those of us still standing will be well on our way to 80 years old. And even if we feel 20 or 40 in our hearts, who knows if we’ll have the inclination or stamina to organize another reunion and be seen one more time.
But that’s still a ways off. In the meanwhile, stay healthy and stay alive, okay? Contact an old friend and say hello.
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And vote — if not for yourself, for your grandchildren.