This year I was invited to my 10th high school reunion and chose not to go. Tonight, I went with my grandfather to his 84th high school reunion. My mom drove us over the winding mountain road, straight through the heart of Shenandoah National Forest to the rural valley town my grandpa grew up in.
His high school is in a beautiful old brick building from the 1880’s. In the middle of the speeches a huge thunderstorm broke out and someone moved the speakers away from the leaking pipe above it. We were served a true country meal by a group of enthusiastic elementary school volunteer waiters: slow roasted beef, pork tenderloin, mashed potatoes with gravy, and sweet tea with peach cobbler and ice cream for dessert. Back in 1939-1941, my grandpa was a cheerleader. For the meal and reception, we were sat in the very gymnasium where he cheered for the girls basketball team.
At 102, my grandpa was the oldest graduate there and led the class song, which he still remembers even after eight and a half decades. I got to hear stories and see the smiles on the everyone’s face when they saw him arrive. If this is what a high school reunion is like, I may reconsider going in a fair few decades.