Fifty years on

Counting by the old method, where grammar school lasted through eighth grade and high school was nine through twelve, I went to three different high schools. My ninth grade year was my last at Zama American High school in Japan; it was a wonderful year and I was sad to leave. I still remember well friends I haven’t seen since June of 1963, fifty-three years ago.

Sophomore year was at St. Joseph’s Catholic HS in Atlanta. It was the only year of my school life that I was often unhappy. Most of the kids had been going to school together for nine or ten years and they didn’t welcome an intruder. When I started dating the best looking girl in the class the boys were NOT pleased. I’ve been in two fist fights in my life; they were both that year. In both cases I was jumped by a sophomore boy.

Luckily, dad was transferred back to Richmond in 1964 and I attended JR Tucker my junior and senior year. They were two wonderful years and I was immensely happy. I had lots of friends, held several positions in student groups and generally led a carefree teenage existence. After graduation in 1966 my group of friends scattered; I went to Notre Dame, my girlfriend Tina headed to Ohio State, Ellen went to the University of Wisconsin, Chuck, Frank and the Friedman twins all went to UVA. Sadly, I quickly lost touch with all of them except Tina; we continued to date through the sixties.

Last May I received an email about the fiftieth reunion of our class and had a wonderful ninety-minute conversation with Art Friedman, my best friend from senior year. It was likely the first time we had talked in forty-eight years!

Last night I saw Art, his brother Ed and lots of other friends from my graduating class. It was the first Tucker reunion I’d ever gone to and it was brilliant. It was far better than I expected and totally stress-free, unlike I anticipated. As Art had said to me during that long phone conversation, none of us have anything to prove anymore. Worries of being too fat or too gray or not successful enough were banished, replaced by the joy of seeing people who had once meant an awful lot to me. Some folks I didn’t remember – most folks I didn’t recognize – but it was an exciting evening filled with unexpected memories, hugs and handshakes and a lot of great music, both live and canned.

Twenty-five years ago I went to Richmond for the twenty-fifth reunion but then decided not to go. I was embarrassed by my lack of professional success. I should have gone then; I am so glad I went this time.

Art on my right, Ed on my left

Photo by Sally San Soucie

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