Presenting the class of 1966
There aren’t many events that’ll assuage (if only temporarily) my weekly passion for writing about national politics.
One of those events is something they call a class reunion.
I just enjoyed my 45th year reunion of the Uniontown Joint Senior High School class of 1966 a little over a week ago.
I’d like to attend one of those reunions about once a month, but I don’t think my pleasure sensors could take it. I’ll have to settle for once every five years.
I’ve determined that for the most part, we’re all growing old gracefully. There are a few humorous hints to the contrary, though. I’ve noticed that after the reunion dinner, we used to dance into the night. Most of us just stand around and talk these days.
There’s nothing like walking into a room filled with octogenarians who’re straining their eyes to read each other’s nametags, lest they might not recognize each other. With each new sign of recognition there was an unforced smile accompanied by a genuine hug, with laughter to follow.
Those nametags, by the way, were required many years ago. The eyestrain is a rather new development.
I’ve always thought my class reunions have been perfect opportunities to reconnect with some of the people I’ve known longer than anybody else on earth. We have a lot in common.
Most of the people at that reunion, walked to school for the first time on Sept.3, 1952. A few of them were in the same kindergarten class with me at Park School. We learned to use crayons together; then to write together; to spell, to count, to cipher together — and eventually, by the time we left Uniontown High School, many of us had learned how to dream of a brighter future.
As young teenagers, most of us had shared the thrill of witnessing America’s first space flights on televisions that were set-up on the auditorium floors at Lafayette and Ben Franklin Junior High Schools.
On the same floors, after classes were let out early for the day, we witnessed Bill Mazeroski make history, on Oct, 13, 1960.
There is no denying that those events (even though the exact details might be a bit hazy) are always worthy of recalling during our reunions.
Then too, there is the one tragedy that has been seared into our memories. We were sophomores at Uniontown High School, when, on Nov. 22, 1963, the entire school heard the announcement over the loud speaker that President John F. Kennedy had been shot, and later died.
It would be impossible to gauge the impact that announcement had on the lives of the young adults who had never imagined such a thing could happen. But it’s heartening to know that when we discuss that tragic day, the effects of it, now, don’t seem as important as telling each other what classroom we were in when we heard the news.
We had suffered other, much less important, tragedies while as Uniontown classmates. They were called Red Raider losses. Not many, mind you, during our high-school years. And certainly nowhere near the number of victories. That’s why, when during our reunion dinner, some people began singing the Red Raider Fight Song, it felt so good. All of those championship and near championship seasons we had while we were in school, helped embed that tune into our psyches.
On Sunday, May 29, 1966, when 407 of us gathered in the Uniontown High School auditorium, it was more than a commencement. It was the last time all of us would ever be together.
Class reunions usually draw a fraction of a complete high school class. That’s too bad. Those of us who make it a point to come back to these reunions have smiles frozen on our faces for three solid hours.
It’s been nearly half a century since we began the journey that we reflected on that night at the Uniontown Country Club. But a long journey that (every five years) leads back to such warm memories is always worth the time.
Edward A. Owens is a three time Emmy Award winner and 20 year veteran of television news. Email him at freedoms@bellatlantic.net.