Fifty-Year Reunion

Original: November 2010

W.B. Ray High School – Corpus Christi, Texas – Class of 1960

You know, this recollection exercise may turn out to be a lot more difficult than I first imagined. But, it’s not what you may think. I’m not so worried about writing something stupid (I do that all the time) but it has a lot more to do with the visual memories of the entire event and how they may become embellished or worse, get changed or forgotten altogether. Besides that, I need to keep the story under 3,500 words or I’m told that many readers will go south for lack of interest. I will do my best to capture the moments I can recall and keep it short.

I’ve changed a lot…

I guess I will attend to the “looks”category first and get it out of the way. Besides, it really wasn’t important in the final analysis because I was among my pals and we were all showing signs of Geezerness, so a friend’s appearance became secondary to the wonderful conversations I had with each of them. I believe that anyone who is seeing a friend for the first time in 50-years will mentally make notes about what has changed and what is still the same. Of course, our memories tell us one thing and then our eyes try to tell us something else. I suspect that this is a fast calculation because my attention quickly turns next to recalling long-forgotten memories and relishing the trips down memory lane.

I have never attended previous reunions because no one could ever track me down long enough to send me an invitation. And also, I admit that I was not looking myself until I had good Internet service. Thanks to Ken, a dedicated classmate, a beautiful web site was created just for our graduating class. So for about a year I have been able to connect with some pals via e-mail or telephone in anticipation of attending the reunion. My anticipation soared. Many of my classmates told me that they have gone to all of the reunions over the years. They have had a chance to see subtle changes in people’s appearance – particularly if they have lived in Corpus all of their lives and probably see each other quite often. That’s like watching our own kids growing up and who are now approaching their 50^thbirthdays. YIKES! Many of us first-timers were seeing the cumulative effects of these subtle changes for the first time: To quote my lifelong friend Bill (and Gomer Pyle), “SHAZAM!” But, I was absolutely flabbergasted that almost everyone looked good, healthy and happy. In my case a loss of hair, more wrinkles, aches and pains and a classic redistribution of body mass.

Now, on to the festivities…

The reunion committee that put on this once-in-a-lifetime event is due the greatest of applause, thanks and kudos. The 2-day event went off without a single glitch and about 300 people attended the confab. The hotel facilities were fully up to the task and the generous volunteers made it all so exquisitely fun and intimately fulfilling – starting with our individual nametags which were large, easy-to-read printing as well as our pictures from the 1960 Silver Spurclass album emblazoned thereon. I thought that was a class act but I fully admit that I get giddy over many simple things. Sheralyn greeted me and gave me a red tote bag filled with information and a special W.B. Ray coffee mug in school colors was just the icing on the top of the registration process. Now, what made this moment so memorable is that many of my classmates started to accumulate in the lobby where registration tables were set up and we all started re-introducing ourselves and sharing spontaneous memories of years past – fifty-years past. I found this to be the best place to really spend some time with someone and catching up, so to speak. The informality was perfect. But, the evening dinners were also a great place to meet and greet. Everyone was looking for someone. A ballroom filled with 300 human targets is a sight to behold when my eyes start darting to and fro; hopefully getting a glimpse of something or someone that piques my interest. Usually those moments for me were about fifty-feet away so I became a human cannonball inexorably wading and winding through the crowd, fully determined to reach my appointed target. Too often, upon arrival, my target had moved on so the process started all over again.

I was happy that I could still remember many classmates after all these years and slightly embarrassed when I had to put on my eyeglasses to read some of their nametags. This was the first shot across my bow. I’ve known for a long time that I was fast approaching the beloved Geezer Age yet I can still see a resemblance to my 18-year old self. Of course my eyes are lying like dogs. I’ve read other reunion recollections over the years and there is one thing that all of them have in common. They always make a note that the old cliques’ of our high-school days have evaporated. When you’re about 68 years old, even the thought of such silly things is very remote. At least it is for me. When I walked the halls in 1960, I probably knew 70% of my classmates by name, most with whom I talked and many of whom were good friends. Many others were just acquaintances but we each knew who we were and we all probably had a closer group of friends – the dreaded clique. That youthful experience vaporized as we were milling around in the lobby – it sort of felt like I was still walking down the hallways and just chatting with old friends the same old way. I would look up and another familiar face would stir old thoughts, especially if I could remember them as if it were yesterday. Several times the memories of Padre Island and Port Aransas were relived. That was where we learned to drink Lone Star like underage beatniks and get so sunburned that we could hardly walk. There was no hint of a popularity contest and we were all just old pals and classmates. The common experience of our youth was enough to make it seem like a family reunion. I was awed at those who had distinguished themselves and held humble by those who had achieved so much. I was awash in a sea of smiles. Absolutely everyone had smiles on their faces. Plus, all of us who came of age in the 1950’s have a special social link to this period: The music, the contemporary words and phrases and so much other shared cultural commonness.

Sonny, a guy I have known since the second grade was instantly recognizable. We shared oodles of memories. I loved every minute of it. Jim and I shared a conversation about a friend, Wayne, who recently passed away and how he was just about the best baseball pitcher either of us had ever known. Louise and I were close friends from about the 4^thgrade on and I could have spent an entire evening with her remembering our silly youth and her twin brother David who sadly has left us. She has hardly changed a bit. I will treasure her unexpected kiss on my cheek as someone snapped a picture. Knox, David, Sherry, Jim, Mac, Marsha, Butch, George, Gene, Ronny, Russell, Garron, Richard, Nancy, Pearson, Tom, Melvin, Spec, Bill and so many others please know that it was my greatest pleasure to see and talk with you all once again. Like many, I almost feel compelled to start listing complete names but since I would forget someone I won’t even try. The previous “short list” is my feeble attempt to personalize some memorable conversations. I was disappointed that a few old friends who I particularly wanted to see once again failed to make it. But, I had a list of people that I wanted to see and with the exception of those who had already passed away and a few who couldn’t make it, I got to fulfill my wish. Sadly, I could find myself welling up as Mac read the roster of our deceased classmates. I remembered so many of them. The older we get the longer the list grows.

I discovered there were two basic and very different conversations taking place. One was built entirely around childhood and teenage memories and the other was based on life-experiences and catch-up discussions – the children, the grand children, retirement and health. Both were equally enjoyable. I would be remiss if I did not mention the fact that our school’s football team won the State Championship and those athletes were the graduates of our class. Butch, the quarterback, was probably my oldest pal since our mother’s had also grown up together as kids and our families were frequently doing things together since we were born. But, I had not seen him for 50-years and was thrilled to say howdy once again. When all of the athletes were asked to stand for applause I realized that a lot of these guys played college football and baseball after graduation. I really admire them all.

I must admit that my anticipation of going to the reunion was about as much fun as actually attending. I spent a few months e-mailing with my pal Kathy and she shared photos of the previous reunions and we swapped our own growing-up stories. This all helped get me interested. I hadn’t dwelled too much on my teenage years as I chased life and the old memories came flooding back. It was really fun. I planned to drive myself the roughly 230 miles, drop off to see my college roommate Bobby in Goliad, check-in to a bay-front room and enjoy a brand new car radio and hands-free cell phone along the way. I was excited and had my collection of fifties music all queued up for my sound system in the car. Listening to all of that good fifty’s music was certainly prepping me for the confab and was very entertaining on the drive.

I discovered real quick that I was more remembered for playing the guitar than anything else. Fully 50% of the folks I got to chat with always started the conversation with,” Joe, did you bring your guitar?” When it was happening I felt sort of clumsy because I can’t play anymore. Although I quickly discovered how fortunate I was that anyone remembered me at all. The crowning glory to the last evening’s dinner-dance was a 1950’s Rock and Roll band – Johnny Dee and the Rocket 88’s. These guys are polished and the music they played struck every nerve in each attendee. They played “our” music and did a darn good job of it. There’s nothing like an old song to rekindle memories.

The Reunion Committee gave out hundreds of cameras with a large roll of film. These reusable cameras are a perfect idea for getting hundreds of candid shots of everybody there. Each table had their own cameras and everyone took pictures of everyone else. I hope that all of these pictures will show up in the memorabilia booklets we ordered. There was a photographer taking individual pictures of anyone wanting to pay $20-bucks and pose for the camera. I hope that the Reunion Booklet will include hundreds of pictures. Too bad it can’t capture the conversations.

As I learned, many classmates have become medical and dental practitioners and more than a few have had distinguished legal careers even rising to the bench. Others have created their own businesses and become fabulously wealthy. One naval aviator could be considered a national hero. In general our group it seems was reared to have a good work ethic and live a healthy and moralistic life style. Perhaps ours is the last generation to fervently try to achieve the American dream. It’s funny that our parents thought that Rock and Roll, an invention of our era, would lead to a total collapse of our culture. Maybe it will but it won’t be the fault of our class of graduates.

Now my home town after fifty years…

Well, we had plenty of our own time over the weekend to do whatever we wished. Since I had my car, I drove around for a few hours looking at all of the places I remembered. I visited my pal Johnny and his sweet wife Susie and ate the best BBQ I ever put in my mouth. Of course I had to take a peek at my own childhood homes and I am happy to report that both of them are still standing and well maintained. Since my dad was the architect for both, I’m sure he is well satisfied wherever he is. I also just had to drive by Menger, the elementary school I attended. It looks just the same as it did 60-years ago. That really amazed me. I drove out to Ray High School and nosed around. Some folks decided to take a tour of the school. I opted out of that event and just went by myself. Except for a lot of huge trees, the place looked the same to me. I remember when the street in front of the school was named Minnesota and now the name is Texan Trail– in honor of the school’s name. There are so many new freeways that I hardly recognized the place. I tried to stay on the back roads that I remembered but I admit to getting lost once. A whole street is now gone. I had forgotten to take note of this possibility. Thanks Garmin GPS.

Unfortunately, with the exception of the bay front area, the rest of the city looks to be in disrepair and generally falling apart: At least the old neighborhoods that I roamed as a child do. Perhaps this is just a matter of time taking its inexorable toll on stuff. I don’t want to think that the people are disinterested. That’s not fair. Whatever the circumstances, I was a little disappointed. On the other hand, the bay front and T-Head area is absolutely beautiful. The City Fathers have certainly splurged on this postcard-perfect landscape. A large bank building and a hotel now dominate the business district along Shoreline Drive. When I lived there this bay-following road was called Ocean Drive and the tallest buildings were only two stories. Seeing 30-story buildings is like a culture shock experience. As a young kid, I frequently rode my bicycle all over this road and down to the T-Heads. They recently tore down the old City Coliseum where our Senior Prom was held. I recall seeing Elvis Pressley, Chuck Berry and Johnny Horton perform there. It looks barren right now but I think the city has another project planned for the land and I never did really appreciate the architecture of the old Quonset-like building.

As I drove onto and around each of the T-Heads and L-Head my memories of sailing with Kenny and Mac came flowing back like it was just yesterday. I spent many hours sailing all over the Bay with these guys and loved every minute of it. I parked and listened to the waves washing against the boat slips and the seagulls squawking above – begging for a handout. The sights and sounds of that moment were all so familiar.

Now, winding down…

Well, I woke up on Sunday very early. I knew I had the drive back home to Houston and wanted to get back before the Texan’s noon NFL game. It was quite dark when I drove out of the hotel parking lot and I had about two hours before the sun would come up. After I recall a few unfortunate moments, you will know why I will NEVER travel alone again. If have to hire a homeless person with good eyes to ride along as my navigator then I will. Hopefully my Betty will always ride along wherever I travel again.

I’ve driven between Corpus and Houston close to a hundred times in the distant past. I thought I knew this route by heart – and I did – once. Unfortunately, over a fifty year period I forgot to make note of the fact that roads and interchanges will have changed. Boy, have they changed. First, driving to Corpus and in broad daylight, I got lost leaving Sinton and ended up on a freeway all the way into the South of the city – a route I never took in the past. I’ve always gone through Portland and over the Harbor Bridge. But, the old road was no longer there so I missed the turn off. I couldn’t believe that Sinton was almost like a suburb to Corpus. When I lived there it was a separate town – 30 miles away with expanses of cotton fields all the way in between. Now, apartments lined the entire freeway (which was new to me) until I came to the refineries off of Corn Products Road and Navigation Boulevard. I finally saw the sign directing me to Ocean Drive (Oops – Shoreline Drive) and that was when I first got the impression that I was nearing my old stomping grounds. The growth and expansion was almost unbelievable – like I was in a familiar yet strange place. Remember the 30-story buildings? I was disappointed that I didn’t get to drive over the causeway and high bridge which would have triggered a lot of visual memories. Oh well, once I got to Shoreline, I was found again. Hooray! Even though there were a zillion changes there was a complete familiarity to it all.

Now, I also got on the wrong turnoff on my way out of Corpus, early that pitch black morning. I ended up practically driving to Ingleside and couldn’t find a turnaround for five miles. Finally, I got on the correct highway and found myself in the middle of a huge wind-farm. As far as the eye can see, huge electricity-generating wind mills line the landscape looking like a manmade forest of giant trees with little red-strobe lights (all blinking in unison) on the tops. This was a new memory-crushing experience for me. The same land used to be entirely flat cotton fields. Now, the land grows cotton and generates megawatts of electricity for the city as well. I’m enough of a techno-geek to appreciate this technology but I wasn’t prepared for the visuals – even in the darkness of early morning.

Summary…

I confess that I had some apprehensions about attending my 50-year high school reunion but all of them vanished the minute I registered on the first day. My old friend Mac, the Committee Chairman, greeted me with a special little uttering that only he and I share and could possibly understand. We haven’t seen each other for almost 45 years. Sans hair, we both look the same. And, if you believe that I have to believe you’re from Mars. My ten-year college reunion was a worthless experience and my whole outlook of reunions was jaded by that miserable experience. However, I couldn’t be happier with our entire high school reunion event. It was perfect. It was fun. It was fulfilling. It was wonderful seeing so many of my old friends. It was great hearing about their life’s experiences. Some classmates owned some restored cars of the era and had parked them out in a row by the hotel entrance. The nostalgia from seeing the cars of “our” age was so interesting and warm. I’m not really a car-guy but I could easily identify the 1955 & 1957 Chevys, 1939 Ford and 1960 Corvette. These are the cars I drooled for when I was 18 but could never afford. Many thanks to all of them for taking the time to display their prized possessions at our reunion: It was a great touch. I had intended driving over to Port Aransas but just didn’t want to go alone so I didn’t. I was there about 18 years ago and I’ll get back someday.

Standing back from the crowd, I was pleased at the look and luster of my friends. Everyone has distinguished themselves in their own way. Our class represents an accomplished group of fifties teenagers and mostly in pretty good physical condition. I saw no indications of anyone not enjoying themselves. If ever an OSCARwas awarded to any reunion gathering, it would certainly have to be this one. So as I began, I want to heap my gratitude on the entire Reunion Committee and thank everyone who attended for taking the time to show up. If I didn’t get to spend enough time with you, then please forgive me because it wasn’t that my eyes were not darting back and forth each evening looking for you. How lucky I am. What a great bunch of Geezers. What wonderful childhood memories. How lucky I am.

Our Beloved Alma Mater

  

 

These trees were just sprouts in 1960. For anyone who doesn’t know, the SILVER SPUR is the W.B. Ray Texans school symbol. For three years we walked through those front doors. Looking back, they truly were some of the best years of my young life. See our slideshow of the reunion.

1959 Football Champions Story - A beautiful website story of our State Champion football team lead by quarterback Max (Butch) Derden and a bunch of my pals. Great pictures of coaches, players, Caller Times stories and more. This was put together by tackle Bill Samelson and is a great trip down memory lane.