Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Why Not? (My First Reunion)


Ken walked back and forth in the banquet hall with a wireless microphone in his hand while 87 of his classmates and their guests listened to his words:

“I moved away after we graduated.  Two months later, I was down in Arizona.  I went to college for a year then ran out of money.  I moved to Texas and started working down there. As time passed, I thought you had forgotten about me.  You forgot about me, right? . . . I started making some phone calls.  I think I called Gary Szczeny, Mike Cammarano.  I got a hold of Wayne Alexander in Japan.  I got a hold of Joe Licatta, Rick Schrader.  Everyone I talked to said, ‘No, we are not having a reunion.  We haven’t had one yet.’  So why not, you know?”


Why not.  Those two words proved to be the seed that grew into a reality that brought 88 classmates from 27 states back to the Buffalo area to reconnect.

Since this was my first reunion, I had no idea what to expect.  The first event I was able to attend was the pre-reunion party at Magruder’s Restaurant on Broadway on the evening before the reunion.  When I arrived with my wife and son we noticed a sign near the entrance directing us to the room that had been reserved for the occasion.  Seated at one of the five or six tables were men and women I did not recognize.  There was a moment of uncertainty as we searched the faces for some sort of recognition.  The moment ended after I announced my name and the introductions began.

As classmates continued to trickle into the room, the sound of the chatter of so many conversations built to a steady level that was sustained for several hours.  There was a curious dynamic.  When I was in high school, I developed close friendships with 2 other guys.  We spent a lot of time together.  One teacher had labeled us the three musketeers back in the day.  Neither one was able to make this get-together, leaving me to interact with guys I had known but in a passing way.  Most of those in the room, I had not known at all, other than perhaps passing in the hall between classes. There was camaraderie with these guys, in spite of that, with the common thread of interaction being having graduated from the same class all those years ago.  At the same time, there were others from specific groups who were reminiscing all the old stories from the high school days.

I had asked my 22-year-old son to tag along at the pre-reunion get-together with some reservations.  He told me later that he was glad he was able to attend so he could see the future.  It also enabled me to see my reunion classmates through my son’s eyes.

The next evening was a more formal event attended by many more classmates.  With my wife next to me, we stepped up to the greeting table to obtain our nametags and a collection of biographies written by many of the attendees.  Inside the banquet hall was an open bar, circular tables with ten place settings each, two buffet tables festooned with flowers and the “Buffalo” foods.  Memorabilia had been set up behind the dais on two long tables and framed by the American flag on the left and the Hutch Tech flag on the right.

As we headed across the room toward the memorabilia center, I saw Ralph and his wife.  Two out of three musketeers are better than none. We caught up with each other, filling in what had happened in our lives during the intervening years. Family, home, work, play, health and whatever incidental stories that related or not. This was interspersed with memories and all the stories that were triggered by being together again.

After dinner, the guys who organized the event, Ken Brown from Texas and Joe Licata from Maryland, presented the program that consisted of an introduction describing how the idea had begun, faltered a bit, then experienced a resurgence as more guys expressed interest through the efforts of Dan Cronk.  We shared a moment of silence for the deceased members of our class.  There was a noticeable consensus of shock over the number of fallen classmates.

One classmate had planned on attending but was unable to.  He had become the most recent addition to the list of fallen classmates.  He had succumbed to Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, known to most as Lou Gehrig's Disease.  Raffle tickets were sold and money was raised to advance the research to find a cure.

The class president shared some remarks.  This was followed by topical jokes, a PowerPoint take-off of Jimmy Fallon’s Thank-you Notes and a comparison of prices and songs of today versus those of the year we graduated.   There was a presentation of a gag special achievement award and the singing of the alma mater.

Some faculty members were invited to the reunion.  Of those able to attend, I had only had an association with one.  That was my cross-country coach.  I made a point to say hello and introduced him to my wife.  We talked about how great the team was the year I ran.  He was also the basketball coach so I made sure to mention my daughter’s stellar college basketball career.

During the social hour after the formal program, the group assembled for a class photo.

Looking back on the event, I have to say it was all about what I would have expected. I did not anticipate the emotions that have resulted from the experience.  I am still in the process of sorting through them all and do not yet know what to make of them.  Perhaps there is nothing that needs to be made of them.  Perhaps the feelings have resulted from reconnecting and rekindling whatever I was experiencing back then.

One important aspect I had forgotten or have minimized through the years is how special that school was and is.  It is a technical school located in downtown Buffalo, New York.  The school requires passing an entrance exam and offered a program of studies that differed from those of other Buffalo high schools.  These areas of study included Industrial Chemistry, Machine Design, Engineering College Preparatory, Electrical Engineering, and Building Design and Construction.   One of my classmates took a moment at that pre-reunion get-together to let my son know that he was in a room filled with a group of some of the brightest people he may ever have the opportunity to be associated with at one time.  These were guys who, according to their biographies, had achievements in the following careers: bioengineering, petrochemical engineering, mechanical engineering, entertainment, computer programming, business, architecture, music, the automobile industry, education, telecommunication, government, healthcare, research, technical writing, social work, air traffic control, construction, corrections, law enforcement, financial services, military, sales, manufacturing, U.S. Postal Service, building inspection and medicine.

After absorbing all their accomplishments I have to say I was a bit humbled.  At the same time I am proud of my own accomplishments. Although a fellow classmate reminded me that my high school achievements were not too shabby, I find it curious that I am left feeling as if I have unrealized potential, in spite of all I have achieved so far in life.  Perhaps these are the feelings that lead to my own personal drive.  In any case, I am proud to have been associated with all those amazing people and feel fortunate to have been afforded the opportunity to reconnect with them.

Thursday, August 02, 2012

"Beyond" Excited

National Public Radio was reporting on the Olympics.  One of the American swimmers had won a gold medal.  The reporter said the swimmer was “beyond” excited.  I wondered if that is possible.  

I imagine if a person is chagrined, they could be “beyond” chagrined. They could be irked.  They could be bothered.  They could be annoyed. 

If a person is agitated, it may be possible to be “beyond” agitated. They could be disturbed. They could be tense.  They could be troubled. They could be distraught. They could be frantic.  

If a person is forlorn, they could be “beyond” forlorn. They could be dejected, despondent, hopeless or even desperate.  

But how in the world can a person be “beyond” excited?  Would thrilled be considered “beyond” excited?  It seems to me that exited would trump thrilled any day.  After some thought, I have concluded that being excited is a peak emotion and any further modifications are mere hyperbole.  

I wonder what Strunk and White would have to say about this.