I need to confess something right up front.  I loved growing up in my hometown.  In fact, I loved living there so much that except for the four years of my undergraduate college days and the three years my first husband moved us all to Maine, I lived there from my birth in 1941 to 1984, when I finally left town to work for Harcourt Brace Publishers in Orlando, Florida.  My three children were born there and graduated from the same high school that I did.  My hometown is special to me for many reasons, and because of our publishing schedule, I hadn’t been to a reunion since our 25th in 1984.  I figured it was time.

Now about this 50th reunion:
It was joyful, and it was sad.  It was awe-inspiring, and it was humbling.  It engaged my mind, and my emotions.  The trip back to my 50th high school reunion was all of that and more.

It is truly an extraordinary community, by any and all accounts.  And so, I came to realize, are the graduates of 1959 from Columbus High School in Columbus, Indiana.

Where to begin …
Just getting there was unique this summer, since my flight left Sacramento over two hours late.  Yes, I missed my connecting flight.  That meant spending overnight in Dallas with no luggage ie: no clean clothes.  (The airline did give me an “emergency” kit with toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, etc., for which I was most appreciative.)

My flight the next morning left on time and arrived in Indianapolis on time (12 hours later than my original ETA).  Miracle of miracles, my luggage arrived then, too.  (I was unable to sleep the night before in Dallas, partly due to worry about where my luggage might be when I landed in Indy.) 
I was met by a friend who I’ve known since the seventh grade.  I’ve been lucky, damn lucky I’d say, to have had a number of really good friends during my lifetime, but it’s only been in the past year or so that I came to understand that I’ve even had a few that are “once in a blue moon” friendships.  Nellie is one of those.  (I could write a book, or at least a few chapters on what we’ve experienced together, particularly from college prep English forward.)

As we drove from Indy to Columbus, my heart flooded with joy, as I was dumbstruck with the absolute beauty of green.  I viewed cornfield after cornfield of green, row upon row of green soybeans, and in the background, forests of huge, green, Indiana trees.  I felt like I was home again.  (Green in the summer is something I have truly missed since living in California’s Sacramento Valley, where it doesn’t rain from May-October.  Our roadside fields here are brown in the summer.)

After reminiscing a bit with Nellie and looking through our ‘59 yearbook and what classmates had written for the 45th reunion booklet, there was time for a quick bath, a short nap (remember I didn’t actually sleep in Dallas), and then we were headed out to the Friday night informal picnic event at Moose Park.  (No, there are no moose in Indiana—the park name refers to the organization of that name.)

I was pleased to see a large crowd upon our arrival, and it grew bigger as the minutes ticked by.  The memories got bigger, too, as I rediscovered one classmate after another—two from Miss Book’s second grade class, the guy who helped me get through geometry class, the gals who sat with me in English around the home ec table because the English classrooms weren’t completed at that time, and one I discussed religion with at high school slumber parties, plus a woman I’d later taught with in Columbus.  There were more: a man I’d dated briefly in the late 70’s, following my divorce, my “steady” from ‘58-’60, a woman who is the mother of one of my daughter’s good friends in high school—well, you get the idea.  It was reliving memories each and every moment of the time spent at that “picnic.”  And so very many wonderful hugs throughout the evening.  ‘Twas an emotional high.

Back at Nellie’s home that night, out came the yearbook and the 45th reunion booklet again, as we discussed the classmates we’d reconnected with that night and the ones we wished we’d talked with, but didn’t because time hadn’t allowed or they hadn’t attended.  I recognized several classmates (without peeking at their nametags) because I’d seen their photos on the Facebook site that Joyce T. H. had set up for our class.  (We owe a big thank you to Joyce for that and for also posting her multiple photos from our reunion events to be enjoyed once we were home.)

For Saturday, Phyllis (she’s the woman who’s planned each of our wonderful reunions) had arranged a tour of the newly renovated and reopened Zaharako’s, a turn-of-the-century ice cream parlor.  (The renovation has expanded the area and now includes a museum, as well).  My mother enjoyed Zaharako’s as a young woman and took both her children and her grandchildren there to enjoy the sights and sounds, the cherry phosphates and the ice cream sodas … Open since 1900, this community icon was spotlighted on The Today Show and features the original tin ceiling, Tiffany-style lamps and fixtures, as well as stained glass in their cabinet doors, marble countertops/soda fountains, and lots of gorgeous carved oak.  To some, listening to the 1908 Welte orchestrion, a self-playing organ, is the highlight of eating there.  But to me, it’s the entire ambience of all that lovely marble, the stained glass, and the Tiffany look—of course, the gom cheeseburger and cherry cokes make it the complete Zaharako’s lunch experience for me.  (For nostalgic fun, checkout their website complete with music:  www.zaharakos.com)

It was also at Zaharako’s that I learned from Tom of Mike’s passing.  I very much enjoyed reading Mike’s words in the 45th reunion booklet—they seemed so genuine, so real.  They were down to earth and intellectually philosophical at the same time.  (I’d hoped to tell him as much, if he was to be at this reunion.)  And my, he surely loved his chosen state of Montana and treasured his friendship with Tom, whom he mentioned twice in his ‘04 write-up.  (My closest friend in California grew up in Montana, and was anxious to hear of my talk with him.  ‘Twas not to be.)  Tom then handed me a copy of something that was used at Mike’s memorial service.  I didn’t even get past the first stanza of the poem by Yeats, before my eyes filled with tears, and I handed it back to Tom, requesting that he send me a photocopy of it so that I might read it in private later on. 
Soon it was time for lunch at Zaharako’s, and I enjoyed talking with classmates as they passed by the aisle table where Nellie and I were sitting.

Next, I wanted to take the architectural tour of the city, but Nellie was not so inclined (she hates bus tours), but said she was happy to wait while I watched the visitor center’s short, new video, which she’d seen recently.  (Fantastic video!)  And she was pleased to drive me along part of the self-guided tour; so, we did see most of the buildings (and bridges and pieces of sculpture) that have been added, since I was last there.  The streetscaping in downtown Columbus is just simply beautiful.  (It had been a pleasure to walk the 1-1/2 blocks from where our car was parked to go to Zaharako’s.)
to be continued …