Reflecting on Age

As a favor to Jess Searle's wife, Nancy Snyder Searle, a Bosse 1967 graduate, I ended up being the "official" photography for the Bosse 45th Reunion this past weekend. It was a smaller affair than the Reitz 45th Reunion the previous week, but combined with three reunions in one year (I'm including my own last May), it was more cause for some thinking on my part about the issues of age, wisdom and grace.

This thinking was brought into closer focus by a flurry of Facebook commentary over the weekend and a singularly unrepresentative photo featured in the Society page of the local rag.

First, it made me think about how lucky we are all, to be here to reflect on all of this. I instantly recalled a classmate of mine with whom I reconnected a couple of years ago after a 43 year interruption. We talked excitedly about attending and seeing each other again at our reunion in May and all the other people who had committed to me to attend and laughed with great anticipation of reliving all the goofy things we did in high school with these folks. It was with great sorrow that I learned of his passing in February of this year and I thought of promises unfulfilled and friendship renewed only to be cut short by unfair and unfeeling time.

We all of us, age. It is a part of our trudging march to the inevitable, the final universal law. The issue is, I suppose, how we engage the aging process in our lives and attitudes about living what time we have left. Those attitudes vary almost as widely as the number of people there are, but I think there are some trends that were revealed by this past weekends' conversation.

I think most have chosen the path of acceptance, trying to maintain what little dignity is left to us as joints refuse to obey our requests for movement; muscles fail to rebound as quickly as we expect; eyes become more reluctant to bring sight into sharp focus and teeth fall prey to 63 years of abuse like ducks in the carnival shooting gallery. We manage as best we can and try to play the hand that genetics have dealt us as carefully as we can without becoming phobic.

We also understand that all of us are doing exactly the same thing. We poke fun at ourselves with old people jokes and pass along cartoons jabbing our foibles in self deprecating good humor. We also tend to address serious medical conditions with grim defiance and determination. I think we saw that as some of our classmates, facing surgeries, crippling diseases and uncertain futures, nonetheless made their attendance at our reunions a mandatory requirement of living. I love and respect these people for placing my company and friendship in such high regard. That is one of the reasons I thought it important to suggest shorter intervals for our next class get-together. I want to see these people again before anything bad can happen and I hope they feel the same way about me.

I'm sorry to believe, as demonstrated by this weekend's events, that some of us have adopted a different attitude toward aging, denying the truth and their common destination, thinking somehow that their good health and genetically random good fortune somehow afford them a platform from which they can ridicule and belittle the less fortunate of us.

I suppose it is the same attitude that allows people to believe that cheerleaders are better than flag twirlers; that flag twirlers are somehow better than the marching band, Future Farmers, or Chess Club enthusiasts and so on down the imaginary social ladder. These tired, cliched, and juvenile attitudes seem to enjoy pathetically long life that supersede class spirit, participation and common memories of adulthood. We are "insert (young looking, wealthy, influential, whatever makes me feel better about myself)", and you're not. Fortunately, most of us outgrow the need for these attitudes fairly early in life so that we can deal more successfully and maturely with life's real issues.

Linda says that I have too much time on my hands to consider such matters so philosophically (this as she hands me my next honey-do list). She just says that there are always a few such folks in every crowd, and moves on from there. She's probably right. It's certainly true of my high school class as well. Leave it to me to try to figure out how or whys of it all.

Once more, off the soapbox. Here the bottom line. Know that your reunion committee is not interested in being an exclusive club. It is based on the willingness to participate and work on a most inclusive enterprise, the quest to make your next reunion the most broad-based and widely attended party the West side has seen in 47.5 years. We want people to try and imitate the success of the Reitz Class of 1967 for years to come. We want them to say,"Now that class was something else. They know what class spirit really is." You are and you do.

We don't care about your bank account, your accomplishments or failures, your material possessions or social status. All we care about is that you went to school with us and care enough about us that you will join us in celebrating ourselves and our common school experiences every few years. It was like that last year, it was like that last week, and it will be like that two and a half years from now.

Oh, and by the way, we have new information from Patty Qualls about one of the 4 as yet not located classmates. Jerry Johnson is somewhere SW Missouri. Linda will be on that one, you can be certain.

Onward to the Pig in the Park and I don't mean Mesker Park either. See ya there.