Random Reunion Reflections
45th Anniversary Reunion of Albertville High School Class of 1966
Ben Alford
I am still basking in the glow of this past weekend, September 3 - 4, 2011, as the Albertville High School class of 1966 celebrated the 45th anniversary of our graduation. I am trying to put into words what it is like to have known people and been close friends with many of them for my entire life. One classmate, Charlene Buckelew McCoy and I were born in the same hospital on the same day, and LaMon Brown and I met at Mr. Martin’s Store when we were five years old, back in the days when five year olds could roam the streets and neighborhoods without fear. Frank Hughes and I lived across the street from each other and Patricia Bethune lived across the street from my grandmother, and Thomas Alford is my cousin. There are many more connections from very early in our lives: church, Cub Scouts, Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts, baseball, football, basketball to name only a few.
Many of us started first grade together and others moved in over time. In 1963 a large group was added to our number as the ninth grade graduating class from Asbury Junior High School joined us for high school. Finally, in 1964, Ernest, “Bill,” Kirkland and Robert Manzy joined us from the Lake Shore School in Guntersville where all the black children and teenagers in the county attended school.
Gathering with friends, acquaintances, and people we knew only by sight forty-five years ago, a lot goes on in one’s mind. The first thing I reflected on was my own life, what I have done and left undone, where I have succeeded and where I have failed, times when I have given thanks for all my blessings and times when I was so down and depressed that the idea of giving thanks never crossed my mind. Another powerful emotion is that of our mortality, especially in a class of 175 which has lost forty-two of our members to death. Gathering again, I found myself thinking about how I have changed, how the rest of my classmates have changed and about what we have learned from one another and can continue to learn from one another. It also occurred to me that some of the things that divided us forty-five years ago: the football players and the band members, the rich and the poor, the city and the country, Baptist, Catholic or Church of God, while important in our formation and growth may not be quite the barriers and boundaries they used to be. In fact, I sense that we may even appreciate some of these differences. How boring would it be if we were all alike?
I suppose what I am feeling is that after forty-five years we have actually grown and matured. Many of us have experienced profound successes. Many have experienced profound failures and tragedies and losses. . By sixty-three years old, most of us have lived long enough to experience both. Some have gone through one or more divorces or other relationships which ended differently than planned. Some have experienced serious illness, some have had spouses or children or siblings die and almost all of us have lost one or both parents. We can learn from each other. We can see how others handled and overcame experiences that we cannot even imagine and we can draw strength from them. What I have learned, to quote John Donne, sixteenth century English Poet, is that:
No man is an island entire of itself; every man
is a piece of the continent, a part of the main;
if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe
is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as
well as a manor of thy friends or of thine
own were; any man's death diminishes me,
because I am involved in mankind.
And therefore never send to know for whom
the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.
God created us to be in relationship, in community, in communion with one another. It is no wonder that Jesus said, “the first and great commandment is this, you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and mind and soul and strength, and the second is like it, you shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Life is about relationship, faith is about relationship.
We of the Albertville High School class of 1966 share a common history and my sense this past weekend is that in spite of the miles which separate us, and the variety of experiences and careers and life styles and political and religious and economic differences, many of us are closer now than we were forty-five years ago. Even though we are still interested in football and other sports, and camping and hunting, and fitness and fishing, we are also interested in our children and grandchildren or nieces and nephews. We are arriving at a point in life from which we want to leave the world a better place than we found it. We want to find a way to educate the ignorant and feed the hungry and create jobs and to make life better for just one person who might make life better for thousands or millions.
All weekend I noticed people with an interest in others and their stories. Where have you been, what have you been doing for all these years. Who did you marry, are you still married to him or her? Do you have children and grand children? Are you still working, or are you retired? What is it that makes you want to get up each day? Why in the world would you ever vote for that person or go to that kind of church, or live in a place like that? I noticed a passion for life that, God willing, we will keep till the day we die. As Jimmy Buffett says, “I’d rather die while I’m living than live while I’m dead.”
As we were preparing for the reunion I had the opportunity to chat with Anneva Hard about her life and the blessings and trials that have been hers. We talked about the fact that we knew each other when we saw each other, “back in the day,” but that we really did not know each other. As we prepared for the Sunday morning worship service we got to know each other better. The week before the reunion Anneva went into the hospital and we were not sure whether she would make it to the reunion or not. I promised to “bust her out” of Marshall South if I had to and I also promised to dance with her, wheel chair and all! As it turns out, husband, Richard, “busted her out” of the hospital at three Saturday afternoon, we did get to dance together, wheel chair and all. I suspect others got to know people they did not know that well forty-five years ago. I hope you will share those experiences with the rest of us.
It was also fun to find out who is related to whom, or to remember who is related to whom. Not to mention any names, but it would be interesting to draw a family tree for, oh, maybe, Harriett Dunn or Rita Gore Dowd, to see to whom they are related—just in our class. I am reading a book by an author friend, Lexi George, here in Wetumpka. The story, Demon Hunting in Dixie, takes place in the small town of Hannah, Alabama. I told Lexi, “I know that town. I grew up in that town.” And by the way, Lexi graduated from the University of Alabama. For whom do you think the town of Hannah was named? Growing up in a small town there are so many connections: family, neighbors, church friends, parental friendships and many others that tie us together. With some of the barriers of youth torn down, our relationships may just grow and blossom in ways we never expected.
Reunion 2011 began on Saturday, September 3 at 6:45 a.m. when I picked Randy Smith up at his home, directly across from my mother’s home on “post tornado” East Main Street. We then headed to the Days Inn in Guntersville to pick up LaMon Brown and head to Lake Guntersville State Park for the every fifth year class of ’66 golf tournament. Thirteen classmates, the girlfriend of a classmate, the husband of a classmate and the son of a classmate gathered to spend the morning in the sunshine, renew old friendships, make new ones, and if the golf gods were kind to us to occasionally make a decent golf shot. It was a good morning, and just being together we may have made the world a better place to live.
Saturday Night the dinner, dance and party began. The planning committee had kindly (or not) provided name tags graced with our senior pictures. (Why didn’t at least one of you “girls” tell me to let my hair grow out)? Visiting, touching base, looking back and looking forward, we shared information, we asked about children and jobs and where are you now. We learned about marriages that had lasted forty-five years and other marriages that ended, some before their time and others long after they should have. “For better or for worse,” the events of our lives, good and bad have made us who we are and in most cases have made us stronger. If nothing else the theme I kept hearing and repeating is that we need other people, and that those of us who have known each other for so long need those of us with whom we shared some or all of these experiences.
As mentioned earlier, forty-two of our classmates have died since our graduation. Tony Simmons has kept records of who they are, when they died and of what cause. Charlene Buckelew McCoy took this information and created a wonderful tribute to these people who were and always will be part of our lives. The beautiful flower arrangement with each of their senior pictures in it brought tears of sadness and joy to my eyes and I suspect I am not the only one. The chart listing names, date and cause of death for each added important missing information to their stories and to our stories. Thank you Tony and Charlene.
Some of closed the evening by dancing until they turned the lights out and made us leave. Guess we’ve still got it! Of course, they turned the lights out and made us leave at 9:30 p.m. instead of 2:00 a.m.
We awoke Sunday morning to clouds and a little drizzle thanks to Tropical Storm Lee. We slowly gathered at the Pavilion and at Lake Guntersville State Park around 9:30 a.m. for some casual visiting as we prepared for our Class Worship Service and Picnic. I was privileged to coordinate our worship and I have to say that the most difficult part was getting the Baptist Preachers not to be so nice to each other. LaMon Brown and Robert Manzy kept trying to give up their time to each other. “They were just so nice!” Seriously, it was a thrill to work with Anneva Hard, LaMon Brown, Randy Smith and Robert Manzy. I am just sad that Robert was not able to be with us. I truly felt the presence of the Holy Spirit among us and around us as Randy led us in song and LaMon and Anneva shared their powerful stories. To hear their stories of faith and love and God’s presence brought tears to more than one eye.
Worship moved easily into visiting and eating the wonderful picnic provided by Walter Adams, Gloria Adams, Bill Aaron, Cindy Burroughs and others. People moved easily in and out and from one group to another. I heard stories I had never heard before about classmates and teachers and activities that were “unreported” except through the “grapevine.” I Heard things about Mrs. Weathers and Mr. Camp and other teachers which, if you want to hear them, you will have to come to Harriett’s for the Homecoming game pre-party on September 30. These are the kind of stories that you “had to be there” to appreciate, but I have a pretty good idea that they and others just might be told again sometime real soon.
Last but not least, Charlene did a “scientific survey” to see who was in Mrs. Gardner’s first grade class. Charlene, Harriett and I were in there along with Patricia Bethune and Celia Keller Music. We can continue this game when we gather again in five years, or before. It is almost like church. Remember, scripture says that “where two or three are gathered in the Lord’s name, he will be there.” Well, where two or three are gathered in the name of the Albertville High School Class of 1966, “whose class were you in when” will continue, and Mrs. Weathers and Mr. Camp and Miss Masters and Coach Beasley and Mr. Nixon and many, many others will be there.
I hope you will add your thoughts and reflections to my reflections. Remember, all that happens in our lives helps make us who we are, and everyone whose life intersects with our lives changes and shapes us.
Old friends, Sat on their park bench like bookends
A newspaper blown through the grass
Falls on the round toes
of the high shoes of the old friends
Old friends, winter companions, the old men
Lost in their overcoats, waiting for the sunset
The sounds of the city sifting through trees
Settle like dust on the shoulders of the old friends
Can you imagine us years from today,
Sharing a park bench quietly
How terribly strange to be seventy
Old friends, memory brushes the same years,
Silently sharing the same fears
Time it was, what a time it was
A time of innocence, a time of confidences
Long ago, it must be, I have a photograph
Preserve your memories, their all that’s left you
(“Old Friends,” Simon and Garfunkel)
