If I didn’t love high school so much, maybe reunions wouldn’t be so important to me.
Accused by both my mom and dad of only going to school so I could do “the other stuff,” I cannot deny it.
In addition to working on the newspaper and yearbook, where morning “ad selling” trips downtown were thinly disguised jaunts to the Spudnut shop for hot glazed fresh from the oven, I was in Pep Club, with the white chenille “S” emblazoned on my maroon hot itchy wool short-sleeved sweater.
And yes, I was the only one with a broad enough chest who could wear the “S” without it folding in on itself.
Pep Club and rooting for the boys took the majority of my time, but I was also a state officer in DECA and in the Plainsmen Marching Band when we took a three-week trip to Europe and came home world champions. I had zero to do with claiming that prestigious honor.
Poor Jay Dee Schaefer, the best band director in all the land. I had zero coordination and even less musical aptitude, so I carried one of the flags in parade formation.
It was a delightful surprise that so many at our 50th reunion were folks who I did not chum around with on a regular basis.
Oh sure, the football greats were there, and their high school sweetheart wives, but they were only some of the reunion attendees.
As usual, I gravitated toward the St. Laurence School refugees, the ones like me tossed in the open sea of public school between eight and ninth grade.
Those years at St. Laurence were charmed, small classes, lay and religious faculty who truly loved us, and of course the storied CYO (Catholic Youth Organization) for our “social” enrichment.
One of my very favorite couples at the reunion was the Rawlins CYO basketball star and the Laramie CYO cheerleader, who I witnessed meeting at a tournament in Rawlins.
Without Facebook or cell phones, that two-day encounter led to 48 years of marriage and great-grandkids. Since my grandgirls are 9 and 7, I cannot fathom this.
They are just one example of how great it was to be at this reunion.
The shy brainiacs in school are now the most fun to talk to.
The heartthrob boys who wouldn’t give me the time of day are now actually very friendly.
A guy from Denver who has been at every reunion said this was his favorite.
I missed one but I have to agree.
Owen has never been to a reunion of his own but he’s been to three of mine.
The first one I dragged him to was our 30th. We walked in the door and he knew three guys from law enforcement before I could even get us registered.
Laramie reunions are traditionally held during Jubilee Days, because the town is already nuts so why not make it completely crazy?
We were driving around LaBonte Park, searching for our parade float.
In his defense, most of the flatbeds with hay bales looked alike. So Owen walked up to a box of donuts and was going to take a couple. “That’s not us,” I yelled from the car window. “That’s ‘84.”
And he said, “well their shirts are the same color as yours.”
True. Because almost all of us had maroon T-shirts. Eventually, we found our own float and our own donuts.
As long as the Plainsmen can continue to put something together, I will be there.
Reunions are wonderful things.
Sally Ann Shurmur can be reached at: SallyAnnShurmur@gmail.com
