This has been the summer of reunions for us. We went to Wyoming in July for my 50^th high school reunion and now, a month later, we are in Beaverton, Oregon for Lydia’s 50^th reunion. To a certain extent, this reunion is mine as well. I attended Beaverton for the last 5 months of my senior year. Strangely, I feel closer to these folks than I do to the people in Wyoming, though I knew them only briefly before we graduated and went our different directions.

For 5 months the kids, as they were then, took me in and made me feel a part of their group. (Partly I was accepted because a friend I had known through the 5^th grade was going to Beaverton and we immediately renewed our friendship.) We were drama students and our lives were generally focused around the plays we produced at school. Beaverton, a much larger school than the school I attended in Wyoming, took a professional approach to theater. Unlike the stage we used in the cafeteria in Wyoming, Beaverton had a full theater with upscale lighting on catwalks, scenery that could be flown overhead between acts by virtue of sandbag counter weights, and makeup and greenrooms.

Theater productions create a special bond, I suppose because of the time and effort it takes to create a work of art and imagination. With common purpose, a group of people come together to create an imaginary world that will last for two to three hours. The work is mentally and physically arduous, particularly after a full day of school. It was not uncommon for us to work and/or rehearse until 7 or 8 in the evening, which left little time for home work and sleep. I remember once setting lights until 2 in the morning. My mother was not happy. I was at a place in life where my apology was not at all heart felt. I was doing what I loved and thought I was good at.

It was through drama that I met and later married Lydia. Neither one of us continued theater work in college. It was the late 60’s and the world was a busy place. We never lost our love for drama and attending plays is still one of our favorite pass times.

That being said, last night was a reunion of the drama “kids”, sort of a pre-reunion for a select group. We have kept in touch over the years via the old school landline and more recently the internet. It was fascinating to look into the faces and try to see the young people we had been. Several have had knee and/or hip replacements. At least one has survived both cancer and a series of strokes. Age and disease have diminished our numbers and certain names brought forth sighs and bits of quiet remembrance. We caught up on each other’s lives, shared stories of grandchildren, and played ‘remember the time’. We raised a glass to our absent friends.

We are no longer young and by 9:30 we were tired and ready to go home to our beds. We shared lingering hugs.

For only 5 months of my 67 years, these people were a part of my life and yet they have a hold on my memory and heart more than those I knew for years. I can only say that they welcomed me without preconception and put me to work at something I loved. For that I am grateful. It was, for me, the beginning of figuring out who I was.

 

Most of us will see each other tomorrow night at the formal reunion, which for many of us will be the last time that we ever see each other. We are getting old and the road here is long.

 Tomorrow night will not be the same as last night, when for one last time the drama kids got together.