Bill ErvolinoE-mail: ervolino@northjersey.com
The Record (Bergen County, NJ)
04-13-2011
FACEBOOK FRIEND BRINGS MEMORIES OF DAYS LONG GONE
Byline: Bill ErvolinoE-mail: ervolino@northjersey.com
Section: BETTER LIVING
Type: News
An Open Letter to the Class of 2011:
Sorry to bother you while you're busy texting the person sitting next to you, but -- sigh -- another random old guy wants to tell you a few things.
For starters: Look around.
In a few weeks, your school won't be yours, anymore. Those rooms, walls and desks will all fade into memory. And most of the people sitting around you are going to disappear, too. Although, granted, people are a lot easier to keep track of these days.
Years after my graduation, in the pre-Internet '70s, it was almost impossible to locate, let alone chat with, most of my classmates -- especially since I went to a Catholic school, where every other student was named Ryan or Gallo.
I was reminded of this three weeks ago, when I was first contacted on Facebook, out of the blue, by Don Buckley. Don said he was a former classmate who wanted to reunite the Holy Cross (Flushing) Class of '72 in a private online group.
"Don! Great to hear from you, again!" I typed, while frantically searching for my yearbook. Buckley? Buckley??
Finally, page 20: Oh, of course. Don Buckley.
Hold onto those yearbooks, Class of '11. Thirty-nine years from now, the chances of recognizing any of your old buds from a Facebook photo will be slim to zero.
You may not recognize them in other ways, either. That loser who slept through math may become a wealthy corporate attorney; while the manic over-achiever may find peace living in the woods, somewhere.
And, that poor geek who could never get a date? Well, he'll get married, eventually. And he'll tell you all about his wife and kids, while you're in his office, asking him for a job.
Frankly, I wasn't too optimistic when Don said he wanted to find as many '72-ers as possible, in anticipation of next year's 40th reunion. Who wants to talk about high school?
But, in just two weeks, he tracked down more than 50 of us, including our valedictorian, George Irving, now in Chicago; and our salutatorian John Smith, currently in Berlin.
I admired Don's tenacity, but was far more impressed that he managed to go online and find the right John Smith. "For that," I insisted, "you deserve a Nobel Prize."
As our numbers grew, posts ranged from what-I'm-doing-now stories to hilarious reminiscences -- including the infamous Chop Chop Incident. (One by one, students yelled "Chop," the last yelled "Timber!" and everyone fell to the floor, while the teacher watched, dumbstruck.)
We're all so different now, but not completely. Through the years, many of us have had the same recurring nightmare: We're in the hall, the bell rings, and we can't remember what class we're supposed to be in.
Beware, Class of '11! At 56, I still wake up sweating to that one.
A far more real nightmare: Finding out that at least seven members of our class are gone forever. I still can't believe it.
In my senior year, reunions were the last thing on my mind. And Don did find some classmates who, for various reasons, declined his invitation. But, others, like me, wallowed in the warm nostalgia of it all.
I've since come to understand that the special shared experience of high school is something you don't appreciate until years later; when you realize, perhaps, that things which once seemed so important, weren't so important after all; or that some silly little fact you learned back then -- about life, love or trigonometry -- will stay with you forever.
If certain teachers, coaches or counselors helped or inspired you, thank them before you leave. It will mean a lot to them. And it's the right thing to do.
And, if anyone (teacher or student) made your life miserable ... well, that isn't as easy to deal with. But, before you graduate, try to put it in perspective and get past it. You have your whole life ahead of you. And, trust me, there are many more miserable people out there, waiting for you.
Take lots of photos and hold onto them, along with any other H.S. souvenirs you have. You may not want to look at them anytime soon. But, eventually, you'll wish you had them.
And remember: Even if you haven't been crazy about your school, there's a good chance that, over time, you'll feel a strong sense of loyalty to it. That's because it's been an important part of your life -- just like all those people sitting around you.
If you're anything like me, you'll probably remember most of them forever. You'll remember Buckley. And Alvarez. And ... uh ... Reichenbach?
Wait a second ...
Where's that @#$% yearbook?
2011
