Composing the class reunion letter reminds me: I am a part of all that I have met

May 1975. A mere five decades ago. Eminent Cary High School English teacher Mrs. Dorothy Baker patiently tried to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. Her maladroit writing student struggled to compose a commencement address.

The first three drafts were deemed trash and summarily discarded. She finally approved the fourth draft, most likely due to the inclusion of a couple of quotes from Alfred, Lord Tennyson’s “Ulysses.”

For good measure a reference to “Macbeth” was also thrown in. Let me stop here and offer my sincere apology to everyone who listened to that sermon.

So began a letter I was asked to write by the committee organizing our upcoming 50th class reunion. Studies show that only 20% to 30% of alumni attend a 50th class reunion. The obvious goal of the letter is to encourage attendance.

Our committee threw me a curve ball when they selected the theme, “That’s What Friends Are For,” a song best known for the 1985 version released by Dionne Warwick & Friends as a fund raiser for AIDS research.

How to sell a theme of enduring friendships to those classmates who don’t feel a desire to reconnect with people they haven’t seen in 50 years?

Of course, the committee could have chosen something even worse like “Feelings” (released in 1974 by one-hit wonder Morris Albert). It really would be a struggle to convert a song favored by lounge lizards across America into a reason to attend a 50th high school reunion.

The commencement address came to mind as I thought about my letter. Our reunion is an opportunity to gather for a weekend of reconnection with the people and events which coalesced into a shared experience decades ago; an experience which in some way influenced each of our subsequent individual journeys.

Back to “Ulysses” and the impressive line from the poem: “I am a part of all that I have met.” This line conveys a sense of connection to people, places, and experiences. According to one reviewer, the line suggests that every experience, whether positive or negative, contributes to the richness and depth of one’s life.

For some, the high school experience might be captured in this quote from inimitable philosopher and orator Winnie the Pooh. “We didn’t realize we were making memories. We just knew we were having fun.”

Others may relate to author Stephen King’s assessment. “I hated high school. I don’t trust anybody who looks back on the years from 14 to 18 with any enjoyment. If you liked being a teenager, there’s something wrong with you.”

For many, the experience which concluded 50 years ago probably fell somewhere between the two extremes. Classmates we once called friends have all but disappeared from our lives, as have classmates we either didn’t know or care to know.

On the flip side, some relationships have endured. Wherever we fall in our views of high school years, and whatever the status of relationships formed during that time, the fact remains that it was a shared experience.

Having reached the 50-year milestone, there is for me a sense of liberation from anxieties associated with previous class reunions. Father time is once again the great equalizer.

No more worries about physical attributes, career success, glamorous lifestyles, etc. We all have wrinkles and gray hair in abundance (if at all). Most of us sport identical red, white, and blue Medicare cards.

Some of us walk around with after-market parts installed, while others are blessed with original equipment. Abdominal six-packs have been relegated to the refrigerator, frequently replaced by muffin tops.

Many of us have concluded our careers, so that race is over. We have learned that a lifestyle is what we make it, and the enjoyment of that lifestyle is what really matters.

Older, and presumably wiser, we are indeed friends. Maybe not close friends or casual friends. Perhaps just acquaintances. Friends nonetheless.

May 2025. Letter completed. Rearview mirrors checked. Focus turns to the windshield and what lies ahead. A wave of nostalgia crashes headlong into an equally powerful wave of anticipation.

A few short weeks ago, local high school seniors attended their commencement exercises. Among them were five students who boarded my gleaming yellow chariot four years ago for a ride to their first day of 9th grade.

Farewell to Eric, Christina, Ryan, Stella, and Marcos as you celebrate the launch of your own post-high school journeys. I will miss you and wish beyond measure that I could join you in 50 years to see where they take you.

Rest in peace Dorothy Lee Baker (Aug 29, 1925 – Sept 30, 2019). You were right. Tennyson’s words are timeless. I am a part of all that I have met … and all that I have met are a part of me.