A Tale from the Past to the Present

 As I write this blog, I'm sitting on an airplane returning from an unforgettable weekend in Los Angeles.  I rarely travel to LA anymore, California holds memories that I love and some that I'd rather forget.  This trip after 5 years, was to attend my 50th high school reunion.  How fun the evening turned out and a wonderful time was had by all. We were all asking the same questions, as it seemed.  We were all older, so many had grey hair, tummies and reading glasses (me).  Are we really this old and who is that man, I can't remember his name (me probably)?  Where did the 50 years go?  Just yesterday we were sitting on the football field, receiving our diplomas and looking forward to the summer before adulthood was to begin.  But here we were, the class of '73, 50 years later, together again and celebrating life!

The stories we all recounted, the memories of the past and catching up on the present were just wonderful.  Seeing my old friends from girl scouts, Tri-Hi-Y and classes that we can't remember now, brought plenty of laughter to be sure.  Even Mr. Kanner was there and reminded me I was in his algebra prep class!  Figures, I was horrible at math.  Some of our other memories were dimmed with the passing of time. Who would have thought, 50 years ago, we'd be in the last third of life, celebrating together the times we live in now, once again.  

We all had a story to tell, and since this is my story, I'll lead you dear reader into the present.  Some know my story, most do not, as I keep my life off social media except for a joke, an inspirational quote or two, and a worthwhile news article.  I'll tell my story from my heart and through my fingers on the keyboard of life.

I always felt out of place, awkward, and very self-conscience growing up.  I never felt like I fit in, I was not in the in-crowd, nor did I live up in the first tier of San Marino.  I lived down on the bottom third tier, below Loraine Road, on Sycamore Drive.  My ride to school was my feet, my ten speed and in my senior year, I occasionally got to drive the family car.   Bob Dylan and John Denver posters were pinned on my bedroom wall, and we did have a swimming pool, which my dad had built in 1966.  I'd love to see the inside of that house now, the breakfast nook my dad designed and built, the swimming pool and the back fence line, where the Neville boys looked over at us when we went skinny-dipping.  Life was simple, normal, and sweet.

I went on to PCC after graduation, down to Long Beach State in 1975 and stayed in the South LA/North Orange County area for many years.  John got a job offer to move to Boeing in Seattle so for the next 20 years, I raised a family, worked hard, and settled into life in the PNW.  As so many of you know, ten years ago we lost daddy and husband to cancer, and I then recreated my life and began once again.  

Retirement came easy for me; I was burned out and exhausted, so I retired early 9 years ago.  I set my intentions to live well, travel and invest wisely.  I had attended our 40th reunion stressed out, worn out from the months prior, and frustrated at having to leave a terminally ill husband, a rebellious teenage daughter and two dogs without their circus ring master.  When the 45th reunion rolled around, yours truly decided to go once again, this time in a better frame of mind and twenty pounds lighter.

The 45th sounded fun.  I was ready to face the past, smack dab in the face.  I went with no preconceived ideas of how it would turn out, only I was ready for the party.  That April, I had been in the UK and broke the bone connecting my leg to my ankle bone.  Long story short, I fell down three narrow stairs in an old hotel in Berwick on Tweed.  For the rest of my UK journey, I walked on the blasted thing, pumped full of Advil and a pressure bandage.  I got home and went for my well check 3 weeks later.  What the heck, I had my foot x-rayed and got the diagnosis I did not expect.  Therefore, I walked into the 45th reunion wearing a foot boot and a smile. 

After the event, I was invited for drinks with a fun group of old friends at the old Huntington Hotel lobby bar.  The magical massage on my "war wound" not only touched my foot but my heart and soul as well.  My life changed for the better after that healing touch from strong hands and that pure soul.  This girl has never looked back again. Yes, there have been challenges, yes plenty of tears but they're only tears of joy now and my heart is full.  Saturday night, and the Class of '73 witnessed what a heart looks like healed, opened again and where the magic is allowed to happen. Yes, we know we caught most of our friends by surprise and many asked me; "how did this happen, when and are you really seeing each other?"  Yes, yes, and yes again and I am incredibly grateful.

Therefore, to end this tale of knowledge from the past, and present, cheers to the Class of 1973!  Cheers to the wonderful friendships that have endured and cheers towards the next 50 years.  Until the next reunion that I have named, "55 for 55's," may God bless and keep each one of you.  XXOO  

1985 Sycamore Drive, June 2023