The Glue That Holds Us Together: High School Reunions

Class of 1989 in 1989

Class of 1989 in 2019

This weekend was my 30th high school reunion, and it was pretty amazing.

I graduated with around 150 students from Sheboygan Falls High School. I have fond memories of my high school years — playing in the band, acting and playing for musicals, forensics competitions, and all-around fun.

Social media makes these reunions so different from what they used to be. We all keep up with each other's lives from a distance, but only what we all share on Facebook. A fun day, first day of school, a special dinner out for an anniversary, a kid's sports accomplishments.

But when we all get together, we share each other's lives. And because we've known each other so intimately, granted a long time ago, we are all pretty open about challenges facing each of us. Divorces. Careers gone askew, demanding jobs that suck the life out of a person. Challenges raising children. Caring for aging parents. The real deal that doesn't get shared on Facebook. And often these troubles are met with encouraging words of "I know what you're going through," or "You should talk to so-and-so, they went through something like that," or just, "I'm sorry that's happening to you."

Plus there are things to celebrate. One classmate opened a tab and let people know to have a drink on him. His explanation? "I've just been so fortunate in my life, and I want to share my good fortune with others." Wow, that's awesome, thank you!

I was speaking with another classmate and asking how life was going and he said, "I love my job, I love my family, I've got good health, I'm about as happy as I can be in my life right now, and I'm so grateful for it." That's the best any of us can ever hope for, and I'm so happy for him.

And sharing those high school memories, oh my! What is it about graduating high school together that becomes a glue that holds people together?

As seniors, my girlfriend Jody and I once had Domino's pizza delivered to the school for lunch. (There were other people who did this with us, I can't remember all of them.) We brought it into the lunch room to eat and the vice principal just about had a conniption, I've never seen that man's face so red. He was a small guy, not very tall or broad, but we got out of there with that pizza pretty quickly. Eventually we got smart and had pizza delivered to Jody's house just across the street. We would run to her house so we wouldn't get caught leaving the school to eat it, then dash back before the bell rang.

My friend Judi recounted spending hours in my basement, listening to music and goofing off. Had Wendy been there I could have told some good stories of a sleepover at her house where she pretended to be sleep-talking but wasn't really, she was just giving us a hard time.

Our class is planning on creating a scholarship fund and at our reunion appointed a committee of people to work on this. That's a pretty amazing legacy that we'll be leaving for future generations of graduates from Sheboygan Falls.

It was a great weekend getting together with my classmates, and I am so grateful for their being in my life, even if it's only every 5 years.

Comparing cute shoes, 25th and 30th reunions (Myself, Kelly and Rachel)

Goofing off.

My Big Small Town

Best service in the city. Go if you need a new eye doctor. 

I woke up in screaming pain one day this past week. I opened my eyes and felt like someone was stabbing a knife directly into my right eye. I could not open it, I could not move my left eye without my right feeling like it was being scraped by sandpaper.

My youngest, God bless her, brought me a cold washcloth and a cup of coffee with cream, just the way I like it. I laid in bed, unable to move my eyes, or move in general without being in pain, for an hour. I patiently waited for 8 a.m. to roll around so I could call my eye doctor for an emergency appointment.

I called and got the office voice mail informing me that on Thursday, of all days, their hours are from noon to 8 p.m. But...there was a phone number to call for urgent care. I called; it was my eye doctor's cell phone.

I left a message and she called me back within 2 minutes. She made arrangements to see me that morning even though the clinic wasn't open.

By the time I arrived the pain had subsided substantially, probably due to the ibuprofen I'd been popping and the lack of eye movement. She confirmed what I suspect, which is that I had somehow scratched my cornea (I don't recommend doing this). It probably began healing overnight, but upon awakening in the morning ripped the healed cells back off my cornea, thus the stabbing pain at that time.

She called in a prescription to the pharmacy for antibiotic drops and gave me directions on how to care for it while it healed. We chatted about our kids; her oldest is in 1st grade, my youngest in 7th, at the same school.

I drove straight to the pharmacy, where I was greeted by Meg, who knew that a prescription had just been called in for me, but there was another waiting for me as well. Psst...I didn't even give her my name, first or last. They just know me there. I'm not sure if it's a good thing that the pharmacy staff knows me that well, but in this situation, it was incredibly reassuring.

I walked out of the store, smiling to myself, thinking about what an amazing small-town service experience I had while living in a major metropolitan city. As I stepped out, I saw my neighbor, an 89-year-old woman who has lived on our street her entire life, waiting at the stop light for the light to turn green. She and I waved to each other, the light turned green, and off she drove, eyes just inches above the dashboard of her large sedan.

Yep, I definitely live in a small town. In a big city.

More Laughter Than Tears

As my dad requested, his memorial service was around the 4th of July in Munising, Michigan. He always loved the 4th, and dearly loved his hometown. He could think of nothing that would be more enjoyable than to have family gather on that holiday to celebrate his life and then enjoy his hometown's holiday offerings. He specifically requested the Corktown bar, as his aunt and uncle had owned it once in the long-distant past.

Kristi and I scanned photos, planned the service, and otherwise worked to get everyone together.

He would have said that we were making too big a deal, he would have demured. And yet, he would have been inwardly pleased at all the hoopla.

Family came together from Arizona, Illinois, Arkansas, Florida and many others places. Classmates came in from downstate ("Lower Michigan" to the non-Yoopers) and Munising itself to pay tribute. His childhood friend, Joe Hase and his wife Barb came to the service as well, which tickled Kristi and I pink, as Joe's name is mentioned frequently in dad's writing as someone who got into a whole lot of trouble with Dad over the years.

As he would have wished, there was more laughter than tears. More stories than sadness. His tales live on in his blog and the hearts and memories of those he told them to.

Kristi and I in front of the Floria window at the United Methodist Church in Munising, MI, purchased by our great-grandma Toot, $5/week until the $100 window was paid off. 

Hugs to Terry from Joe and Barb Hase. 

Terry, Jessie and Tracy at Dad's wake. Yes, he wanted smiles.

Dad's cousin, Jon Floria, and his wife Cynthia. They were such a treat to get to know!

Dad watched over the gathering with a manhattan in front of him, compliments of his wife, Terry. 

The most wonderful part is that all the family came together to honor him. Even the younger generation nieces and nephews, who did not know him the way we did, knew there was something special about him and his ways. He was always genuinely interested in people, easy to talk to because he made you do the talking with his questions of curiosity.

Because of him, this group of people came together, people whose connections to each other may not have otherwise survived the trials of time and distance. New connections were made, to be preserved in more stories, more gatherings and fun.

To the occasion.

Small Town Celebrations

For the first time in many years, our family was not in the Twin Cities for the 4th of July. I wasn't sure how I felt about that -- actually, I know how I felt, I kind of dreaded it. After all, I LOVE our city. On holidays like Independence Day I have my choice of a hundred different festivals, parades, gatherings, fireworks and other things to choose from. Sure, we usually take in just one parade, and just go to one fireworks show, but still, they are amazing.

We would be spending the 4th of July in Tracy, Minnesota, where they don't even have a parade, much less fireworks.

But what Tracy does have is family, and that trumped all those others festivities.

And, after scouring the local paper, I found that a town nearby did have a parade, and so we went. Well, Lindsey, Wayne and I went, Marissa went to the city pool with her Aunt Sherrie because that sounded like more fun than a parade to her.

We left the farm about 20 minutes before the parade was supposed to begin, parked right next to the parade route and picked a spot to stand. That was decidedly easier than going to a parade in the Twin Cities.

The crowd paid their respects to the flag.

The parade began with a military guard carrying the American flag -- everyone who was able stood up to pay their respects. I don't remember people doing that at the Edina parade, although maybe that's because it's so crowded most people are standing up anyway.

Antique fire truck for the city of Tracy, MN.

And then came every fire truck, amublance and rescue vehicle for every small town in the surrounding area. For a while I thought the entire parade would just be emergency vehicles. The Tracy ambulance went by -- Lindsey asked if that was the one that took Grandpa to the hospital the day he died. It probably was; I think the town only has one. So she paid special attention to that one.

Floats, beauty queens, horses, antique cars and tractors slowly made their way down the road, tossing candy the entire way. Each made a turn at the end of the street and that was the end. We practically saw the entire parade again, one vehicle at a time on various streets, as we were leaving town.

Lindsey and Wayne managed to retrieve about 2 plastic cups worth of candy, which was shared with Marissa, who was at Sherrie's house, enjoying the company of Izzy the Dog.

Marissa and Izzy.

Later that afternoon we enjoyed a barbecue at Kathy and Dave's house. Who knew that a bunch of camping chairs in a circle could be the scene of such enjoyment?

Lindsey and I were going to go see fireworks later on (Marissa doesn't like the loud noise of them),  but got into a game of cards with Grandma and Wayne and didn't leave in time. So we turned out the lights and looked out the window, where we could catch small glimpses of them on the horizon. If we were very quiet we could almost hear them.

That was festive enough for us.