In a recent Time magazine article about high school experiences, Annie Murphy Paul quoted Kurt Vonnegut’s retelling what a classmate said about life:

“You all of a sudden realize that you are being ruled by people you went to high school with. . .You all of a sudden catch on that life is nothing but high school.”

I laughed out loud, because I had just gotten back from my 50^th high school reunion.

At Anchorage High School, where I graduated in 1961, I had the English teacher whose reputation preceded him, Mr. Crouch, Wendell Crouch, and I’m thankful I had him. He made us write a lot, and he graded it all. I walked softly and did what he assigned.

One paper I kept for decades, but I can’t find it now. In a lapse, I cleaned up, and I think I finally threw it away. I wish I could remember his wry comments on it, but I think I’ve repressed it. Before I admit what I’m going to reveal about that paper, let me say that because of Mr. Crouch, I placed in a high school poetry contest. I re-read the poem, and believe me, it’s abysmal. High schoolers are, among a lot of things, pretty maudlin, silly creatures. I’m not reprinting it.

The paper I wrote was on friendship; the assignment may have been to write on Aristotle’s ideas about friendship. In any case, that was the angle I took, even though I can’t remember the whole title.

But do I ever remember the first part of the title.

It went, “Fiendship: . . .” I don’t remember the words following the colon. And let me admit here that not once did I ever type the word as anything else but “fiendship.” It was NOT a Freudian slip, only bad, consistent typos, over and over and over.

Unsurprisingly, Aristotle has a lot to say about friendship, but most of it now seems very high-minded; his philosophical musings, however, explain why “Fiendship” wasn’t a Freudian slip. A nice, quotable, thing he says in Nicomachaen Ethics asserts that it is necessary for us to have friends, “for without friends no one would choose to live. . . .” He then says, “. . . we praise those who love their friends, and it is thought to be a fine thing to have many friends. . . .”

Yes, I was very lucky to have had a lot of friends – not fiends – in high school. And, no, I don’t sit around reading Aristotle.

Mystery Solved

During the two-year run-up to the June 17, 2011, 50^th Reunion, I worked electronically, — as did others — with committee members living in Anchorage and cities across the U.S. Along the way I re-friended some classmates, got re-acquainted with classmates I had known less well, and made new friends with others I had not known. I cruised up The Inside Passage with classmates who had been good friends in high school but whom I had not seen in decades, as well as with little- or not-known classmates.

Why was it so easy to love reconnecting with these long-ago classmates? We hugged, kissed, laughed, and made toasts together; all the while I wondered if they really recognized me. How could they? I didn’t recognize myself.

Toasting ourselves on the cruise ship

That question kept niggling at my mind. What’s the connection with classmates? What is this lure reunions have, so strong that going to them has created this huge business in America?

The answer stared me in my wrinkled face, the one I hardly knew in the mirror: “Hey, self, it’s the FRIENDS, the friendships, stupid.”

But I kept wondering: What made those friendships so strong, so meaningful? Then I remembered a book I had read when I was searching for some explanations for my daughter’s hideous drug addictions that so affected mine and my family’s lives. I had pulled it off the shelf again when our granddaughter, our daughter’s child, became ours to love and raise and I needed information on child development.

I grabbed it again after the reunion: Judith Rich Harris’s The Nurture Assumption: Why Children Turn Out the Way They Do.

In it she very convincingly argues her theory: “that children [elementary and junior high ages] identify with a group consisting of their peers, that they tailor their behavior to the norms of their group, and that groups contrast themselves with other groups and adopt different norms.”

Then, BINGO, in high school, as adolescents, we put all we’ve learned from our little peers to use with our big peers. This is how and when teenagers become themselves, who they are and will be. For good or ill, like it or not.

Your peers, your friends, are your biggest influence; they help form who you are then and become later.

The Way We Were is Now

Her theory certainly explains “peer pressure.” It only follows that it’s wanting to do and to behave and to dress and to think and to feel in ways that are meaningful to and help define your group.

Were we different or unusual? As the AHS Senior Class of 1961, probably. We were a huge, diverse group: children of native-born or first generation Alaskans, of U.S. Air Force or U.S. Army personnel, of civilians working with the military, or of adventurers, entrepreneurs, and fortune-seekers; children of the Cold War living with the very real threat of nuclear attack. The DEW Line (Defense Early Warning system of radars), which was the first line of defense against the Soviet threat, drew many families to the state. Most classmates watched Alaska become the 49^th state and perhaps even watched President Dwight D. Eisenhower doff his hat to the crowds at the celebratory parade down 4^th Avenue.

This class marked the transition from the comfort of the 1950s to the upheavals to come in the 1960s. We represented the promise of the future for Anchorage and a new state and what each would become. Then we scattered to places all over the globe.

4th Ave. downtown Anchorage, then and now

Unusual or different as individuals? Maybe, maybe not. The point is, we were our very own peer group; together we tried ourselves on to see who we were; we needed to bounce ourselves off each other – our hair, our shoes, our personalities – to grow up. We needed each other during that critical time.

And so, I thank my AHS Senior Class of ’61 classmates, all of them. I thank my close friends, my re-friends, my new friends, and those I haven’t seen since then – all those I shared that time, the 20^th reunion, the 30^th reunion, and the 50^th reunion with. Thank you. Thank you.

Commence

The Time article’s author said she was flabbergasted when her high school principal invited her to give a recent commencement address to graduating seniors. I don’t think she had a great time back then.

Amazingly, our 1961 AHS principal, Mr. Joe Montgomery, was able, at 93, to attend our reunion’s sock hop. As he spoke to us from his chair, we all felt how special a moment it was.

AHS 1961 principal Mr. Joe Montgomery, at the 50th Reunion Sock Hop

If Mr. Montgomery were to call and ask me to address a commencement, here’s what I would say to the grads:

“Real life is high school. Don’t be hangin’ around with no un-fun, un-interesting group. There’s too much at stake, like your identity. And wanting to come back to your 50^th reunion. Now, throw your caps high, get outta your robes, and get outta here. Thank you.”

Thank you, AHS Senior Class of ’61.

KTVA CBS channel 11 in Anchorage reported on the reunion. View the spot from here; click on the video.

Also on that same page is an article I placed in Alaska Airlines Magazine after the AHS Class of ‘61 20th Reunion.

Summertime! Water fun, weddings, backyard cookouts, trips to the mountains, fireflies, even noctilucent clouds (which you can find out about at www.spaceweather.com). And graduation, which means U.S. high schools and colleges putting gazillions of seniors out on the streets.

It’s also the season for one of America’s great pastimes – no, not baseball. Reunions.

Reunions come in all kinds, sizes, and shapes — like school classes, families, all kinds of military gatherings including fighter pilot aces, athletes celebrating a special win. Name a meaningful past event or cohorts; people will get together.

Reunions are also big business in America and generate tons of summertime spending; I’ll do my part in a few days to stimulate the economy by contributing more than my share to this business segment.

Yet, there’s a major reason to go, a reason based on some little-known research. That secret will be revealed at the end of the post.

AHS Senior Class of ‘61

I first heard the silly joke, “What’s the difference between senior pictures and pictures of seniors?” when my father told me he was going to his 50^th high school reunion. I thought it was way over the top back then. (The answer to that stupid joke will be at the bottom of this post.)

Some people would rather be shot at dawn than have to attend their class reunion.

Well, I’m risking it all and going to mine. In Anchorage. That’s Anchorage, Alaska. By way of the Inside Passage on Royal Caribbean’s Radiance of the Seas, a cruise put together by a few classmates. There will be about 30-plus of us on board. I haven’t seen these classmates in 20 years, since our 30^th reunion.

I leave Thursday to get on board. I’ve sent my money in. If I drop dead before next Thursday, well, I won’t live to regret it.

We will join lots of other classmates Friday, June 17, at (West) Anchorage High School, to begin our 50^th Reunion. Over the top, alright.

We’ve had a lot of fun working on this Reunion for two years, some of us communicating electronically with the core committee in Anchorage. The work shows in the Web page, at www.ahs61.com.

A few days ago with a temperature here in Tuscaloosa at 101 degrees and my AC merely chugging along, I went to Belk to continue my spending by getting a few things. I couldn’t find them.

“Where are the socks?” I asked a couple of salespeople.

They were speechless, looking at me like I was a mental case. “I’m going to Alaska!” I added.

“Oh! They’re over there,” they replied.

Gravity Happens

Why — looking like I look, missing all the opportunities for success I’ve missed, feeling totally inferior, not remembering stuff I should remember, having just had “procedures” I don’t want to discuss – why would I put myself through a REUNION? Yes, there’s that secret reason to be revealed at the end. But what about the CONCERNS?

Here’s my take on the CONCERNS:

Many had a tough time in high school. Here’s what I say to that: Who didn’t? We were teenagers. Give me a teenager who didn’t have a tough time and I’ll give you a corpse. Teenagers and psychopaths and sociopaths probably share many personality traits.

Many grownups still feel the sting of real or perceived affronts to their esteem. Here’s what I say to that: Who doesn’t? And let me say right here: If I committed an affront to any of my high school peers, I am most sorry for it. My excuse is that like everyone in high school, I was insane and busy dealing with the affronts aimed at me.

Regarding having suffered from an inferiority complex. Ha! This is what I say to that: I still am. Descartes should have said, “I feel inferior; therefore, I am.”

Many seniors don’t recognize the person in the mirror. I don’t, and I’m sure no one will recognize me. It’s all about gravity, pounds, bad hair color, baldness, wrinkles, dysfunctional knees and sexual prowess, bags, walkers, and whatever else we’ve added to our lives. Here’s what I say to that: It’s true. Most people won’t recognize you anymore than you’ll recognize them.

Get over it; the name tags will be HUGE.

Some will fear scorn for their fuzzy or no “accomplishments.” Here’s what I say to that: As long as we’re breathing, we’ll all continue to have to re-start our lives – for the zillionth time. I just had to re-start mine three years ago when my husband (miraculously, of 40 years) and I petitioned for and adopted our 18-month-old granddaughter.

We ALL remember envying other classmates’ looks, brains, boobs or other endowments, status in the “in crowd,” athletic heroics, scores on the SAT test, and a zillion other things. Here’s what I say to that: I envied Teresa Hanson’s pink Ford Victoria convertible. And Ginger Harris’s confidence. And Tom Kelly’s SAT scores. There, I’ve said it. But I’m going to attend anyway.

No Regrets

So we will come together for our 50^th high school reunion – because we CAN. We’ve been given the gift of surviving long enough to have this opportunity. Seeing noctilucent clouds will just be gravy.

Those who will see their close friends, those who didn’t know each other, those who only knew each other as acquaintances – we all share this singular opportunity. All of us shared that one moment when the AHS door opened graduation night for us to begin our journey to adulthood. We all helped each other get to that point, for good or ill.

The AHS Senior Class Prom, 1961. Both the King and Queen, sitting in the chairs, will be at our 50th High School Reunion.

And finally, the main reason, a best kept secret revealed in a New York Times piece two years ago:

“In general, the role of friendship in our lives isn’t terribly well appreciated,” said Rebecca G. Adams, a professor of sociology at the University of North Carolina, Greensboro. “There is just scads of stuff on families and marriage, but very little on friendship. It baffles me. Friendship has a bigger impact on our psychological well-being than family relationships.”

ANSWER TO THE OPENING QUESTION:

As far as we, the AHS Class of ’61, are concerned, there’s NO DIFFERENCE between senior pictures and pictures of seniors

Seeing JFK on the news recently brought back a memory that is still so vivid it’s hard to believe it happened a half-century ago! The date was September 3, 1960, and the place was the Anchorage Westward Hotel. The previous evening, John F. Kennedy had given the kick-off address for his Presidential campaign at the Edgewater Dining Room on the Seward Highway. As editor-in-chief of the Eagle’s Cry, I’d received permission to attend JFK’s press conference in the Chart Room.

Shortly before the press conference began, I was standing by an elevator in the Westward. The elevator doors opened and out stepped John F. Kennedy! Perhaps the red wool suit I wore caught his attention—or maybe it was because I was the youngest person in the vicinity. At any rate, he walked straight toward me, greeted me and shook my hand! What an awesome start to the day!

Local reporters and photographers, representatives of major radio and television networks, and national magazine and newspaper writers all attended the press conference. This was truly the big time! It was the day when notes were taken on paper  notepads…not the electronic gadgets of today. Action moved quickly as reporters fired off their questions. I remember the purposeful activity, the busy excitement, and the abruptness with which the press conference ended.

Bob Bartlett stands out in my mind as a man who was really attuned to young people. Sen. Bartlett took me under his wing that morning after my Dad introduced me to him. I had a feeling of confidence that came from sitting beside Sen. Bartlett during the press conference. And when it was over, he immediately escorted me to JFK so I could ask questions of my own!

Fifty years may have dimmed our memories, but we all carry special moments from our days at old Anchorage High! If you have a remembrance you’d like to share but need to jump-start it, contact me at bpjensen@alaska.net. Perhaps I can find an Eagle’s Cry article that  will help to jog your memory!

My story appeared in the first Eagle’s Cry of the school year with the photo below that was taken by an Anchorage Times photographer.

Pat Norton talks with JFK following his press conference at the Chart Room Sep. 3, 1960.

When you’re 16 and shy (which is why your class voted you the “quietest” when you were 17), screwing up the courage to ask a girl to the Junior Prom (which also happens to be the first time you’ve asked a girl out in high school) is a monumental event.  I believe it was the Fall of 1959 in Anchorage, and I was determined that I was going to ask someone who I really cared about–no way was I going to “play it safe.”

One morning in the hallway of AHS, more than two months ahead of the event, I found myself standing beside Ginger Harris and popping the the most difficult question I had asked to that point in my young life–“would you like to go to the Junior Prom with me?”  I may have been on pins and needles when I asked the question; but the emotion I experienced when she said “yes” was a mixture of extreme gratification and pure terror–“Yes?!  Oh my gawd, she said yes!”

You have to understand that the family (one and only) car was a 4-door 1953 Plymouth sedan with dusty gray seats and body paint  a decidedly worn shade of plain blue–much less sexy than a Volkswagen beetle.  It was the kind of car in which my daughters would have asked me to drop them off a block from school to avoid embarrassment (not unlike the tacky, khaki van I actually drove them in during their high school years).   I had just committed to squire the high school girl of my dreams to a fancy formal dance in a pumpkin (or worse), and the humiliation would be all mine!

Failing to think of a more creative solution like renting a limo (my meager funds in those times were derived from vocational pursuits like babysitting), I devised the brilliant plan of ordering seat covers from Fingerhut (a mail order company which I’m sure you’ll all remember–well ahead of its time).  Compared to buying a Red Ryder BB gun, it was like “shooting my eye out.”

The seatcovers arrived about two weeks before the Junior Prom–shiny vinyl in blue and white, and I promptly installed them, proud of myself for having accomplished such a feat at the same time that my friends were regularly impressing upon me how unhandy and inefficient I was (hence their nickname for me–“Didley”).  Believing my reputation was now intact, I overlooked the fact that riding on those seats in the late Fall or early winter in Alaska would be like sleeping on a bed in an ice hotel.

My date with Ginger to the Junior Prom was wonderful.  I learned how gracious and lovely a 16 year old girl could be.  Everyone should be so lucky on a first high school date.

It’s a blessing to still know Ginger after over 50 years, and count her a life-long friend.  There’s no better reason for me to plan on attending our 50th reunion–I’ll ask her to dance, and think of the lovely girl (now a beautiful woman) who set a timid boy at such ease on their date to the Junior Prom.