Greetings from Planet Reunion

Reunions are an odd place to be, maybe because high school is a strange planet of origin. A reunion of an uneven year like 45 doesn’t boast the pizzazz drawing power of a 20 or 30 or 40 and pales in luster to the Silver Anniversary coming up in five years. Yet I felt drawn to attend a reunion of the class of 1971, Houston Spring Branch, a legendary Texas high school that made it into Dan Jenkin’s novel and movie, “Semi Tough” as the state championship rival to Billy Clyde Puckett’s Fort Worth Pascal.

The physical building of SBHS has been closed for years and only lives in the hearts and minds of those who stared as awed freshmen at the 9 foot tall white Kodiak Bear in the main hallway.

In researching the night’s conversations, I think I came the farthest, living in Nashville now but flying in from Jacksonville where my family dumped me at the airport on their way back from our Florida vacation. I could easily have skipped out due to expense, timing and long distance. But I don’t think I would have found any joy in missing out.

Reunions are increasingly about the missing for me as the years go by. There are those we graduated with who I always hope will come like my best friend from back in the day, Dale Baggett, who lives far away in Virginia or the high school/college girlfriend, Gail Knust, who lives in Spring Branch, Tx but never attends due to some high school bad taste that lingers from nearly a half century ago.

Even stronger as a motivator to attend is the missing of those who made the long remembrance list sent out by the committee. I thought about another good friend, Larry Robertson, who I enjoyed seeing at the 20/30/40 but knew he wasn’t going to be there this time. I was glad I got to spend some time with him the summer before he passed. When we hugged for the last time we both knew he wouldn’t make the 45th.

Reunions are also about reconnecting. I didn’t make the 10th because I had just moved to Tennessee, so the first exposure I had to reunions was at the Friday night reception for the 20th at a Westheimer glitz bar. I was talking to a group of guys, none of whom I recognized and all too far away to read name tags written in that tiny obscure reunion font. I made the comment someone I’d like to see was Randall Loving, who was a good friend in high school but had been lost to me for 20 years.

A guy with thinning silvering hair stepped forward and said, “I’m Randall Loving.” I took a closer look and had to exclaim, “Darned if you’re not.” Since that reintroduction, we’ve shared some famous and infamous reunion times and I was even in his wedding to cheerleader Becky Mercer sometime between reunions 35 & 40. Becky was working last night and so Randall and I hung out, enjoying each others company again though much subdued from past years.

Reunions are just as awkward as high school but in a different way. You happen upon someone and their name or picture on the tag rings not a bell and you can tell from their face you’re not registering either. What follows is an exercise in conversational pointers, “Family, Occupation, Recreation & Money” trying to gain some traction. In the end, you admit neither remembers the other but it’s great we both came.

Not all conversations were awkward. Danny Lee introduced me to his wife as someone who could verify what a great basketball player he had been. He was able to quote an article I’d written as a fledgling sportswriter in a 1971 edition of "The Bear Facts" about a game he scored 41 points and came out of Rusty Bourquien’s shadow. I verified the authenticity of his achievement, but told her I remembered Danny personally as a pitcher, because at 6 foot 6 he seemed to release the ball right in front of your face and then it was by for a strike.

I also got to tell Sandra Bretting Pearson I had worked with her dad on one of my summer jobs during college in a rubber and plastics plant. She had never known that fact, so that means he never passed on my compliment that Mr. Bretting, like Mrs. Brown, had a lovely daughter. He still does.

The venues change over the years, from the Houston Galleria area hotel ballroom where everyone dressed to impress for the 20th to the Redneck Country Club of the 45th where everyone dressed appropriately and enjoyed the Johnny Cash impersonator entertaining in another part of the venue. I think the group is just getting harder to impress as the years go by and dresses more comfortably.

A silver anniversary looms in five years. Those of us who make it will be 68 and those who don’t will be missed. There is really only one good reason to miss and that’s for a prior engagement with the great reunion in the sky. Time, long distance and residual hard feelings aren’t enough of an excuse.

No matter what one may be now or have done in their life, no matter where we call home, we are all Spring Branch Bears. Once a Bear, always a Bear. Make a resolution to attend the 50th Reunion.