Carolyn
J. Rose
Recently
I received an invitation to return to Onteora Central High School in
Boiceville, New York, and participate in the Golden Walk on graduation night.
My
first reaction was, “Huh? 50 Years? That’s not right. I haven’t been out of
high school for 50 years!”
But,
yes, I have.
Fifty
years ago this month I sweated with my classmates on a sunny slope in front of
the school. The group photo shows us stuffed into gray chorus robes, caps on
our heads, smiles on our faces. Some smiles seem serious, others goofy, others
tinged with fear.
We were, after all, going out into the wide world.
We were, after all, going out into the wide world.
And, like now, it was a scary world. My high school years were marked by the Cuban Missile Crisis, President Kennedy’s assassination, the Berlin Wall, the publication of Silent Spring, civil rights marches and murders, the beginning of Nelson Mandela’s prison term, and growing concern about how deep we’d be sucked into the conflict in Vietnam.
I
studied that graduation picture but, even with a magnifying glass, couldn’t
make out which of the girls with brown hair was me. Caps shade our eyes, our
images are tiny, and I have no memory of which row I was in, who I stood
beside, and whether I left my glasses on.
I
heard from a classmate I’ve been close to since we survived a second-grade
teacher who, in our opinion, tortured more than taught us. She’s going, and
hoping to persuade another long-time friend to come along.
For
a day or so I was almost nostalgic enough to book a flight and join them for
the walk and the festivities to follow. Then I put the idea aside. Not this
year. Maybe next.
Before
I deleted the invitation, I read it one more time and saw participants would
meet at the loading dock before the ceremony. I’ve always thought of my high
school as a utilitarian brick building. Functional. Not fancy. The loading dock
was probably the most functional and least attractive area.
And
yet, it seems right that those taking the Golden Walk will meet there. High
school graduation was, after all, the event that moved us from the classroom
and onto the loading dock for the lives we’d lead.