My friend Suzanne (Rucker) is coming up from Lubbock Texas today.  It’s a long drive.  She will stay all night and tomorrow we will drive the rest of the way to Pryor together.  We did that two years ago. She told all the people on her list (the to-call-list to remind them that we eat together on Friday before the reunion on Saturday) and told them that if she can get to Pryor from Lubbock that surely they could make the effort to come.  

The two of us have done this for years because we like to see the people we went to high school with.  But for some of them, it doesn’t seem to mean as much.  Some of them I don’t even remember if I had a class with them.  But the thing is, all of us lived through the 40’s and remember the same things.  The town, the food and gas stamps, the shortages of everything, the war in Europe, the people who were our teachers.  The ones we liked, the ones we didn’t.  The high school building that burned down.  All of those things are gone now--and unless you are in your 80’s you would have no idea what that felt like.

Memories are strange things. Some of us like them. Some of us don’t.