 The Grump's Page
"I don't care about my class!"
So you got to whs1964.org by mistake when Google played an April Fool's joke on you?
Or you came here because thought this page might be about you? Well maybe it is . . .
Why should I care about my class, after all:
I've heard all of Mr. Kelley's jokes. Think so? Check here.
Maybe you feel guilty because:
- You never turned in that final term paper for Mr. Hamilton?
- You never returned your cap and gown?
- You tortured a classmate or two? Or you still feel angry about those jerks who wouldn't
leave you alone in class?
Hey, it's been 40 years. Give it up!
Grudges, feuds, hard feelings have gone the way of the old
cafeteria. (See here.)
There's a satellite dish on the roof of WHS now!
Everyone's class picture is in black & white, we're all a little grayer, older and
maybe a bit wiser.
Remember that people now dispersed all over the country (and at least two in Canada!)
have the very same Hourglass yearbok that you have. And some of the same memories
snapshotted in time.
Then sometimes we hear replies like this:
"We do get notices sometimes of class reunions but we could care less.
They have had a representative stop in and tell us of a 20th or 30th get
together but we are not interested. I feel that these people were not my friends then
and they are not my friends now. It was just a school system, required by law, that I
had to do and I could see the necessity in it, especially now, but there was no
camaraderie. These people were not my chums."
To me this seems more than a bit cynical. There are dozens of
classmates whose names I barely remember, even when I see them in the yearbook. There
are some I disliked because of their general bahavior, their expressed values, or
because they seemed not to like me. Yet there are also some who I worked with on projects in
or out of school, who I hung out with, ate lunch with, sat beside in class. And some who I
regret our paths having diverged. But such is life.
Let bygones be bygones, and stop trying to deny our common history, for
indeed it is writ in stone. What you remember is the way it was, not the way things are now.
Everyone remembers their high school days a little differently, each of us recalls a spotlight on a
different part of the stage. Share these memories now, and you may just find yourself surprised at
how others saw events.
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