Walt Whitman High School Class of 1968

Offsite Links

Walt Whitman High School Class of 1968 - It's Good To Be Seen

First Name:	*
Last Name:	*
Email Address:
Title:	*
Body:	<i><i>It was the most intense and fascinating 5 days of my nearly 60 year life. I was returning to my hometown in South Huntington, New York. My friend, Harry, who I have known for 50 years invited me to stay at his home. From the time Harry picked me up, our rollercoaster ride began. New York steak, White Castle cheeseburgers, even pizza from Grimaldi's in the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge, every one of my taste buds was satiated. I had returned home for the first time in 16 years to eat. Thursday night was the beginning of three days of meeting the classmates I hadn't seen in 40 years. Bring on the dancing girls (they would show up for the finale). Thursday My best pal Harry is on the Reunion Committee, so I tag along for their final meeting. Bobby Z the committee chair says to Harry, 'I am not feeding Steve.' The committee has gathered for a pre-meal tasting. Several '68 grads have arrived early and most generously, Bobby Z has a change of heart. He feeds all of us. About 15-20 of us dine in the hotel, drink wine and begin the cascades of laughter which defines us as a group. Kim- I love making her laugh. Her brother has ALS and laughter is prescribed therapy. Chris-Moved to California as I have and seems genuinely delighted to be here. Barbara (nicknamed Pidgeon)- I dated her sister (I liked dating the seniors younger sisters). Pidge has come by way of Louisville, Kentucky (Several of our grads live in Louisville, Colorado, same spelling but pronounced 'Lewisville'). Stephanie arrives after dinner. She lives in Ft. Lauderdale, but wants out. We rotate telling stories and the laughter from the room we have retired to is explosive. Matt joins the group (Louisville, Co) and his signature line will become our weekend motto. It seemed everyome who met Matt again had this to say: 'Matt, it is good to see you.' Matt, in his own inimical style, would wrinkle his moustache and reply: 'It's good to be seen.' Friday Night Our cocktail party is open to all classes. IT won't be until Saturday night that we wear nametags with photo ID (our 1968 yearbook photo). This makes for confusion as we fumble with conversations and who's who or whom. But it forces us to ask questions and not wait for our old friends to come to us. Chris L keeps yelling 'Oh my God!' each time she recognizes someone from many years ago. Many of us have changed to the point of zero recognition. Others look gracefully older as if their 1968 photo was compter aged. Tim was my 6th grade comedy tag team member. TIm went to another high school after 11th grade. Friday night, Tim and Steve, squirreled into a corner and caught up on the past 40 years. Saturday From the time i hit the dance floor to the rocking finale 'Last Dance,' my feet never touched the ground. How many 68 ladies did I share the dance floor with? There was Susie, Jamie, Val, Pat, Trudy, Joanne, Carol, Lorraine J., Lorraine C., Chris L., Chris F (when she was allowed to leave Gary's side), Pidgeon, Cheryl, and I apoligize after I began to lose count. It took me 40 years to return to my roots. 40 years to come back to kids, yes kids, I shared 12 years of my life with. We began in 1956 as first graders being housed in a holding center (Depot Road School). Until the school district could catch up with the baby boomers, feverishly building elementary schools. In 1964, we became the first 9th grade class to attend our high school. In 1968, we became the first high school class to lose leaders of the staure of Martin Luther King and RFK within 60 days of each other. Our 1968 class is a class of firsts. I love the Boys of Spring (seven of eight starting seniors returned) who shared the baseball diamond with me. But I loved the ladies of 1968! That is why when I reached the dance floor, I just couldn't leave. Sue and I pogo sticked (I made it up like many of my dance moves). I don't know if Sue knew what I was doing, but the smile frozen on her face was worth coming home again. So thank you the ladies of the Class of 1968. You are the prettiest, wittiest and most amazing bunch of women ever collected in one's graduating class and we males are fortunate that you happened to be in ours. Those who ended the night with Donna Summer's 'Last Dance,' singing as loud as our already hoarse voices could manage, know how truly special this evening was. I loved my years at Whitman and I am not shy to admit it. The fresh memories we made together this weekend makes our collective experience that much better. So I toast the Class of 1968, Walt Whitman High School. The Best of Classes we have ever known. </i> Heeeyyyyy Steve, that 'strange man on the porch'! LOL After 2 years of e-mails and endless hours on the phone, we finally really reconnected!! The W/E was out of this world and tomorrow is the WWHS Hall of Fame Induction...GO WILDCATS!! Harry & I will keep ya posted! Love ya, my friend! Lorraine</i> *
Attach File:
Verification:	What is the last letter in the word "car"?

	To obtain a site like this for your class visit www.ourclassonline.com. [Administration]
	Copyright Web Portal People, LLC. 2024 - Maker of class reunion & family websites. All rights reserved.