All the adults in this picture were little kids in Highlands Elementary School, my friends 60 years ago. (Photo/Tapani Talo)
Woody Allen taught me years ago that “80 percent of success is just showing up.” So I did last October, to attend the White Plains High School class of 1974’s 50th reunion. Let’s just say this straightaway. It was a blast, just like the two others I attended, the 35th and 40th reunions.
The 50th was so well staged in an event center on North Broadway in White Plains close to end of the route our high school band marched during the annual Memorial Day parade. About 90 of us showed up for the reunion, which was organized and managed by Pat Takahashi and Ed Weil. Thank you Pat and Ed for making it such a lovely and memorable evening.
Fifty years is a long time, a lifetime actually. And while I’m as capable of reminiscing as anyone, I spent scant time that evening looking backward a half century. Those stories were already told in the faces and voices I so easily recognized. I wanted to know the ‘now,’ what the women and men I knew so well as girls and boys had become. Who were they? What had they done with their time?
It turned out my classmates set high goals, and worked hard and persistently to achieve them. People married well and have loving children and grandchildren. Among the group was the director of the zoo and a curator for the symphony in Seattle, a Superior Court judge in California, a nuclear engineer in New England, and all manner of professionals — teachers, lawyers, business owners, consultants. Their energy and optimism, their style, were clear indicators they’d taken care of themselves.
Before deciding to attend I already knew that 50th reunions have a purpose, a defined institutional role to draw people and their communities a bit closer, even for a few hours. Ours did that. I learned, in addition, that 50th reunions also summon formidable private and personal reserves, like tapping a deep mine of silver and gold, of accountability for my own life.
I’ve reached that space where much of what I wanted to accomplish has been fulfilled, and most of what I wanted to do has been done. I’m still ambitious. But I’m also happy. I’m content. I’m fortunate. That underlying message was shared, a unifying emotional understanding by so many of the class of 1974 that attended. People said they were generally pleased by how their lives unfolded.
After I returned to my hotel I thought about that. I concluded that the reunion’s most important virtue was this: it helped confirm that the reason for a good bit of my life’s richness and the productive lives of my friends is where we started. The 12 years we spent together sitting in classrooms of the public schools of White Plains, New York.
— Keith Schneider
Keith Schneider penned an article that’s a real heart-tugger, stirring up a mix of melancholy and get-up-and-go spirit. Missed out on a top-notch gathering, sending a virtual salute to Pat Takahashi and Ed Weil. It’s a letdown not being there, but it’s only added zest to my mission to make every moment of my “dash” matter.
Reflecting on the class of ’74, it’s like revisiting a band of go-getters with stars in their eyes. Thankful for the digital age that keeps the threads of connection woven, even if it’s just through the occasional photo or post. Yet, Keith’s reflections pushed me to dig deeper, to really look within.
Life’s lobbed its fair share of curveballs, especially as the milestone of our 50th reunion approached. But I’ve always been the type to see the glass as half full. Challenge my ability, and I’ll prove you wrong—it’s practically in my genes.
Take, for example, my high school guidance counselor’s lack of faith, or more recently, being written off as beyond hope of independence. Both times, I defied the odds, a testament to determination being one of my superpowers, chosen at life’s many crossroads.
Why spill these beans? Because, while many classmates have made their mark, living lives rich with achievement and joy, it’s important to remember those who’ve left us too soon or whose journeys took different paths. Their impacts, though perhaps quieter, are no less significant.
We’re all about chasing dreams, making our voices heard, and living our best lives as we edge towards retirement and whatever adventures lie ahead. Here’s to remembering those taken too soon, making wise choices, and living a life that truly counts.
Big thanks to Keith for sparking such thoughtful introspection. And a round of applause for the class of ’74—what a journey it’s been!