It’s the swelter of summer, that time for plunges in the pool, BBQs and all sorts of other outdoor activities. This time of year also marks the date for our annual NHHS all class picnic, a tradition that’s been taking place since prehistoric times.
For those of you who attended the picnic in June, you’ll remember that last year’s bash was a bit like going to Disneyland. My brother Jack was at the helm of the event, bringing together hoards of his alumni into a swarm of activity. Many attendees still lived in and around Studio City, whereas several have made their marks elsewhere, returning to tell their tales.
This year’s attendance was a bit sparse, but still, for those of us who attended, it marked another milestone of Huskies memories, providing a casual backdrop for convivial conversation.
Our pal Doug Dunlap got the festivities going with a BBQ at his house the previous night. Many of us have been buddies on Facebook, so thankfully, it was easy to recognize everyone. The gathering was a far cry from the previous year when we hosted our own mini-reunion at the Odyssey Restaurant where we had to play “guess who” over our glasses of Chardonnay. Now that was scary!
As Doug’s BBQ progressed, we toasted to our class, and then broke out into cheers as we relayed our various challenges.
“Raise your hand if you have high cholesterol!”
“How many of you are bionic with your plates and screws?”
“Any stents among us?”
Our health challenges are very real, but thankfully, we tried to view them with a sense of humor, and levity. We all have to soldier on. Many of my pals are now dealing with the challenges of aging parents, whereas some of us have already lost our parents, and have officially become orphans.
The following day, most of us also attended the picnic, along with many from the previous year. Most of us made a trip into the cafeteria to pore over our yearbooks, with the surprise and shock of anyone visiting memories from 40 years ago.
“Remember those love beads?”
“Right, I still have mine, or did I get them in New Orleans? I can’t remember…”
Again, we had a lively band to keep the music memories alive, along with the requisite hotdogs, hamburgers and other picnic fare.
Some of us found memories in the halls to be a bit unsettling. Personally, I found the toilet paper on the ceilings of the women’s restroom to be a comforting sight.
I think my wad from 1971 was still there.