Please join us at Central Catholic High School, May 18th, 2045,
for the 30th year reunion of GICC'S class of 2015.
Joe Krajicek drove up the circle drive and braked in front of his old school. Looking up through the windshield, he studied the familiar doors and concrete benches.
"Here it is," he said to the lovely wife beside him. "Central Catholic High School - my old stomping grounds." Thirty years was really nothing at all, he understood in a flash. The flag, the benches, and The Ten Commandments lining the path brought it all back - his father's massive stroke, his good mother's exhaustion, his own confusion. "Let's go in," he finally opened the car door.
In another door on the west side of the building, Youhanna Ghaifan was ushering his own little family inside. The old hallway still smelled like floor wax and active children, Youhanna thought. Thirty years, he shook his head. Where had they gone?
Down the hallway, lounging in front of their old religion room, were four old friends - Levi Cornwell, Harry Heidelk, Christian Gappa and Dillon Rork. Levi and Harry were almost completely bald, but Christian looked the long time Californian he was, bronzed and fit. Dillon was bigger and grayer, but when he smiled, he was the same kid Youhanna remembered so well.
"Yo!" Levi crowed. They greeted each other with vigorous back claps and loud insults. "You been eating well!" Levi patted the big man's belly. "Where'd that lean, mean teenager go?"
Youhanna rubbed Levi's head. "Same place as your hair!"
He turned to Dillon and mockingly punched him. "You old traitor!"
Dillon grinned. "I was tempted to drive to the other side of town for the Northwest reunion," he said. "But I figured you losers needed me."
Youhanna introduced his wife, a petite, beautiful woman who shyly offered her hand to the four men. "I'm Denise!" she smiled pleasantly.
"How are my godchildren!" Harry threw his arms around Youhanna's three sweet girls, 16, 12 and 8, who all giggled. He lifted the youngest girl high in the air, and she squealed in delight.
Joe Krajcek and his wife appeared around the corner by the old school office just then, and once again, loud greetings filled the hallway. Joe introduced his wife to his classmates, and at last the group headed toward the gym for their reunion festivities.
Memories assailed them as they made their way down the hallway toward the old senior lockers and the cafeteria. The same beige and red tiles lined the floors. They were dipped and scuffed from the thousands and thousands of feet treading over them year in and year out for the last 90 years.
Examining his old locker, the group was shocked to see, was their old friend Casey Brown. His hair was still thick and perfect as was his manicured silk shirt and the shine of chains around his neck.
"Casey!" his classmates called out. There was more back clapping as Casey joined the group.
"You remember me talking about Casey Brown!" Youhanna said to his wife and daughters.
As they progressed down the hall, they were suddenly aware of a small, attractive woman with fading red hair and twinkling blue eyes making a beeline for them. Her tall husband, with the exact shade of faded red hair, was trying desperately to watch two small, precocious red-haired boys who were wildly chasing a columbia blue balloon.
"Alyssa Kowalski!" the men all shouted in unison.
She smiled sweetly, all but ignoring the roar of the little ginger boys behind her who were severely testing the patience of her long-suffering husband.
"Our grandsons," she rolled her eyes at her classmates. "Have you seen the other girls?"
"Heigh Ho!" a raucous voice instantly called behind them, and a vivacious, blonde, middle-aged woman clattered to them in spiked heels and threw her arms around them. The men glanced at each other in bewilderment.
"It's ME!" she laughed. "Lexi Kleint!"
Christian's jaw dropped. "Lexi?"
She cackled and shoved him. "You don't recognize me!" she laughed in wild hilarity. "Are you blind in your old age?"
Behind her, a bit more quietly, were Cassie Westwood, a tall, stunning beauty, and Mariah Martinez, with the same big dewy brown eyes and heartfelt smile they all remembered so well.
"Man!" Christian breathed. "You four girls are lookin' good!"
Harry whispered to him. "Put your tongue back in your mouth, Romeo. They're all married."
Pausing in the hall, they listened in fascination as Lexi described her job as a motivational speaker. Cassie and Mariah both managed successful businesses and still raised their families, and Alyssa was a marriage and family therapist.
The loudspeaker suddenly crackled to life. "Will the class of 2015 and their families please assemble in the Howard Schumann Memorial Gym for the reunion festivities, please?"
Alyssa's husband chased down two red-haired boys and one blue balloon, and the ever growing group quickened their steps down the hallway.
It was almost exactly the same, Youhanna thought, entering the doors of the gym with his little family in tow. Thirty years ago was but thirty seconds, and as he inhaled the familiar smell of basketball hide and sweat, he could still see his sweet mother in the stands across the floor. "You can do it, Boy!" she'd shouted when he stood at the free throw line.
Joe glanced across the gym and could almost see his dad slumped in the wheelchair that was always parked carefully in front of the bleachers, his good mother hovering close as she visited with friends. He swallowed the lump in his throat and drew his wife beside him.
"Dude!" Youhanna shouted as a tall slender man approached them. Eli Hunter, his old partner in crime on the basketball floor, shook hands all around.
Harry laughed. "How long's it been, Man?"
Eli was still handsome and quiet. "Too long," he smiled. "Meet my family," he said, turning back to gather his wife, as tall and striking as Eli, and his 16-year-old son who was the image of his father- long limbed, slender and shy.
The men reminisced about their glory days and Tino and Cheetah and every nook and cranny of Howard Schumann Memorial Gym. "Guess it's not the new gym any more," Eli said. "Not to the boys who play here now, anyway."
Music suddenly blasted from the old wrestling deck above, and the group glanced up simultaneously to see their classmate Austin Clegg, who was assisting a young frantic female with the sound system.
"Clegg!" Dillon yelled up.
Austin peered over the balcony railing. He was still the big, sweet-faced Clegg they remembered, but his hair was completely gray. In a flash, he recognized the group and waved. "I'll see you at our table later and introduce you to my wife!" he called down. "They need help up here!"
Harry yelled back, "Mr. Howard would be proud, Clegg!"
A reedy voice behind them caused them all to jump. "Who's looking for Mr. Howard?"
It was an old woman slumped over a walker and carefully shuffling over to them.
"Dear god," Tate whispered. "Is that Mrs. Howard? What is she, like a million?"
The shrunken old woman made her painstaking way to them. "I'm 90, Harry Heidelk, and my hearing's perfect. So is my mind." She glared at him. "And I've known for 30 years ," she said sharply, "that you were the idiot in the red pickup who nearly rammed into my car that morning on your way to school."
Harry sputtered and turned red.
Youhanna laughed his big laugh, and one by one, their old teacher hugged them and marveled at their good looks and their grownup children.
Mr. Howard, she informed them sadly, had died two years previously, along with their beloved Shu, Mr. Kester, Krall, and sweet, sweet Miss Wiles. But Mrs. Zavala was spry and fit, Mrs. O'Connor was still kicking, Mr. Ross had recently received an award from the NSAA for being the oldest living baseball official in the state, and Mrs. Luther, at 98, had appointed herself the job of enforcing the dress code of all nurses, interns and staff at her local nursing home.
Mrs. Howard stopped suddenly to peer over Dillon's shoulder. "Caleb Wardyn! Is that you?"
They turned to see an incredibly handsome man walking toward their group.
"How are you, Mrs. Howard?" he asked politely. Caleb had barely changed. He was only a slightly older, filled-out version of his high school self. After shaking hands with his classmates, he gently hugged the frail old woman. "There's my family at the third table over," he pointed. The group stared at Caleb's wife and three teenaged children who could have been a page from a glossy magazine with their blonde good looks and million dollar smiles.
And sitting right beside them one table over were three more of their classmates - Branden Saldecki, Darren Kosmicki and James Buettner. The entire group walked over to the table to say hello and stake out seats. Darren rose first, a quiet but confident man.
"Cosmo," Harry reminded him, "remember when you were in middle school and could moo like a cow?"
He could still do it, Darren laughed, and did occasionally for his small grandchildren. Although he managed the family farm, Darren said, he also sang for a men's choral group and belonged to a locally famous barbershop quartet.
Branden, who was still short with a powerful build, was a high school wrestling coach in Manhattan, Kansas, where his own boy was a state championship wrestler.
But James Buettner! James was a multimillionaire.
"You're famous, Man!" Youhanna grabbed him around the neck. "I saw you in Forbes Magazine! So tell us about this security camera system you invented."
James shrugged. "Nothing really to tell."
Harry eyed him. "Just how rich are you, Buettner?"
Again, James shrugged. "Let's just say," James smiled, "my wife and I are quite comfortable."
They had just seated themselves when Cassie suddenly shrieked. "Oh my gosh!" she stood up. "It's Robbie!"
Sure enough, it was the artist from Chicago, Robert Van Heufeln. The long ago curls were gone, and Robbie looked what he was - a well known artist with his shaved head and unique style. There was no mistaking the big smile, however. He was still their Robbie.
The group huddled together as the music enveloped them. The lights dimmed, and other classmates arrived and joined their table. The wine and drinks flowed, the laughter was abundant, and the familiarity of old friends was as comfortable and right as warm, sweet butter.
Youhanna gazed around the table at his classmates and remembered them as they had been 30 years ago. He recalled the antics and the compete-to-the-death games in the senior lounge - a room that was really just a cave behind steel bars. He remembered the hurts and the growing pains, the dances, and the beat of the best little high school band in the state propelling them to athletic victories. He remembered Mr. Howard's thundering voice and Mr. Schumann pacing the halls with his cheerful smile advising them to "keep it between the ditches."
They had all come together again. In the familiar old school, time seemed to have stood still. But they were changed people. Most had married and given birth, and some even enjoyed grandchildren. They had survived the deaths of loved ones, divorce, and the maladies of getting older.Yet, here they all were - the only people in the world who shared a particular moment in time. And it had been a very good time. Youhanna was suddenly grateful.
"Heads up!" he shouted above the laughter and continuous stream of chatter. "Raise your glasses!" he ordered.
Obediently, they lifted their wine glasses and beer and soda cans high.
"A toast!" Youhanna roared. Somebody stopped the music, and there was profound silence in the old gym.
"To both the good and hard times we shared!" Youhanna said in his big voice. "To our strong faith given to us by teachers and parents! To those who are still with us, and to those who are in Heaven!" His voice cracked. "To all that we meant to each other 30 years ago, and to the life long friendships we made!" Youhanna lifted his glass to the ceiling. "Here's to the class of 2015!"
Silently, they stood to reach and stretch and clink their glasses together.
The music started again and swirled with soft lights around them. Joe Krajicek remembered his father and felt the sting of tears. Gratefully, he grabbed the hand of his good wife who was so like his own sweet mother in many ways.
Some of them remembered gathering together around the bonfire the night of their senior retreat, some remembered their last Honors' Mass in this very gym, and others remembered falling in and out of love during those tumultuous high school years.
And Harry remembered the Polish dog he stuffed above the tiles in Mr. Manivong's ceiling and wondered if it was still there.
for the 30th year reunion of GICC'S class of 2015.
Joe Krajicek drove up the circle drive and braked in front of his old school. Looking up through the windshield, he studied the familiar doors and concrete benches.
"Here it is," he said to the lovely wife beside him. "Central Catholic High School - my old stomping grounds." Thirty years was really nothing at all, he understood in a flash. The flag, the benches, and The Ten Commandments lining the path brought it all back - his father's massive stroke, his good mother's exhaustion, his own confusion. "Let's go in," he finally opened the car door.
In another door on the west side of the building, Youhanna Ghaifan was ushering his own little family inside. The old hallway still smelled like floor wax and active children, Youhanna thought. Thirty years, he shook his head. Where had they gone?
Down the hallway, lounging in front of their old religion room, were four old friends - Levi Cornwell, Harry Heidelk, Christian Gappa and Dillon Rork. Levi and Harry were almost completely bald, but Christian looked the long time Californian he was, bronzed and fit. Dillon was bigger and grayer, but when he smiled, he was the same kid Youhanna remembered so well.
"Yo!" Levi crowed. They greeted each other with vigorous back claps and loud insults. "You been eating well!" Levi patted the big man's belly. "Where'd that lean, mean teenager go?"
Youhanna rubbed Levi's head. "Same place as your hair!"
He turned to Dillon and mockingly punched him. "You old traitor!"
Dillon grinned. "I was tempted to drive to the other side of town for the Northwest reunion," he said. "But I figured you losers needed me."
Youhanna introduced his wife, a petite, beautiful woman who shyly offered her hand to the four men. "I'm Denise!" she smiled pleasantly.
"How are my godchildren!" Harry threw his arms around Youhanna's three sweet girls, 16, 12 and 8, who all giggled. He lifted the youngest girl high in the air, and she squealed in delight.
Joe Krajcek and his wife appeared around the corner by the old school office just then, and once again, loud greetings filled the hallway. Joe introduced his wife to his classmates, and at last the group headed toward the gym for their reunion festivities.
Memories assailed them as they made their way down the hallway toward the old senior lockers and the cafeteria. The same beige and red tiles lined the floors. They were dipped and scuffed from the thousands and thousands of feet treading over them year in and year out for the last 90 years.
Examining his old locker, the group was shocked to see, was their old friend Casey Brown. His hair was still thick and perfect as was his manicured silk shirt and the shine of chains around his neck.
"Casey!" his classmates called out. There was more back clapping as Casey joined the group.
"You remember me talking about Casey Brown!" Youhanna said to his wife and daughters.
As they progressed down the hall, they were suddenly aware of a small, attractive woman with fading red hair and twinkling blue eyes making a beeline for them. Her tall husband, with the exact shade of faded red hair, was trying desperately to watch two small, precocious red-haired boys who were wildly chasing a columbia blue balloon.
"Alyssa Kowalski!" the men all shouted in unison.
She smiled sweetly, all but ignoring the roar of the little ginger boys behind her who were severely testing the patience of her long-suffering husband.
"Our grandsons," she rolled her eyes at her classmates. "Have you seen the other girls?"
"Heigh Ho!" a raucous voice instantly called behind them, and a vivacious, blonde, middle-aged woman clattered to them in spiked heels and threw her arms around them. The men glanced at each other in bewilderment.
"It's ME!" she laughed. "Lexi Kleint!"
Christian's jaw dropped. "Lexi?"
She cackled and shoved him. "You don't recognize me!" she laughed in wild hilarity. "Are you blind in your old age?"
Behind her, a bit more quietly, were Cassie Westwood, a tall, stunning beauty, and Mariah Martinez, with the same big dewy brown eyes and heartfelt smile they all remembered so well.
"Man!" Christian breathed. "You four girls are lookin' good!"
Harry whispered to him. "Put your tongue back in your mouth, Romeo. They're all married."
Pausing in the hall, they listened in fascination as Lexi described her job as a motivational speaker. Cassie and Mariah both managed successful businesses and still raised their families, and Alyssa was a marriage and family therapist.
The loudspeaker suddenly crackled to life. "Will the class of 2015 and their families please assemble in the Howard Schumann Memorial Gym for the reunion festivities, please?"
Alyssa's husband chased down two red-haired boys and one blue balloon, and the ever growing group quickened their steps down the hallway.
It was almost exactly the same, Youhanna thought, entering the doors of the gym with his little family in tow. Thirty years ago was but thirty seconds, and as he inhaled the familiar smell of basketball hide and sweat, he could still see his sweet mother in the stands across the floor. "You can do it, Boy!" she'd shouted when he stood at the free throw line.
Joe glanced across the gym and could almost see his dad slumped in the wheelchair that was always parked carefully in front of the bleachers, his good mother hovering close as she visited with friends. He swallowed the lump in his throat and drew his wife beside him.
"Dude!" Youhanna shouted as a tall slender man approached them. Eli Hunter, his old partner in crime on the basketball floor, shook hands all around.
Harry laughed. "How long's it been, Man?"
Eli was still handsome and quiet. "Too long," he smiled. "Meet my family," he said, turning back to gather his wife, as tall and striking as Eli, and his 16-year-old son who was the image of his father- long limbed, slender and shy.
The men reminisced about their glory days and Tino and Cheetah and every nook and cranny of Howard Schumann Memorial Gym. "Guess it's not the new gym any more," Eli said. "Not to the boys who play here now, anyway."
Music suddenly blasted from the old wrestling deck above, and the group glanced up simultaneously to see their classmate Austin Clegg, who was assisting a young frantic female with the sound system.
"Clegg!" Dillon yelled up.
Austin peered over the balcony railing. He was still the big, sweet-faced Clegg they remembered, but his hair was completely gray. In a flash, he recognized the group and waved. "I'll see you at our table later and introduce you to my wife!" he called down. "They need help up here!"
Harry yelled back, "Mr. Howard would be proud, Clegg!"
A reedy voice behind them caused them all to jump. "Who's looking for Mr. Howard?"
It was an old woman slumped over a walker and carefully shuffling over to them.
"Dear god," Tate whispered. "Is that Mrs. Howard? What is she, like a million?"
The shrunken old woman made her painstaking way to them. "I'm 90, Harry Heidelk, and my hearing's perfect. So is my mind." She glared at him. "And I've known for 30 years ," she said sharply, "that you were the idiot in the red pickup who nearly rammed into my car that morning on your way to school."
Harry sputtered and turned red.
Youhanna laughed his big laugh, and one by one, their old teacher hugged them and marveled at their good looks and their grownup children.
Mr. Howard, she informed them sadly, had died two years previously, along with their beloved Shu, Mr. Kester, Krall, and sweet, sweet Miss Wiles. But Mrs. Zavala was spry and fit, Mrs. O'Connor was still kicking, Mr. Ross had recently received an award from the NSAA for being the oldest living baseball official in the state, and Mrs. Luther, at 98, had appointed herself the job of enforcing the dress code of all nurses, interns and staff at her local nursing home.
Mrs. Howard stopped suddenly to peer over Dillon's shoulder. "Caleb Wardyn! Is that you?"
They turned to see an incredibly handsome man walking toward their group.
"How are you, Mrs. Howard?" he asked politely. Caleb had barely changed. He was only a slightly older, filled-out version of his high school self. After shaking hands with his classmates, he gently hugged the frail old woman. "There's my family at the third table over," he pointed. The group stared at Caleb's wife and three teenaged children who could have been a page from a glossy magazine with their blonde good looks and million dollar smiles.
And sitting right beside them one table over were three more of their classmates - Branden Saldecki, Darren Kosmicki and James Buettner. The entire group walked over to the table to say hello and stake out seats. Darren rose first, a quiet but confident man.
"Cosmo," Harry reminded him, "remember when you were in middle school and could moo like a cow?"
He could still do it, Darren laughed, and did occasionally for his small grandchildren. Although he managed the family farm, Darren said, he also sang for a men's choral group and belonged to a locally famous barbershop quartet.
Branden, who was still short with a powerful build, was a high school wrestling coach in Manhattan, Kansas, where his own boy was a state championship wrestler.
But James Buettner! James was a multimillionaire.
"You're famous, Man!" Youhanna grabbed him around the neck. "I saw you in Forbes Magazine! So tell us about this security camera system you invented."
James shrugged. "Nothing really to tell."
Harry eyed him. "Just how rich are you, Buettner?"
Again, James shrugged. "Let's just say," James smiled, "my wife and I are quite comfortable."
They had just seated themselves when Cassie suddenly shrieked. "Oh my gosh!" she stood up. "It's Robbie!"
Sure enough, it was the artist from Chicago, Robert Van Heufeln. The long ago curls were gone, and Robbie looked what he was - a well known artist with his shaved head and unique style. There was no mistaking the big smile, however. He was still their Robbie.
The group huddled together as the music enveloped them. The lights dimmed, and other classmates arrived and joined their table. The wine and drinks flowed, the laughter was abundant, and the familiarity of old friends was as comfortable and right as warm, sweet butter.
Youhanna gazed around the table at his classmates and remembered them as they had been 30 years ago. He recalled the antics and the compete-to-the-death games in the senior lounge - a room that was really just a cave behind steel bars. He remembered the hurts and the growing pains, the dances, and the beat of the best little high school band in the state propelling them to athletic victories. He remembered Mr. Howard's thundering voice and Mr. Schumann pacing the halls with his cheerful smile advising them to "keep it between the ditches."
They had all come together again. In the familiar old school, time seemed to have stood still. But they were changed people. Most had married and given birth, and some even enjoyed grandchildren. They had survived the deaths of loved ones, divorce, and the maladies of getting older.Yet, here they all were - the only people in the world who shared a particular moment in time. And it had been a very good time. Youhanna was suddenly grateful.
"Heads up!" he shouted above the laughter and continuous stream of chatter. "Raise your glasses!" he ordered.
Obediently, they lifted their wine glasses and beer and soda cans high.
"A toast!" Youhanna roared. Somebody stopped the music, and there was profound silence in the old gym.
"To both the good and hard times we shared!" Youhanna said in his big voice. "To our strong faith given to us by teachers and parents! To those who are still with us, and to those who are in Heaven!" His voice cracked. "To all that we meant to each other 30 years ago, and to the life long friendships we made!" Youhanna lifted his glass to the ceiling. "Here's to the class of 2015!"
Silently, they stood to reach and stretch and clink their glasses together.
The music started again and swirled with soft lights around them. Joe Krajicek remembered his father and felt the sting of tears. Gratefully, he grabbed the hand of his good wife who was so like his own sweet mother in many ways.
Some of them remembered gathering together around the bonfire the night of their senior retreat, some remembered their last Honors' Mass in this very gym, and others remembered falling in and out of love during those tumultuous high school years.
And Harry remembered the Polish dog he stuffed above the tiles in Mr. Manivong's ceiling and wondered if it was still there.
 |
| MRS. HOWARD'S FOURTH PERIOD ENGLISH CLASS Front row, from left: Cassie Westwood, Mariah Martinez, Casey Brown, and standing, Levi Cornwell. Second row from left: Alyssa Kowalski, Robbie Van Heufeln. Staggering back row from left: Darren Kosmicki, Harry Heidelk, Joe Krajicek, Branden Saldecki, Lexi Kleint, Caleb Wardyn, Dillon Rork, Eli Hunter, Christian Gappa, Youhanna Ghaifan, Austin Clegg and James Buettner. |
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