The answer to that question is easy. The “kids” I grew up with are no longer my playmates. They have become my family, and that family got together this weekend to celebrate another year of our lives. Above Bob Marshall, Carole Higgins Morton and Billy Damron journeyed to West Point to paint the town green and white one more time.
From sandbox to our sixties, the years all fall away when we are together. From left Ann Edwards Gatlin (one of the birthday girls), Susie Long Marshall, (an honorary member of the Class of ‘65), Olivia Catledge Portera and Norma Clark Atkins were among the playmates who were part of the celebration yesterday which lasted from 3 p.m. to 2:30 a.m. That was the latest I’ve been up in years.
Bob and Susie put away anything that could be broken by our rowdies, and welcomed us into their home. Pictured with Bob (2nd shot below) are Betty Lynn Weber Cameron (another birthday girl) and Phil Dickerson. Phil is one of my favorite people in the entire world, and he hasn’t changed one iota since the days we played hide and seek in my back yard. When I told him he was the cutest guy I know, he looked at me deadly serious and said “I was going for tall, dark and handsome.”
Below, Mack Portera, Class of 64, was among the honarary members of our tightly knit class. He married into the “family”.
Tinker Lautar and Jimmy Henley told some tall tales as usual. Tinker drove his new Porsche to town and I parked my 2001 truck as far away from it as possible. If I play my cards right maybe he’ll let me drive it one day after the newness wears off.
I don’t know where Al Sage and Ronnie Christian were hiding. We must have been out back star gazing and discussing the vicissitudes of life. I also managed to miss Barbara and Tommy Bryan who came in late. Ruthie Stafford Weathers, who threw the “after the party” party was stewing around making sure everyone had the time of their lives. For those who missed the reunion, not to worry, we’ll probably be doing it again next month.
I’m the luckiest girl alive to have been a part of the Class of ‘65. I don’t even mind turning 67 as long as I have my “family” to pick me up when I fall down in the sandbox of life.