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I wrote this reflection about my first day of high school, in early September 1966, for the “Class Notes” published for the 50th reunion of Lauralton Hall’s Class of 1970. Because of the pandemic, the reunion (an awkward distanced/hybrid/Zoom affair) took place in September 2021. The only change I’d make today: “60 years ago” in the first line, not “55”. BTW, I received not one single response to what I thought, even after so many years, was a very brave revelation; oh, we

To get to school when we lived on Osborne Lane, I would walk to the intersection near our house and wait for the yellow bus. When I was in 2nd or 3rd grade or so, I had long straight fine hair that easily got scraggly and fly-away. Mom would often pull it up into a high rubber-banded ponytail before I left for school. You know the hair-do -- it would swing back and forth when I shook my head, like a real pony’s tail. That high ponytail would barely last the walk to the

Every May 10 since Mom and Dad died, I do the same thing. I observe their wedding anniversary -- today, the 74th. And I reflect on the beginning of my life, my conception. You see, I was born exactly nine months and two weeks after the day they were married. Do the math! As a friend remarked, “You were wanted.” Pause. “Or you were a surprise.” I dare to think I was a fulfillment. Between May 1952 and February 1953, Mom and Dad went so quickly from being individu