THE HOUR THAT COMES

I lay awake and it is 3:00 AM! There seems to be a lot of activity in my mind, as I think ahead. A lot of issues are pressing me, and I’m wondering what to think about first.

As I twist and turn, it occurs to me that I have to say something on behalf of my high school committee for the tree memorial we are planting the day before the reunion on the school grounds, for those who have died and to remember that terror filled day on March 8th, 1964, when our high school burned to that very ground!

I start to formulate what I want to express, and it sounds good. So good in fact that I am compelled to jump up and go into my office to write it down.

There is a very beautiful rendition of Il Silenzio that I keep hearing in my mind, and I wonder if it would be too much. I wish it were later so I could play it.

As I hear the music in my mind, I start to think about those kids. They started to pass on, just out of high school? The Viet Nam war, car accidents, all so shocking, all so final, in so short a span of years! Young lives that did not see the fruits of their education, the joys of their relationships, the meaning of their friendships, and what impact that would have on so many lives.

Then it occurs to me, we had other reunions, where kids attended as adults and more of us were missing. More than we cared to know. And now, almost 50 years later, even more, and yet we are not even sure how many!

What makes some of us continue, and some of us not see the future: as we should? It makes me ashamed of myself for any time I wasted in my life, and anyone else’s time I may have wasted.

It is funny, or strange how well I can picture those that have passed on. I can see them clearly in my mind’s eye, can feel their presence, their voices sound in my mind like they are next to me.

There was a wonderful gal named Lillian. Lillian glided through the halls with a soft smile on her lips and a merriment in her eyes, a sweet smile from a sweet gal, never more.