Well, it finally happened. I feel old. It’s not my physical health that brought on this revelation, or the wrinkles
and age spots that appeared seemingly overnight. No, sir. It was an email that read, “The 50th class reunion is coming!” Yikes! Has it been 50 years?
We were the Class of ’76, aka, the Spirit of ’76. It was the nation’s 200th birthday. Everything had a patriotic theme to it : an impressive fireworks display would take place at the Statue of Liberty; the “Freedom Train,” packed with historic artifacts from the nation’s founding, such as the Liberty Bell, would be touring the country; our yearbook and the tassels on our graduation mortarboards were red, white, and blue and featured the iconic “Spirit of ‘76” image created by Archibald Willard.
It was a time when just about every Friday night, my parents, God love them, put up with the “gang” and our weekly parties that took over the house.
It was a time when we frustrated our girlfriends as they tried to teach us how to disco dance and instead, me and the guys broke out doing the knight’s dance from “Monty Python and the Holy Grail.” I should have learned to dance. I admit it—I regret not being able to dance with my girlfriend at the senior prom, and still hear about it every now and then to this very day. Sorry…again.
And with age comes the inevitable contemplation of 'what if,' a feeling most pronounced when I reflect on the cherished relationships and early love that slipped away. And then there are those close friends who are no longer with us.
Here's to you, those of you who remember 1976. You, too, are the Spirit of '76!
