The Glen Lake High School Class of 1976 had its 50th reunion recently and among the attendees was this former Laker.
Like a typical reunion, people were happy to see each other, talk about their lives, reminisce about their school days, and generally just catch up with one another.
Careers, kids, grandchildren, and current residences were among the most common things talked about, and everyone there actually looked pretty healthy aside from the normal effects of aging.
I think that seeing a couple of our former teachers that showed up for the occasion might have put a lid on some of the aches and pains chitchat. I mean we all had gotten older, but those guys had long since been there and done that so get over yourself.
Easily, the most common sentiment expressed was how ridiculously fast 50 years had passed.
When it comes to describing the passing of time, particularly long lengths of time, I have a “go-to” metaphor which involves taking a car ride.
I live near Elk Rapids and quite often travel US 31 south to Traverse City. It’s a scenic trip with rolling hills, a glimpse of East Grand Traverse Bay and, from time to time, plenty of traffic.
The eight or so miles from my house to that traffic light have been taken thousands of times in the years that this has been my route.
How many times then do I pull up to the traffic light in Acme and think to myself how I don’t remember driving past certain landmarks like the horse farm on Angell Road or the big red barn that sits next to the Lochenheath golf course.
I know that I did, I just don’t recall doing it today. Your drive probably takes you past different landmarks but I’ll bet you’ve experienced the same mental sensation.
The passing of five decades is no different.
When last we met we were walking out of a small, rural high school two miles outside of Maple City on County Road 616.
From there any number of roads were taken.
Roads that led some to colleges, some to military bases, and others that took dozens of other directions.
As the years rolled by I’m quite confident that we all encountered obstacles which led us onto different roads, met people that joined us on our travels, and perhaps parted ways with those same people as our lives headed onto even different roads.
The early roads, the roads taken when we were filled with both the energy and naïveté of youth, may be the roads most remembered. Incredibly, I remember just wanting to drive out of Leelanau County after graduation.
Four years of living in Mt. Pleasant later, I found myself looking for the roads that would take me back north instead of those heading anywhere else. I knew that better career opportunities might be found by going down sunnier roads, but in my heart I knew that I’d be happier taking roads that needed to be plowed in the winter months.
As conversations unfolded those that knew of this Record-Eagle column were curious as to whether our reunion would be a topic for an upcoming piece.
My reply was that it probably would; I just had to figure out a way to tell this story in a relevant way.
Tooling down the county roads from Maple City and then M-72 toward Traverse City, I tried just a bit harder to pay attention to the landmarks.
Pulling up to the West Bay roundabout, I paused for a moment to make sure I remembered the whole drive.