We had a fifty-year golden high school reunion on September 18 and 19, St Raphael Academy Pawtucket RI class of 1960. There were many colorful scenes -- -- the best of which was the reception in the Galway Bay Irish Pub, a seedy rundown ethnic local pub with a house above where the proprietor keeps close watch. Now that's class!! Can you imagine that people mistake me for an uptight proper New England WASP!!
In any case there were many colorful and poignant scenes meeting friends of 50 years ago. Many erstwhile drinking buddies still holding a bottle of beer in their dominant hand like I left them 50 years ago ---- in a look-a-like musty dark rundown pub. There was so much magic -- conversations picking up from 50 years ago without even a pause --- bonds reconnected that ran deep --- being with best friends that you really knew, each with a 50-year story to tell --- carefree laughter recreated from our teenage years. The feeling that you were really home after 50 years of displacement, navigating by memory through streets with no name with each corner resurrecting delicious warm memories of carefree childhood. Yet all the while knowing it is but a visit to a distant home that now had a different character.
After reminding me of my Huckleberry Finn childhood including being thrown out of the high school my classmates were all quite surprised that my professional career turned out successful -- -- likewise to this day so am I surprised. Little did we know that all the tumult in high school was purifying my character for the topsy-turvy experience of an entrepreneur, and it turned out the combination of pure mathematician and Yankee underclass grit is deadly.
As you can tell by the picture the Galway Bay Pub bar is elongated and runs parallel to Pawtucket’s South Bend street. I arrived late to the reception and the place already had a healthy hilarious buzz. Each tap on the shoulder awakened a long forgotten friendship --- each a separate celebration of laughter and joy -- -- no polite warmup necessary. At this age part of the celebration is just being alive and the beauty of this age is that ego is finally put aside and the laughter, hugs, and affection are finally all authentic ---- just like it was back in the high school days. It was best showing up late meandering like a bumper car through each of the narrow side conversations and having people tap me on the shoulder exclaiming ‘Baron’.
My nickname was Baron --- I had a certain royal indignant posture that let me skate above all the bothersome high school responsibilities of homework and assignments -- -- and somehow get away with it. The flood of emotion and memories forgotten now reawakened opened me up -- -- the usual guarded comportment stripped away. Best yet I had to interact the way these old high school buddies remembered me -- -- the Baron was back!! More compelling than memories of old buddies are the memories of ourselves back them --- more authentic, outlandish, and crazy than now. And for a brief moment in the Galway Bay Pub I was indeed the Barron of old. And it felt so comfortable and so much fun and so silly and spontaneous -- -- it was glorious. I stayed until the very last drop of alcohol and in fact found another old friend, not of the class of 1960, who was tending bar -- -- and we hugged and told a few more good stories.
Back at the hotel that night I recounted the experience many times over with my wife trying to hold on to the high school years and the innocence of my adolescence. I knew it wasn’t me but it also wasn’t a masquerade -- -- it was true and authentic, a chance to relive the past and exalt in the gift and glory of childhood.
I still hold a piece of it now and as my degree of separation increases thought it best to capture the sentiment in writing. I have this notion that life turns back and revisits its past, mine was glorious, and I’m not through with it yet. All this is so special to me because, thank God, I never grew up.
In any case there's the making of a good story here --- thought I would share my first thoughts.
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