That’s my I.D. badge, Dear Readers, proudly bearing my class picture. (Wince.)
The year was 1967, and although I was having a clearly a bad hair day, my four years at New Trier High School in Winnetka, Illinois were the greatest.
I was handed that badge two Saturday nights ago on the twelfth floor at the Doubletree Hotel in Skokie, Illinois. That’s where our fiftieth reunion was being held and I wasn’t entirely sure if I should still clip it on.
When I first got the invitation earlier this year, I had had my doubts.
A lot had changed in my life since my last appearance at the twenty-fifth reunion. Back then, I was a Winnetka housewife, a mother, a columnist, a generous philanthropist and hard worker for many Chicago charities.
All that had gone with the divorce wind. I wasn’t real sure how the 2017 version of Ellen Ross would play.
But high school had been a magical time for me. And more importantly, New Trier had given me everything.
I had loved my teachers, my friends, my classes. And the school had given me an identity of which I was- and am- proud. As a dopey teenager, it had been a privilege to be part of something truly special.
There is no doubt in my mind as I type this. New Trier had shaped the course of my life.
And of course, I wanted to reconnect with my old- no make that former- classmates. Some I still see, of course. But others I hadn’t seen in over twenty-five years.
And the subset I was most anxious to revisit were my Avoca Class of ’63 kids. Avoca was/is a small school- eighty three boys and girls had been in my graduating class- and I had gone all the way from first to eighth grade with most of them.
But eighty-three freshmen got lost in a class of twelve hundred and I hadn’t seen most of these people since they were twelve. What would they be like now? Would I recognize them? Would they know who I was?
Curiosity may have killed the cat but it got me to overcome my second thoughts and shell out the $125 to put my name on the guest list.
Once that check was in the mail, the die was cast and the Rubicon was crossed. (N.B. Mr. Thomson. Latin teacher ne plus ultra and professore d’italiano magnifico.)
Author’s Note: I’ve already apple-polished and written a love screed to my favorite teachers. If you want to read (or reread ) it here it is. Click here.
But as Saturday, September sixteenth drew near, my original trepidation came back.
After all, I wasn’t married, my kids had moved away and Kelly Ripa still had my dream job. I hadn’t written Heartburn or directed Something’s Got To Give, either.
I had nothing to show for the last fifty years.
But it felt lousy to chicken out and pull a no-show. Besides, my former next-door neighbor had graciously agreed to pick me up at the train station and I didn’t want to stand her up.
Ellen was waiting right on time with her old friend Janice already riding shotgun. And as we walked in to the reception, I felt my pulse quicken with…I don’t know nerves, anxiety, excitement…
And then I spotted Cathy and it was 1963 all over again. All the memories came flooding back and I was awash in laughter- and a few tears- for the rest of the night.
Old training-wheels beaux, former jumprope and jacks rivals, girls I had worshipped from afar swirled around me in a wonderful whirlpool. People and things I hadn’t thought about in fifty years all came rushing towards me with a clarity that somehow defied the years.
There was Bob and Jeff and Ernie and Cathy and Vickie and beloved Barbara and Diane and Butch and Rodney and Stew…
We laughed and reminisced.
And we mourned our fallen classmates. I hadn’t realized how many of us had died. Living in Colorado for seventeen years had left me way out of the loop.
Too many kids in our little class were gone. And that’s how I’ll always think about them- as twelve year old kids with their whole lives in front of them. Scott and Jimmy and Bob and Charles…
Sad.
My buddy Fred drove me home. We left kind of on the early side before the music and the dancing started.
Besides, I was ready to go. I had seen everybody that I wanted to see. It had been a blast and now it was time to let my inner teenager go.
Ave atque vale, Class of 1967.
It was a gas, gas gas.
With love from Ellen R.
It was a very “mixed feeling” evening with so many memories to handle. It was very special going with you and entering that room together not knowing what we’ll face. Most everyone looked wonderful (even the guys!) and for sure seeing the Avoca “kids” was the best. 50 years is a long time….can’t believe it’s been that long. I was very saddened to hear of the people who are gone….their teenage faces still in front of me.
I had to laugh when Vickie told me she had to pay Jean $.25 to play with her on the playground in 3rd grade. The beginning of “bullying”!!
Your recap was great,Ellen…..as always!!
Thanks, Ellen W. You’ve summed it up beautifully. It was an emotional roller coaster and I was so grateful to know you had my back. Just like the time you showed me how to spell “d u c k” in first grade and saved me from quitting school. My mother was right. You’re the best. Ellen R.
Thanks, 810!!!! Loved your Mom… but her judgment????
Be well!!!!
Well, she always knew a winning hand when she saw one. And that was you. (And she didn’t even know you had good hand-writing.) You’re aces with me, my friend.
I too had Mr. Thomson for Latin and he was one of my favorite teachers. But my real connection with him has to do with Kennedy. I was in the basement walking out of class when I heard he was shot. I went upstairs to my English class and my teacher was crying – which she proceeded to do for the whole class while we just sat there.
Other than that, I too loved New Trier. Besides, we never would have met if we didn’t both go there.
I was in Mrs. Burns’s history class when the news from Dallas was confirmed. It was the first- and only time I ever saw a teacher cry. That was amazing and as unreal as the terrible news.
And yes, we never would have met. That’s why I said New Trier had shaped my whole life. 👍
dear Ellen: No, sadly, maybe, … we never met at either New Trier nor at Avoca … but I still remember when and how we met … and we have been amazing friends ever since.
You certainly brought back memories of my first high school reunion, and especially the memories of my friends at Ravinia School (that was our Avoca). And I am sure I have often told you that the Ravinia Girls still meet once a month for lunch in our “hood” … and reminisce about life so long ago … and of course what we are doing today. You have had many successes in your life to be proud of .. a job, a blog, children and now grand-children … Let’s stay in touch. Love, Joan
Thanks, Joan. Meeting and knowing you has been a highlight of my checkered existence.
Ellen, you wrote you had nothing to show for the past fifty years…..please delete those thoughts from your head. We are both divorced but those divorces were gifts that have allowed us to bloom into who we are today. As I approach the New Year and another birthday I look on my life with pride. Two wonderful children, four wonderful grandchildren, a dog that loves me , volunteering in public schools, learning Torah and Kaballah ( I recently graduated the Florence Melton program)and a thousand more reasons to realize what I do and who I am is my destiny! You are an incredible woman with a brain filled with great knowledge and a fabulous sense of humor…..your accomplishments have included your children and all the people who subscribe to Elba….you have touched more lives than you realize in the most positive ways! Judge yourself by the successes around you and look at everything thing else not as a failure but its all part of the story of your life!Hopefully there are many more chapters ahead.
Thanks for the pep talk, Jackie. But let me be clear. Being divorced is not a sign of failure. But being divorced as much as I am? Trust me, it doesn’t feel good. I do count my blessings all the time BUT I need to prove something to myself before I check out. It ain’t over ’till it’s over, my friend. 😊👍
Thanks for the plug. Yes, we left early and I missed some people I later found were there but I also missed some who I also missed ten years ago. You win some, you lose some but you suit up for all of them. Probably would have spent the remaining time saying good-bye to people to whom I’d said hello or telling old friends we need to get together.
Echoing an early response, don’t sell yourself short. Few of us can become the CEO of a major aerospace company, UN representative or porno film star. We can, however, be the type of person our parents had pride in. Or, quite simply, as many remembered my late friend John, “he was one of the good guys.” I’ll settle for that.
YOU are one of the good guys, Fred. Thanks for the ride- and the common sense morale booster. Proud to call you a friend.
You described the New Trier experience perfectly. I took away many gifts just as you did. If I can sum up in one word what I primarily gained, it would be TENACITY. I gifted my own children with NT, just as my parents did for me. The memories are forever.
Thanks, Annie. So glad you gave me a good grade. And you’re right. Giving the next generation the New Trier experience is priceless. We were lucky to have had parents to who gave it to us.