Roads taken

Every first period during Mary Parker's senior English class, Carley Pfeiffer sat next to me in the back row of Room 5. Gil Bohan also occupied our row and probably focused on his beloved Chicago White Sox, while I found numerous ways to write about my cow Millie in our 300-word essays. I can't remember what Carley liked to write about, but I always appreciated her as a country girl like me.

That was 40 years ago when 300-word essays were standard and high school seniors were looking ahead to the American dream. At that time, it was pretty well-defined for us, especially for women. We could go to college and become a teacher, go to nursing school or maybe enroll in Kinman Business University to learn secretarial skills. We could also join the military, or maybe even snatch a husband, get married and have a batch of kids.

Young people at that time still envisioned success as the house, the two-car garage and the kids. There was a war going on, but we weren't too tuned in about it until some of our classmates eventually went off to fight it. One, Glen Shropshire, a strikingly handsome, talented creative writer and good friend of mine, never came home after going to Vietnam as a Marine.

He left behind his wife Cheryl, another 1965 classmate and their two kids. Cheryl married again and had two daughters, one of which is a fine elementary teacher here in Sandpoint. Over the years, I taught all four of Cheryl's children, and during my teaching career, had an opportunity to touch Glen's name on the Vietnam Wall in Washington, D.C. The pencil engraving remains in my dresser drawer.

Carley joined the Navy and met her husband of 38 years at age 19. I just learned that information a few days ago after hearing from her for the first time in nearly 40 years. Her email message, which showed up one evening last week, indicated that she would not be able to attend the reunion because she'd be scuba diving at Bonaire, NE Antilles off the coast of Venezuela. She added she'd be thinking about us.

These days, Carley lives in Colorado as a retired AT & T communications technician. She gained her technical knowledge during her three-year stint in the Navy, and she worked on the ground floor of the computer era. Carley's delight in life, besides scuba diving, is her growing number of grandchildren. Since her first letter, we've exchanged a additional email notes and have shared a few highlights of our respective lives.

Ironically, we've talked about kids and husbands, but nothing's come up about the two cars or the garage. I think that priority kinda disappeared in the maze of life-altering events we've all faced since Mrs. Parker, our nationally award-winning English teacher, pumped us full of grammar, literature and excitement about the bright future beckoning us on our separate journeys.

Many of us classmates will get together in Sandpoint this summer for a 40th-year reunion weekend. We'll spend time trying to identify each other, we'll reminisce a lot, play a little golf or go hiking, and we'll, no doubt, talk about the aches and pains that come with facing 60.

Some will talk about kids; others, grandkids, and even others great-grandchildren. We'll remember those among us who have passed away. And, who knows, maybe Gil Bohan will be there, taking a little heat about his Sox.

There is nothing quite like a class reunion to revive our sense of from whence we've come and where we're headed as we continue our separate routes through life. It will be a fun party, and we'll miss seeing folks like Carley.

But, we'll also envy her good excuse for not showing up. Since walking out of Sandpoint High School's gym after our 1965 graduation, she's definitely pursued her own pathways and her passions. And, I'll bet she could write a pretty decent 300-word theme about any of them for Mrs. Parker.