All those years ago become now again

Me and my high school sweetheart, Chris, some 38 years
later. The fact is if you found a shot of us from 38 years
ago, I would still have a beer in front of me. It just would
not be a GOOD beer. It's nice to see some things change.
And then other things, like Christine's beauty, that do not.

This was the third White Oaks Secondary School Reunion Party that I've been to in a year. You see, last year, our Oakville (Ontario) high school was meant to have its big 50th Anniversary celebration as it opened in 1965. But the threat of a teachers' strike (which never happened) shut down the big party. Fortunately, one of our classmates, Sandi, had already organized a separate party at the Sixth Line Pub and we had our own damn reunion. She saw that the big Gala Dinner was $80/plate and said, "Look, do we really want to pay 80 bucks to sit at tables with 80s, 90s and 2000s graduates that we don't even know?" Being as we all graduated in the late-70s, we responded with a resounding "Hell no! But we're sure they're very nice." So Sandi simply organized our far superior bash, instead. Frankly, it made more sense. We probably spent far more time back then in the Oakville pubs than our actual classes so why not now? And it was jam-packed and crazy-ass fun.

Then we had another, again organized by Sandi, just before Christmas - like, the weekend before - so while it wasn't quite as well attended, we still had a blast. We made sure to seriously up our booze intake so that my favourite Oakville bar (hey, Martha, zup?) didn't suffer at the till. If you need a group to really drink, you've come to the right people.

At the Christmas reunion, Bill, left, kept things to his
usual calm collected self. But my best buddy, Dave, on
the right? Look at him! He's a madman! Lock him up!!!

And then last Saturday, one week ago today, we did it all over. But my best friend, Dave, well, he wasn't content to do everything in just one night. To that end, he arranged for the both of us to get together with high school friends Leanne, coming in from Calgary and Christine, flying in from Santa Barbara, California on the Friday night. I was thrilled, after all these years, to see them both again but also a little nervous. You see, Chris was my high school sweetheart (that's good) but I couldn't remember how things ended between us (that's bad.) Fearing the worst, I asked Dave if he recalled. Nope, not a clue. Like me, he's been through marriages and a healthy handful of relationships since and well, over the years, it does get hard to keep track of everything. Not stumbling over our own childrens' names is a good day. So Dave did me a pretty big solid. While I was working, he took the ladies and his own lady, Joann, to The Keg and after that, we all met up at Burlington's Rib Eye Jack's Ale House. He gave me home field advantage. That's my safe place, my comfort zone. And he knows that.

See that pretty lady on the right? That would
be Sandi. She organizes all these awesome
high school reunion parties. The pretty one
on the left would be Karen. She helps Sandi.
The one in the middle? Some scuzbag who
wandered in off the street because of thirst.

In the end, the fretful concern (like most concerns) was all for naught as when we reunited, I got a hug from Chris that could crush a Smart Car. (Granted, squirrels can actually T-bone those Tonka toys but...) Clearly, as I remembered her with genuine love and affection, she did likewise with me. It's funny. The brain is a powerful organ, often times shutting out old memories, usually to make room for new ones. But with a single glance, a pretty smile and a killer hug, the heart takes over and yells, "Hey, I remember this!" And so the Night Before The Big Night went on with old stories, fond memories and far too many laughs. Now before we get to the Big Night, let me clear up one thing. Dave swears we used to call Leanne "Lamby". We didn't. Her nickname was Lanny, after late-70s Toronto Maple Leaf star Lanny McDonald. Hell, I remember extending that and calling her Lanny McDin-Dins. (My now-legendary nickname prowess was not finely-honed at the time, resulting, no doubt, in some horrific monickers. But let me check with my old high school buds, Arseface and StankButt to confirm.)

So let's move on to the Main Event on Saturday night, shall we? (At this point, you, the reader, have little choice. Well, I suppose you could stop but you've already registered a blog hit so you may as well keep going.) I gotta be honest. I was wondering how Sandi could top last year's and yet, somehow she managed. I'll get back to Sandi in a brief while but suffice it to say, I have personally applied for her sainthood with the Vatican and if the Pope's initial reaction of "Why are you in my bathroom?" is any indication, she's a lock.

Well, ain't this another blast from the past? Dave
and Leanne, aka Lanny, not Lamby, were also old
high school sweethearts reunited at the big bash.

When Dave and I showed up in a cab just before 6 pm, the bar was a ghost-town. (Within the hour, as people poured in, you couldn't move in there.) But the Browne brothers, Dave and Murray, landed there ahead of us and were left wondering if they were in the right locale. Now Dave, aka Brownie, and I fell a year behind the others because in Grade 12, I was shipped off to a private school that I bailed on by Christmas and had to repeat Grade 12 at WOSS. And Brownie spent a year in jail for selling counterfeit Led Zeppelin concert tickets. (He'll deny this but it's a better story than the truth, which I honestly forget.) In later years, he became my first Beer Store boss. He was a horrible friend and worse boss. Okay, no. The truth is we were as thick as thieves (and usually drunk as skunks) in Grade 13 and I don't remember how he was as a boss because I've never really paid attention to any of my bosses ever. He was probably okay.

And so the night begun. Arriving soon would be Bill and Norma, that high school couple that's been locked at the lips since Grade 9. These two are a rarity. Still together after all these years with 87 grown sons. Or four. My Math kinda sucks. We remember Bill and his brother Walter in full costume, performing incredible gravity-defying routines with a Ukrainian dance troupe back in the day and geez, after all these years, that man is still pretty fly for a white guy on the floor.

When Bill hits the dance floor, he always brings his
jazz hands with him. As a youth, Bill performed in a
Ukrainian dance troupe that we used to pay to watch.
Granted, the venues also came with well-stocked bars

But every reunion has many "Do you remember when you...?" moments and this time around, my favourite, which I had completely forgotten, was provided by former classmate Sharon. She recalled the time that one of our fellow students got up in class to share her Jehovah Witness beliefs with us. Now frankly, I had no idea what that religion was because, well, none of them had knocked on my front door at that point to tell me. As Sharon recalls, we all listened patiently while she explained how great her religion was. At least, that is, until she got to the part where a "rocket ship will carry us all to Heaven." After a millisecond of silence, it seems I blurted out, "That's insane!" I would like to think my outburst had something to do with a working knowledge of the price of rocket fuel and wasn't just me being youthfully crass and intolerant. In retrospect, that seems unlikely. I would also like to say it was the last time ever I embarrassed my classmates but again, most unlikely. Oh, well.

While our favourite twins, Dennis and Danny, were there to open the evening's music, it was, in fact, with their younger sister, Shelagh, that I got to play out my own "Do you remember when you...?" moment. And it all revolved around an old high school musical.

With older brother Dennis manning the keyboard,
Shelagh got up and blew us away with her rendition
of Carole King's classic, "It's Too Late Baby." As we
all learned that evening, it is never too late to party.

Shelagh was in Grade 9 while I was in Grade 11 when we both joined the cast of a musical called "Rock and Roll." Billed as a modern American stage production that no one had ever seen or has heard about since, it was set in the late-1950s at the birth of, well, rock and roll. As such, it featured lots of singing and dancing. Shelagh and I were paired up as a dance team. I reminded Shelagh of how nicely she made a point of teasing me about what a crappy dancer I was after each rehearsal. (Had they let me down a six-pack before each rehearsal, a very different story.) "Oh great," she winced, not remembering that at all, "so I was a bitch." Actually, no, she was quite sweet and like her brothers, very funny. Fortunately, she noted, at least we were only extras. Well, no, I said, actually I had a speaking part, being cast as one of the three jocks. If you went through high school with me, the irony of that just kicked you in the nuts. "Oh, great," she noted, "so I couldn't act, either." Again, not true. I reminded her as she played a very vocal and ardent teenage admirer of the lead in the following year's "Bye Bye Birdie."

Look at this man! I said, look at him!! Is
he not a magnificent beast? Why, yes, he
mostly certainly is! Hey, Bob, what's up?

Granted, her own brother, Dennis, played the lead role and she had to pretend to be filled with teenage lust for him. Suffice it to say, no rocket ship to Heaven for these twisted siblings.

While the Sixth Line Pub and Sports Bar will never be confused with a craft beer bar, I applaud owner Martha for having a ready supply of decent ales on tap, including one of my foreign favourites, Samuel Adams Boston Lager. Now on a night where you are surrounded by high school friends and reliving fond memories, it seems that sometimes you drink like you did in high school. Which is to say, well beyond excessively. At this point, I should thank the Boston Beer Company for keeping that lager at a reasonable 5% because given the number I had, I remembered all too well the next morning that no, we are no longer in high school. Fortunately, the high-ABV craft beers I drink and write about now can shield me from even copious amounts of a 5% lager. Okay, to a degree. Well, I remember the whole night so that's a start.

Big Bob Sherwood, magnificent beast that he is, kept the music blasting well into the night with the band Project 360. Whenever a song calls for a strong, gravelly voice (think ZZ Top), the band's stalwart lead singer Ted (outstanding rock voice) relinquishes the mic to our man Bob. Now if you went to school with him (and by extension, partied with him), you will remember Bob less for his music and more for his cartooning skills. His bang-on and hilarious caricatures littered our yearbook over that span. In fact, he is so wickedly proficient at it that it has become a career for him.

Sandi gets a hug from Murray, aka, Murr The
Grrr. Like I said, we really sucked at nicknames
way back then. But it was really great to see Grrr.

Most of Halton knows Cartoon Bob and for a pleasant change from his youth, it's not just the police.

And Bob's band showed they really remembered high school by ending the night with a slow song. Bill and Ingrid, who connected as a new couple at last summer's bash, were certainly up there. Bill and Norma, who showed us all these many years how real romance is done properly, were also up there. I looked over and saw former sweethearts Dave and Leanne up together for a last dance. And then, well... then there was me and Chris. Never mind a Smart Car. We were hugging so tight, we could have crushed a Cadillac. In fact, it was such a great (and now unforgettable) moment that when the song ended, I told her I didn't want to let go. And didn't for a while.
Brain: Oh, please tell me you didn't just say that.
Heart: Yes, I did. Shut up, thought potato. I'm in charge now!
Samuel Adams Lager: I helped.

So what do you say to the wonderful woman who pulled all this together? The woman who helped us all relive old memories, create fresh new ones and is, to every single one of us, the Spirit of WOSS. I mean, I suppose we could serenade her with a rousing, off-key rendition of "To Sir, With Love." But that doesn't work because she's not Sidney Poitier.

Ahh yes, the scene of the crime. I tell you
something - the Sixth Line Pub definitely
holds a special place in our hearts these
days after three big WOSS reunions there.

And so it becomes ever more tricky to applaud Sandi Richardson for her unselfish time, tireless efforts and ceaseless dedication. So many of us have praised her so often over the past year and particularly after last weekend, that there's probably no new words to use she hasn't already heard. But, well, I'm an idiot so let me try anyway.

They say that when you are gone, you will not be remembered by the job you had, the money you made or the car you drove. No, you will be remembered by how you made people feel. Sandi, once again, you made us all feel like we were back in high school. Yeah, sure, this time, we were skipping class and going straight to the party at the pub. But then, for many of us, that's not all different than high school. (The Two Dave's will confirm this.) You reconnect us with old friends and old flames. We don't know what you drive, how much you make or even your address. But while you still have many years left ahead of you, your lasting legacy will always be how you make us feel. Forever young. We can never thank you enough. You are very loved.

Okay, folks, next up, it's back to beer with What Cheesy Brought Me From Detroit, Part Deux (little nod to French class there.) Geezuz, I hit the damn jackpot this time from my man, Greg, when he came to the reunion! Also, if you want to check out Cartoon Bob's skills, click this link: Magnificent Damn Beast! Or book a party at the Sixth Line Pub, click this link: Party On, Martha! But guys and dolls, that's it, that's all and I am outta here. Until next time, I remain...