A Tribute to Excellence...

In recent years a very pleasant custom seems to have become established locally, the gathering for a reunion dinner and evening of reminiscences of those whose graduation from OHS occurred ten years before. I say it is a custom that seems to have become established. Perhaps that is assuming too much, but in the past three years the Classes of ‘46, ‘47 and ‘48 have held such get-togethers and Mrs. Brooks and I have been honored by being invited to all of them.

The latest reunion, that of the Class of ‘48, was held last Saturday evening at the Southward Inn. It was a thoroughly delightful affair. More than forty were there, including husbands and wives of the class members. Of the thirty eight graduates still living there were twenty one present, a goodly turnout.

The banquet was held In the Carriage Room, which had been appropriately decorated with the Class Motto and an interesting collection of photos of school days. Most of this work as well as all the other arrangements were done by Marjorie Walsh Fratus and Jean Nash Chartrand.

After a delicious dinner and a few reminiscences by the Old Professor, special prizes were awarded for the Class member with the most children, two tying for first with four each, to the one with the youngest child and the graduate who longest distance for the reunion. George Childs, a naval aviator who had flown up from Florida, was edged out for this award by Reggie Rogers of the Air Force who had come all the way from Tucson, Arizona.

I am always amazed, although after thirty years as a teacher I don't suppose I should be, by the changes that ten years bring to young people after they finish high school. Anyone who has doubts about the wisdom of spending the large amounts of money that are being spent on education would have his doubts removed if he could attend such a gathering.

These young people are a credit to this community which educated them and to the communities in which they now live. Some of them about whom I had faint doubts ten years ago have turned out wonderfully well. They were a fine-looking end well-behaved group of men and women and I was proud to have had some small part in their education. Such occasions are indeed refreshing to the spirit and I am happy that Mrs. B. and I have been privileged to share in them.

During the scallop season last fall I wrote about Orleans' first submarine seeker after the succulent shellfish, that well-known Realtor, Brother Swan, now known as "Skin-Divin’ Sid". Not content with picking scallops by hand from the murky bottom of Pleasant Bay, Sid has now ventured into the submarine acquisition of yet another underwater source of food. While others cling to the centuries-old method of trapping lobsters, Brother Swan dons his diving gear, swims down to their haunts, greets them at their front doors, so to speak, and, whenever possible, escorts them to the surface. What percentage of those he spots he is able to capture I do not know, but at least on Memorial Day his score was not zero according to an informant who is really in the know. At least Sid can boast that his crustaceans are hand-picked.

After the glorious summer-like weather of last weekend the rain of late Monday afternoon was not entirely unwelcome. At least, unlike many of the rains of recent weeks, it was not cold and raw, but warm and gentle. Just before supper I stood in the doorway of our barn watching it come down, the strawberry blonde at my side.

The boughs of the dooryard maple, luxuriant in their new green foliage, the white and the purple lilac blooms by the doorway, bent lower with the weight of the rain, the yellow and blue irises which had burst into flower only the day before swayed ever go slightly as the drops fell upon them. "Doesn't it smell good?" observed the strawberry blonde. Indeed it did, the fragrance of wet lilac blooms, freshly-cut grass, the lush foliage of early June and the warm rain itself. When next winter comes and I stand again in the barn doorway watching the snowflakes swirl and drift I shall think of that June evening and its rain-drenched fragrant loveliness.