An invitation from the administration of my alma mater, Turkey Valley High School of Jackson Junction, Iowa, was such a nice gesture. Perhaps other districts around the nation do it, but I am unaware if that is the case. If they don’t, they should.
On Sunday, May 13, 2012, the graduating TVHS class of 2012 received their diplomas at a wonderful commencement exercise surrounded family and friends
.
Also in the crowd sat a contingent of 13 guests, most of whom the graduates had never met; but who shared a common experience with the honorees. Thirteen of us had walked up on that same stage fifty years prior to shake hands with the superintendent and school board president. Thirteen who had not the vaguest idea what might be in store for us in the years ahead.
They are only eighteen. We are sixty-eight.
We were members of the second graduating class of Turkey Valley High in 1962, five decades ago. It was one of the first consolidations in the state consisting of five small town schools: Fort Atkinson, Lawler, Protivin, Saint Lucas, and Waucoma. The school was wisely constructed in between all five villages in the unincorporated town of Jackson Junction.
On Mother’s Day 2012, it felt as though our graduation had occurred five years ago rather than five decades ago.
Forty-three of us marched across the stage in 1962. Of that number, six are now deceased.
It was a strangely comforting feeling to sit in our little group, representing those who have died and the living members who either could not make it or made the choice not to attend. The six women and seven men who did are in unanimous agreement that it was time to reflect and be thankful.
I had the good fortune to be located in a chair next to the aisle where I could turn and watch the boys and girls, soon to officially become men and women, march forward to their seats in caps and gowns. As the band played ‘Pomp and Circumstances,’ some grinned from ear to ear while others did their best to hold back tears.
It occurred to me that these beautiful youngsters were looking at life through binoculars. My 1962 classmate friends and I were looking at life through rearview mirrors.
The 2012 graduates were anticipating their first adult paychecks, trade school, or college experience. We were mostly retired. They are on a mission to explore life with a mixture of bravado, enthusiasm, fear, and joy.
We are enjoying grandchildren and coping with the grief of lost friends and loved ones.
We knew, each from own perspective, that there would be much for them to celebrate in the days and years ahead. And that there will be some sorrow and pain.
But this was a day to celebrate…for them and for us. As each picked up his or her diploma, it surprised and pleased me to hear many of the same surnames I heard lo those many years ago. These graduates were obviously grandkids or nieces and nephews of my peers.
As we departed from the event, our little contingent exchanged handshakes and hugs. We were genuinely grateful for a chance to share this day with one another. And with the young people who did not know us, but shared a common heritage.
It was a day to cherish, reflect, and remember. And similar to the graduates of 2012–some of us had broad smiles. And some of us shed a few tears. The class of 2012 looked forward. The class of 1962 looked back.
And to be perfectly candid, I’m not entirely sure who had the better view.
Bill Sheridan
8106 Brookview Drive
Urbandale, IA 50322