1956

"Who can forget the hours that passed like dreams?" Surely no one who was there is likely to forget the glorious 35th, which really was the 36th. Who could possibly forget die march to Thompson Arena, led by the mellifluous melodies of Will Sogg's swinging saxophone?

Or the sight of Dick Whitney at the Wednesday morning class meeting, The United Colors of Benetton pale in comparison to his technicolor attire? Or Bill Kieger strutting his stuff in one of the nine—count 'em, nine! Stetsons he somehow managed to stash in overhead compartments on his cross-country flights?

Who will ever forget.Booge Erwin peddling souvenir socks, suspenders, and sweaters from the back of a van until the last lonesome classmate had faded into the twilight glow? Looked like a scene from the Hungarian black market. Or Flint Ranney's ubiquitous snapping shutter, recording every individual and event for posterity or perhaps blackmail? And how can anyone forget the formalwear in which Jack Crowley appeared for dinner at die Inn? Truly a sight to behold.

Who can forget the grand mid-reunion parade to the Green, led by the ever stalwart Russ Brace? Who but he could shut down an entire construction site backhoes, bulldozers, and all to make way for the symbolic burial of a very real hatchet? Or the most moving memorial service we've seen yet, conducted by our own class bishops, Stew Wood and Pete Rosazza? If Stew had choked up one more time, the entire chapel would have been in tears.

And who could ever conceivably forget the incredible "culminating event" during which Woody Fraser and Tom "Rosie" Rosenwald led us through the most embarrassing moments of our lives? Or Clem Malin, our once and future leader, solemnly reciting a ripoff of the Gettysburg Address, while Jim Loghry (I believe) whistled a chorus of "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" in the background?

Who will forget Dave Stackpole gamely trying to tame the trampoline under the tent so he could dance with Bill Behrens' delightful daughter Nicole? Or Ted and NancyBremble, among many others, rising at the crack of dawn for would you believe? an estate planning seminar? Memento mori, indeed. Are they trying to tell us something?

Who can forget Wally Pugh's apologies at the class meeting for yet another railroad of candidates, presented by our retiring veep, Glen French? Once again, Wally's committee, faced with a virtual void of volunteers for class officers, came up with a super slate. Clem ran the meeting with his usual executive aplomb, and Howard Sodokoff , our retiring head agent, made one final pitch for pledges. We can be sure we'll hear more on that score from Ab Oakes in the future.

Speaking of the future, for at least the next four years you'll be hearing from Tom "Poon"Harper in this column. Please give him your support phone, fax, smoke signals, semaphore, cards, and correspondence. Let him hear from you frequently. After the fantastic job he did planning, implementing, and executing one of the finest reunions in memory, Poon has earned our admiration and deserves our support.

All of you who missed this reunion, for whatever reasons Cy Field, take note should begin planning now for what may well be an even bigger and better fabulous 40th only four years hence.

Till then, as we used to say, it's been real.

51 Tradd Street, Charleston, NC 29401