Gingerly promoted as the ‘final’, being the 60th, against my better judgement, I succumbed to mild strong-arming and attended my high school class reunion a Friday evening this past October.

Since I had attended not a single other reunion, my imagination said that this convocation might likely have become the private domain of the classmates who had stayed behind in our hometown; there was in fact an air.

My barren expectations were rewarded insofar as my own high school gaggle being ‘underrepresented’, absent by virtue of wisdom, or having died specifically to avoid being tempted to attend.  My bad…

Oddly enough, I connected considerably with a classmate who had by no means been a close friend in the day, but found ourselves bound to each other in home room alphabetically through high school.

The following day, before leaving, I drove around town for a couple of hours, visiting places that in some cases I had never set foot, then prowled the old public library where my senior year I had a part-time job… which I loved.

Designed by architect Neel Reed, now repurposed as municipal office space, here are a couple of pictures of the library, one documentary and one actual.


“The quietness and the proud look of it; nothing very bad could happen to you there…”