Our class’ 40th high school reunion is in August. I graduated from Saratoga High School in ’77. My dad worked at Stanford Research Institute; mom handled bookkeeping for a local State Farm Agent, Dennis Cunningham, who became a good friend. It was a good time: We are native Californians but had spent the ’70s in Denver, where I went to Cherry Creek High School as a freshman and sophomore. Dad wanted to return to California (he was worried about being transferred again — this time to Houston), and he landed the SRI job. I’d drive up to Menlo Park in my Toyota Tercel, and we’d eat lunch together in Menlo Park — at a Greek restaurant called the Golden Acorn.
Saratoga High was a much smaller high school than Cherry Creek. I was co-editor of the high school newspaper, The Falcon, and a serious student. It has remained a tight-knit group; many of my classmates grew up together. We have a trip planned the weekend of the reunion, but many of us still keep in touch on Facebook. We’re all married and our kids are growing up. It’s fun to share those experiences on Facebook.
Here’s a Seals & Crofts song that we heard at our high school graduation: “We may never pass this way again.” In fact, we are still in touch, thanks to social media.