John Ross Pope
The locking system on my car makes this “pinging” sound when it goes on or off and curiously enough it is the same “pinging” sound which my mobile phone makes when there is a message or WhatsApp, or email. It sounded yesterday to tell me that a mail had arrived from none-other than Webster Groves High School. It is some alumni web board which I do not even remember sighing up for but there it was posting a “happy trails to you” memorial message of someone who had passed on, etc, etc, etc…. So the files draws in the back of my brain all fly open and smack against my frontal lobe dumping troves of memory burps of times very much gone bye – almost 60 years.
I graduated in’62 and “escaped” to Chicago, Switzerland, Fort Knox , Washington DC, Phoenix, New York, Brazil, and now Chile (10 years away from WG and 50 from the USA) – all new adventures curbing any recollections I could have had of what was supposed to be so called formidable years. Somethings have stuck now that I try to dig deeper, to reminisce on what was.
Fortnightly’s (so very de regueur!), sock-hops, Miss Rep (music and singing still a huge part of my life, swimming (still in waterbodies all over the world). And two teachers: one women who always mono-chromed her clothes – everything always the same color, top to bottom and strangely enough used to shave away the hairs on her arms, and another, an English teacher who accused me of plagiarism in a short story I had written – call in my parents to unjustly reprimand me (what a twit he was!).
There are just three people which whom I am still in contact. Two have escaped to Oregon and one to Texas. I wonder how I use to get home from school when book bags or backpacks still had not been invented. I try to remember the route home, how long it took to walk, what did I do if it rained or snowed, did I have a friend to walk with – pieces of “treasure” which stay squashed in the back of the file.
I have no real reason to revisit WG or STL, since there is no family remaining in that area – strange to think “no more family” after it having been almost a household word for so many years. But c’est la vive.
So WGHS still exists and still continues and hopefully still produces formidable entities for the future. I guess I am who I am because I am an a “Statesman”
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