AMARILLO BY MORNING

We all grew up in a small town in the Panhandle of Texas, about 55 miles northeast of Amarillo. I hadn't seen most of them for 50 years and some as long as 55 years, but I was game to meet fellow Blackhawks for dinner in Austin this past weekend. I was somewhat apprehensive, as I wasn't part of any clubs or cliques in high school, nor was I part of the "in-crowd." The folks invited to the dinner were the popular kids in school. The thought of meeting them for a meal would have never entered my mind 50 years ago, but it was probably something I longed for. It's only speculation on my part, as too much time has passed.

We had approximately 40 girls in my class, and I was one of the few girls not invited to join a social club. In retrospect, I'm confident my father would not have allowed me to accept an invitation, so it didn't matter. I participated in a variety of high school activities. I took journalism and published a weekly column in the local newspaper, played the tenor sax in the high school marching and stage bands, acted in plays, and was the editor for our senior year's yearbook. I felt invisible while in school, but my daughter and a lifelong friend from high school dispute my narrative. My daughter swears that it can't be right, and my friend tells me she thought of me in high school as someone involved in "everything" and being somewhat of a nerd. I'll take the nerd label over invisibility any day.

I was apprehensive before our dinner, yet I looked forward to reconnecting with many of the "kids" I admired from afar all those years ago. Maturity finally offers confidence you didn't have as a child because getting through life often requires courage. When you manage to find your way through tough times, there's an overwhelming feeling of accomplishment that you found your way out of one of those deep potholes while taking the road less traveled.

I kept wondering how I would recognize people I hadn't seen in many years and if, after seeing them, I would accept the reality that I was getting old, too.

It wasn't long after I entered the restaurant that two women called out my name. They looked familiar, but I instinctively knew they had graduated ahead of me. We had a few minutes to talk before the others started arriving. If you could have seen how everyone hugged and greeted each other, you would have thought we all belonged to the same family. And in a way, we do. We grew up in a little town surrounding Phillips Petroleum Company, where our fathers worked. All of our houses were company houses. Our school, homes, two churches, and a few businesses that existed when we went to school have been gone for over 30 years. The memory of our life there still burns brightly.   It's a rare commonality we share.

You keep hearing about people attending high school reunions and being surprised at seeing all the old people. I didn't experience that for one minute. The years seemed to melt as I began talking with each one at the table. Only this time, we were on equal footing. All the nonsense about clubs and cliques became immaterial. We were retired (with one exception), and when you've reached that stage, you don't worry anymore about what lies ahead in your career. You're happily relieved of the stress of making a living and dealing with everything it entails. Thankfully, it's behind you. In fact, the majority of your life is now a distant memory.

We had a joyous time laughing, talking, and catching up after 50 years. There were 11 of us at dinner. Seven or eight of the group were retired teachers. I thought about the numerous children they taught and how fortunate those children had been to have my fellow alumni guide them through their formative years. We had outstanding teachers in our small school, so the people who chose to teach after school in our town had to have been magnificent. One even returned to our school as a teacher/coach after receiving her teaching certificate. Her time there as a student, then as a teacher/coach, is legendary. The term "salt of the earth" came to mind when I thought of each person at our table.

Four of us from the dinner last night will be seeing each other in a few weeks at our 50th high school reunion. I can't wait to reunite with them and catch up with other former classmates attending. I'll be seeing the group from last night soon, as well. There's comfort in knowing that people who share the first part of your life live close to where you chose to live the last part of your life.

As I drive north toward Amarillo in a few weeks, the song "Amarillo by Morning" comes to mind and will be my "narrative" at the upcoming high school reunion.

"I ain't got a dime

But what I got is mine

I ain't rich, but Lord, I'm free

Amarillo by morning, Amarillo's where I'll be

Amarillo by morning, Amarillo's where I'll be."

(lyrics by Terry Stafford––may he rest in peace)

                           Phillips High School (closed in the mid 80s, and demolished in 2022)