By Kent Bernhardt
For the Salisbury Post

To update a previous column, I did indeed attend my 50th high school reunion recently. Back in the summer, I confessed an apprehension to reunions in general for a multitude of reasons, chief among them my faulty memory for names.

I was terrified I would encounter a bevy of friends who would begin the conversation the same way: “I bet you don’t remember me, do you.”

But I can happily report that since the invention of the name tag, such conversations are few and far between. I felt somewhat at ease with my fellow Mustangs of the Class of ‘73, and they with me. I regret I couldn’t make an evening of it due to a work obligation, but I enjoyed my time with friends I knew so long ago.

As reunions go, this one was nicely organized in an appealing location, and the food was exemplary. I had been designated to say a few words, which took the form of a “top 10 list” of the biggest changes in our lives over 50 years.

No. 7: In 1973, we yelled “Go Mustangs, Go!” In 2023, we yell “Out of my way Mustangs, I’ve gotta go!”

We’re all 50 years older than we were at the time of our high school graduation, and most of us look like it, to some degree. There were exceptions; school chum Patti appeared as if she had just stepped out of our yearbook, virtually unaltered by time. There had been no cosmetic surgery of any kind, just “a visit to my hairdresser,” as she told me.

I immediately recognized my old friend Eric, even without his sousaphone. There was fellow classmate Mark, who I sat near in Algebra II hoping he’d donate some IQ points to me. He’d spent his career in Boston and only recently moved back to the Charlotte area, his dry wit intact.

Alice, Jan, Joy, you were still pretty, just as I remembered you in the hallways of East.

A teacher and a coach from our high school were guests of the class. Steve Van Pelt did his best to help us navigate the world of music in the early ’70s. God bless all music teachers.

There should be a congressional band and chorus, and every member of the House and Senate should be required to attend rehearsals. They would learn much about working together in harmony and blending their talents for the betterment of mankind.

Cline was one of the school’s most celebrated coaches, and it’s always good to see him.

He’s probably forgotten all about my lackluster performance on his track team in the spring of ‘72. I’ve certainly tried to.

My only complaint was the same thing I find wrong with all reunions; there’s only time for brief, generalized conversations with the people we encounter. I’d love to know more about my fellow foot soldiers of the public school system.

We spent a lot of time in the trenches together — learning, laughing and loving each other before we flew from the nest toward our own goals in life. High school was our first clear view of what the future had in store for all of us. Each test or exam, each football or basketball game brought us face to face with either success or failure. It was our choice.

If I could step into a time machine, would I do high school all over again?

I once heard Our Gang’s Spanky McFarland say this when asked if he would play a Little Rascal all over again:

“I wouldn’t take a million dollars for the experience of doing it, but I wouldn’t give you a nickel to do it again.” Amen, Spanky.