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I was in West Virginia through
a weekend last month, May. The wife’s high school in Ronceverte had
an “All Class” reunion and she wanted to go so I drove her up there.
Neither of us felt up to it, but we did all right and we’re glad we
went.
Around 350 showed up for the reunion and I got to see a lot of folks
from Ronceverte that I haven’t seen since 1958, including some old
football and basketball rivals who played at Greenbrier High School
while I was matriculating at Alderson. Of course, the only thing I’m
remembered for up in that area are my sports exploits. I wish I
could say there was something else, but there isn’t. At least I was
remembered and I really enjoyed seeing those people.
Of course, I spent a good deal of time in Alderson while Diane was
visiting with classmates in Ronceverte and so forth. Some of my
friends knew I was coming and had planned one of their infamous
“summit” conferences. They hold these high level, expansive,
problem-solving sessions every few weeks. I’ve always been invited
but health problems have kept me from attending for the past couple
of years. In fact, my seat at the table (actually lawn chairs out in
the yard of the host or circled up on a small porch/deck) has lost a
few of the privileges and rights usually attendant to membership in
this august assembly, and I was thoroughly admonished and instructed
as to how much time I could expect to have the floor if, indeed, I
was struck with the dubious notion that I could possibly add
anything to their enlightenment. And I was reminded by our host that
they “use big words” at these things sometimes and that I shouldn’t
let that throw me.
Although this group is rather large and many of the members live in
other towns and states, an official meeting doesn’t draw that many.
The commonality, of course, is that they at one time lived in
Alderson and went to school there before the Big School movement
resulted in consolidation and the loss of all the smaller high
schools, not only in Greenbrier County but all over the nation.
Eight were at this particular meeting, including me. There was the
host, Ivan the Terrible (not his real name, of course, for obvious
reasons explained below), he resides in Richmond, Virginia where he
coached football and later became a big time residential contractor.
He inherited his parents’ home in Alderson and he has it up for
sale. He’s asking at least twice what it’s worth and justifies it by
proclaiming, “I ain’t giving the damn thing away.” He’s clearly a
Republican and refers to the more liberal-minded of the group as
communist.
Up from Nashville, Tennessee was Clarence Darrow, a well-spoken
attorney at law. He presents at these conferences as a conservative.
He’s aloof and gives the impression, consciously or sub-consciously,
that he is above the fray. He would much rather tell stories about
the people and times of old Alderson than engage in the discussion
about world politics that have a way of dominating at these
gatherings. In fact, he’s written a book called “Tales from the End
of the Bridge” which is all about Aldersonians he encountered during
his youth. Needless to say, most of the conferees are mentioned by
name in this book and every one of them is trying to figure out how
to sue the wily lawyer for defamation of character to which Clarence
responds by saying one can’t be sued for telling the truth. In point
of fact, in the book he paints Ivan as a Nazi and intimates that he
went to great lengths in the book to say that he presented his
friend as a real live German at school and in the community when
they were growing up during WWII, a dastardly deed that Ivan argues
deserves a handsome compensation which to this day has not been
forthcoming.
Another member in attendance was the arithmetic teacher, recently
retired from Eastern Kentucky University as a professor of
mathematics. He is writing his second or third mathematics textbook.
He leans to the left in his politics and claims he has taken
frequent beat downs at these gatherings because, as the consummate
scientist, he often challenges the group to articulate some
solutions rather than constantly dwelling on the problems of the
world. He swears that he was traumatized so badly at the last
meeting that he required psychological counseling. Somebody even
brought him a hard hat to wear during this meeting.
The official Ambassador of Alderson was there, too. He’s been a
close friend of mine all our lives. He still lives in Alderson and
comes by his title of Ambassador legitimately and richly deserved.
He describes the frequent return of the Sons of the town as a real
pain in the ass, “driving through in their rented cars, trashing up
the streets and then leaving us to clean up all the horseshit!” He
inputs to the discussion very little because, as he says, nobody
knows what they’re talking about anyway and chooses not to shake
their psyches with a good dose of verisimilitude. The Ambassador may
be the brightest star in this constellation.
The elder of this gathering was a guy who was a faculty member at
Alderson when most of us were going through. We’ll call him
Socrates. His daughter graduated with me in 1958. He is perhaps one
of the most intransigent men I’ve ever known. He remains so. He
takes the Socratic approach to almost any subject and simply asks
questions one after the other until he gets you to answer one the
way he wants you to and slides back in his chair as though he’s won
the argument hands down. But he is a gentleman in every sense of the
word.
The youngest member of the group is the son of the late football
coach who coached us all and whose positive impact on all of us
defies adequate description. His mother was for many years the
warden of the Federal Prison for Women in Alderson. He did his stint
in the military, was in Viet Nam, served in the Peace Corps and
finally retired from West Virginia state government after working
under six (6) different governors, each one the best to ever set in
the big seat of the Mountaineer state. Believe it or not, he tends
to embrace conservative ideas. Or he may be just trying to fool us
all, given his long history in West Virginia politics. He, too, has
written a book called “Where the Rhododendrons Grow” which is a
compilation of anecdotes about his life and the people with whom he
has rubbed elbows and who, he says, “helped shape him as well as
kept him working…”
Finally, we had the Judge in attendance. He was a year or two ahead
of me in high school. After a stint in the military, he worked as a
West Virginia state trooper. He went to law school and then became a
West Virginia Circuit Court Judge, the equivalent of what we in
Georgia call Superior Court Judges. With confidence only the black
robe can give a man, he readily admits that he is a Democrat, voted
for Barack Obama, declares he would vote for him again and smartly
defends national healthcare for “all Americans,” claiming that the
typical conservative ignores the fact that we already depend greatly
on the government in our lives, not the least of which is Medicare.
So there you have it, on the surface a group of motleys but bound
and bonded by their common experiences enjoyed in the company of one
another in Alderson, West Virginia and still very much drawn back to
the home place of their youth. The interesting thing is that they
pretty well represent the American electorate, polar opposites in
many respects on politics and in their belief on what role the
government should play in people’s lives. Their views mirror those
we hear in South Georgia. The arguments are the same. The barbs and
epitaphs they hurl at one another sound the same, except it’s done
there with the certain knowledge that nothing said or believed will
undermine their common bonds of friendship.
If only the nation could learn to disagree so amicably! |
