Boyden High School
Class Of 1960
Boyden High School Class of 1960
55th Class Reunion Weekend
Salisbury Post article published Sunday, October 25, 2015
55th Reunion of Boyden High School Class of 1960
The 1960 Class of Boyden High School held it 55th class reunion on Friday, October 9 at Crescent Golf Club. Around 74 people attended. On Saturday, the class met at the Salisbury Country Club for dinner. Around 82 people attended. Class members came to the reunion from many different parts of the country. Friendships were renewed and the good old times at Boyden were remembered. Cynthia Rivers Shoaf served as reunion chair and Ott Pinkston as emcee.
Those on the committee were W. Vic Bost, Ott Pinkston, Jo Poole Ingram, Linda Modlin Duke, Sam and Joan Day Nash, George Shuler, Carolyn Williams Hood, Nash Isenhower, Hayden Simmerson, and Larry Bowyer.
Those attending from out of town included: Susan Ketchie Critz, Ned and Linda Kelly Cline, Sue Carter Walser, Linn Waller, Ronald and Betty Bassinger, Norman Church, Joel and Pamela Hilliard, Linda Thomas and Jim Shuler, Reid and Barbara Tull, Linda Sloop and Thomas Nunalee, Wayne and Glenda Page, Fred and Carolyn Pinkston, Eddie Kesler, Ralph and Jerry Chambers Dearborn, Michael and Marian Montgomery, Kent and Gloria Goodman, Walter and Dottie Coleman, Shirley Sheetz Roberts, Bill Moser, Donald and Roberta Kesler, John and Judy Angell, Brenda Williams McClain, Bonnie Myers and Bob Benza & daughter, Cynthia Rivers and Tony Shoaf.
Those attending from Salisbury included Tom and Ann Thurston, Robert and Sally Gobble Chilcott, Ken and Brenda Chambers, George and Sondra Shuler, Frankie Cooper Kluttz, Loretta Bulla Ennis, Roland Bassinger, Jo Poole Ingram, Sam and Joan Day Nash, Linda Modlin and John Duke, W. Vic and Bunni Bost, Gloria Bearden Schenk, Lee and Mona Wallace, Doug and Marsha Lamb Frick, Ott and Julie Pinkston, Hayden Simmerson, Barbara Bowers Fox, Tommy and Peggy Yarborough, Toby an Janet Lee, Brenda Shaver, Merrimon Gregory and Nash and Valinda Isenhower.
One of the highlights of the 55th reunion was a letter written by our classmate Pam Whisenant Miller. While she was unable to attend the reunion, her letter was read by Hayden Simmerson at the Saturday night event:
Oh, to have a magic lantern complete with genie, one of my three wishes would be to be with y'all right now. I miss each and every one of you.
One everlasting memory of our high school years is that, as a class, we were nice to each other . Inconsequential was whether your family owned half the city or survived on welfare, which church or synagogue, or not, you attended or your ancestral heritage. Although our schools were segregated by race, I believe we could and should have integrated with ease and acceptance of our irrelevant skin color. We respected each other. Maybe my memory is faulty but I don't think I ever witnessed a circular crowd around two angry people at war; the crowd screaming for blood. After teaching for 45 years (what was I thinking?), I witnessed these battles becoming more violent and frequent.
For the most part, the only people we ever ridiculed were substitute teachers. Oh, we were noisy and thought ourselves hilarious! There was one student, however, that we all dissed behind his back, but I'm sure he felt he vibes. I still carry guilt about the way we snickered at Bill Pence and the consequence that wrought.
Short time warp here---At the age of 5, across the street from my dad's store, I espied a girl who was just my size. To my mom I said, "I want to play with that girl." So began a close friendship that lasted for 68 years with my BFF, Joan Gavron (Price). She became part of our family, spending weekends, beach trips and family reunions. Although as adults we were separated by many miles, whenever we talked or visited it was if we had never been apart.
Joan's distinctive creativity grew more amazing with each passing year. Many of her paintings were sold and I am the grateful recipient of several as gifts. She shared freely her unique jewelry and yearly hand-painted Christmas cards. During the two years of her battle with cancer we spoke often of memories. She coaxed a promise from me that is I could not attend the next reunion that I would write some of those memories for her to read to the class. No, she can't read them. but I know she can hear that I kept my promise. So, here goes.
All in all we were pretty straight arrow. None of the girls drank alcohol, to my knowledge, but I can't speak for the boys. We, however, had our moments of adolescence rebellion.
Who else remembers the day I got my driver's license? All the way back from the DMV, my dad reiterated the importance of safety and caution. I dutifully promised and agreed with every thing he said. He allowed me to use the car for a couple of hours, then pick him up from work. I drove away carefully until the door closed behind him, crept around the corner to pick up Joan.
Gentlewomen, start your engines! We raced to Fulton St. Drugstore, burned rubber into the parking lot and opened the doors. Girls piled in until every square inch was occupied. We took off for Main St like Batman and gunned it all the way to Spencer. There were arms, legs and heads sticking out the windows. With tailgate down and four or five girls swinging from it, we turned around towards Salisbury. Miraculously no one was hurt and I made it back in time to pick up my dad.
He looked around, took off his glasses, cleaned them with his handkerchief, looked around again at all the empty soda cups, Moon Pie wrappers and peanut shells. Then he said, “You've got a lot of cleaning up to do before your mother sees this!.” My Dad was so cool!
Later that night, as I reflected on the day’s events, while what we had done was fun, oh yeah, but not so smart. Decided then to, in the future, drive the way I was taught. But all the caution in the handbook couldn't prevent the near catastrophe that occurred later.
About a year later I took that same car , with another jumble of girls squeezed in, to the drive-in movie out on 601. The flick was “Thunder Road" (remember, bootleggers, car chases and white lightnin', bad choice). A steady rain started just as we exited. The car hit a slick spot and began spinning like a top. I knew not to brake. Just as I was trying to steady it, the girl on my left grabbed the wheel to help me. HELP ME! Now the car was spinning and rocking! When it came to an abrupt halt, we were at a 45 degree angle (thank you, Ms. Nicholson) in a muddy gully.
Must insert a little background here. My boyfriend, Bill Eaton, had given me a charm bracelet with all of his athletic medals on it. That sucker was heavy--whoa I was so proud that I only took it off to clean it daily. Mom said that I was like a cat with a bell around his neck. Everytime I moved my arm, it jingled. As we sat in that car in shock, Joan tapped me on the shoulder and asked, "Is your bracelet okay?”
Our guardian angels must have been working overtime because no one was injured, except the car. It was so totaled. Maybe the fact that we were packed in so tightly served as seat belts and air bags. Cars did not come equipped with those then. Anyway, my dad was not so cool,
98% of the time, okay, 95% - 93%, I was a law-abiding, church going, choir singing, piano playing average girl. But there was this little imp with horns that popped up on my shoulder when I least expected it and made mischief. Freshman year in the dentist's office on one of the top floors of the Wallace Building (now the Plaza), I was waiting with my mom. Also waiting were Bud Mickle and Joan with their moms. FYI--I'm not absolutely certain it was Joan, might have been another classmate. Anyway we three telecommunicated to one another that we were much too old to be sitting with our moms and silently slipped out into the foyer. There was a large window with no screen and a convenient water fountain. Also, conveniently, Bud had a pocket full of balloons.
Water bomb heaven. Until, I let one fly just as a policeman was exiting the 1st floor door. Score! Right on his head. He looked up as we stood frozen for about 30 seconds before racing back into the waiting room to hide behind our moms' skirts. Minutes later we heard the elevator. The "occifer" pointed at the three of us and motioned us outside. He must have had a soft spot for teenage antics . After a stern lecture he just made us go down and clean up the debris.
Remember the red couch in Mr.Nettles’ office? I had never been a resident there until this incident. Joan was not complicit in, it is all on me.
The Yellow Jacket was to come out on April 1st. Deciding to write an April Fool's satire for the front page. It was insanely silly, corny and spared no one, not even me. I made myself a yellow jacket with a microphone pestering all the students and staff. Too bad that I can't remember more of it. I think that I had Norman Church being visited by his relatives, Presbyterian, Catholic, etc. Ms Gordner was wearing her toga and greeting everyone with carpe diem. All of the sets of twins were engaged in tag team wrestling matches. There was one sentence that landed me on the red couch. It went something like, "an old grey goat munching on briary nettles"
I had shown it to Ms Gordner for approval and she said in that beautiful squeaky voice," I think we could use a little levity." Mr. Nettles evidently did not think so. He was red with rage and indignation and demanded an apology, to which I instantly complied.
Joan, we all wish that you, Don, Genie, George and all the others were in this room and I believe you all are. We love you.
As much as I love living here, I wish I could see and hear more from any or all of you. So, if anyone is so inclined, please email to me at: firstname.lastname@example.org
God Bless all y'all!