More than 600 of us graduated from Wichita West in 1968. We are an unusual group. We love reunions. We’ve had eight now … every five years. Last weekend we celebrated 45 years since we left the Princeton of the Prairie. We did it up right.
We started with a Thursday night reception that filled the patio at Heroe’s in Old Town. We were asked several times not to block the entrance.
Friday night 120 of us showed up at our classmates’ Carol and Mike Kreager’s home in Riverside.
Saturday afternoon about 20 of us lunched at the Nuway on Douglas. Saturday night we packed the banquet room at Rolling Hills Country Club for dinner, an amusing program, and dancing. A spontaneous conga line snaked into the lobby.
I talked with several people I hadn’t seen since we left school. We had guests from the West High classes of 1959, ’65, ’66, ’67, ’69 … and one who will graduate in 2016.
Our reunions are outstanding. I can’t explain it. I guess we just like to party.
Our thought for today is from an unknown source:
“Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we’re here we should dance.”