Hi, I’m Deborah Turney Zagwyn, and if I’d known 40

years ago that being High School Valedictorian meant giving speeches until my eyesight failed or my knees gave out, I might have re-thunk the position!

 

It’s a pleasure to be here. Thank you to the Class of 71 Reunion Committee for making this weekend’s events possible. As with everything, it’s all in the details, and you guys kindly took on the task.

 

Its been 10 years since the last time we met (we gotta quit meeting like this!) and in that time a lot of water has seeped under our individual and collective bridges. Our kids have flown or floundered, we’ve lost loved ones, acquired grandkids, our marriages have been reaffirmed or dissolved, we’ve faced health issues, some of us have retired, some of us haven’t…, the lessons at this time of life are kind of no nonsense. Our pop quizzes are heading into the final exam.

 

We’re here because we want to stay connected. Beyond Facebook! We knew one another when we were bright- eyed and bushy-tailed. This Reunion is the closest we will ever come to chewing the fat next to our lockers or out in the quadrangle or the bleachers. WE are the ones capable of understanding one another. We’ve reached the age of comb-overs, creaky limbs and crow’s feet, but we know now that no matter what worries and circumstances we’ve been handed and what genetics we’ve been doled out in this life – we remember what it feels like to be young and we can verify that everyone in this room once was that.

 

My father, Eugene Turney taught math and drafting and coached basketball at this school. He passed away 2-and-a-half years ago. My family never saw that curve ball coming – his terminal illness snuck in under the radar. He would have been interested in this pre-wrecking ball tour of his old workplace. But he would have been even more interested in the new plans for the structure that will replace it. He was a forward thinking guy. Resilient to the end.

 

In this graduation class we have compadres who are not with us any more. Like my dad, they are deeply missed. But how lucky we are to have known them.

To quote Cat Stevens:

Oh very young

 

You're only dancing on this earth for a short while

…………

 

though you want to last forever

 

You know you never will…

 

It’s a comfort being here with you. It’s more than the fact that I cannot be young again and neither can you.

It’s more than being curious about the ravages of time. We live in the age of Google, but we remember goggles. When asked, we say I’m good, but we remember, I’m well, thank you. Many of us can still hum the theme songs from Forest Rangers or Ivanhoe.

But NEVER in the presence of our offspring…

 

Mary Walsh, an intrepid Newfoundlander, actress and Canadian comic, has this to say about the challenge of accepting old fartdom:

 

 

…what is so great about being young? Just looking at the poor youngsters breaks your heart…tottering around with their pants down below their bums with their piercings and cuttings and brandings, as if life itself weren’t going to cut and pierce and brand them enough. And then the crowd going around dressed up like the bride of Dracula or Morticia or something…Goths. They’re into death. God, I love the young. They’re so cute. They think you can be into death as though it were a hula hoop or something.

 

I may be old and deteriorating rapidly, but one thing I’m grateful for: at least I never have to be young again.

 

You have to love Mary Walsh. She doesn’t mince words.

 

So carry on, Class of 71. I wish you and your loved ones health and happiness for years to come. It turns out that the job of valedictorian is more than the gift that keeps on taking. It’s kept me connected to you all.