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We shared a time, and a home

We all came home together the weekend of Oct. 23. We took time out of our crazy lives to unbend in each other’s company, like we used to. We share a history. It is a short story compared to the rest of the narratives of our lives. But a very important one. We shared youth.

Our youth was a time for belonging, participating in each other’s lives, influence, and living an arm-jerk away from the dark side.

We played outside until dark, drank out of the hose, and creatively passed the time with activities that we sometimes wisely shielded from our parents.

At the Dunsmuir High School 50th Reunion of the class of 1971, stories flew. There were tales about first beers at the drive-in, stolen beers from Ammirati’s Market, stolen cars, skinny-dipping slumber parties, the creation of a deadly paddle that was eventually used against its creator, fruitless Little League ball-chasing exercises, Chis Allen getting tied to his seat in fourth grade, and even a discussion about how a teacher got demoted to becoming a milkman with one toss of a desk. We were there! We were kids together, and in our hearts it was revealed that we still are.

Sharing a belonging is a powerful thing. It creates spirited bonds that only strengthen with time. We all grew up in the same era, with pretty much the same economic background, in the same severely handicapped sloped terrain, with the same unlimited, hopeful possibilities of a successful outcome in life.

This reunion wasn’t about status, accomplishments, skills, triumphs or defeats. It was about mutual giving and returning to a time well-spent together. We bypassed all the vain, meaningless stuff and got to the fundamentals of how much life we had shared in a short amount of time together — and had fun doing it.

It felt like coming home. To have had a part in something that was valuable, and to identify with so many is priceless. The memories of it are cherished. I think I can speak for the rest of us as well, that we all feel the same way.

We share a home, Dunsmuir, and that weekend we came home together.

Marilyn White lives in Medford.

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