It was cold and snowy that Christmas Eve as a group of high school classmates gathered, heady with the intoxication of being with familiar pals at the midpoint of sophomore year of college - though I can't say whether other intoxicants were in play. Sophomore always brings to mind the high school teacher who related sophomore translates to wise fool, though I cannot remember which teacher.
And so we went to The Reverend's rambling old house, a familiar hangout for us, to spend the evening away from the watchful eyes of our parents, before duty called him to preach the sermon for the combined Methodist-Presbyterian candlelight service at 11.
I see the red velvet maxi skirt Susan wore that night, hand crafted by her mother who was often found sitting at the Singer sewing machine in the corner of the den in their big foursquare house on West Street. And the care taken in curling our long flowing locks - mine tamed with Clairol's heated rollers - the off-white ones with the spikes. Debbie's hair was perhaps her natural color by then. Carol, always the lady, with her legs clad in panty hose and neatly tucked to the side. I was hiding in the back, always self conscious, and next to me Arthur. Not a classmate, he was new to our group. It was six months into our relationship and six months before we were married by that same Reverend.
Even the boys were dressed up - Jeffrey with his special tie-dyed striped jeans and a baggy sports jacket. He had affected pipe smoking - this one with tobacco, no doubt. Dan chose a striped sport shirt and there's Tom, comfortably lounging in oxford cloth and denim. Keck in the back, wearing a brown bulky sweater that was a bit too long in the sleeves. Was his hand raised to instruct The Reverend as he struggled with Susan's Instamatic camera or was he directing the action as he so often did?
This photo surfaces every five years or so as our Class of 1969 marks off the years since graduation with a reunion, and we pore over the faded photos in albums and scrapbook memorabilia to remember.
The Reverend kept a framed copy with him as he moved on in 1972, first to Mansfield and then to Ohio and finally back to Coudersport. It was found among his effects after he died.*
*I find when mining memories for writing practice, the universe often coughs up other so-called ticklers. Yesterday I came across a letter from The Reverend, dated December 23, 1981. I share some of his closing words here:
"I often think of you both - particularly since I have a Christmas Eve group picture taken in 1970 I believe. You are two of the nine people in the picture. Yes, Debbie Lewis is in it too, in case Jane wants to know. The picture is displayed in my living room. My love to you both. God bless you all."
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