A STORY WORTH TELLING
“There are places I remember all my life, though some have changed.Some forever, not for better. Some have gone and some remain.”
— “In My Life” The Beatles
Lord willing, in a couple of weeks I’ll join members of the Mount Pleasant High School graduating class of 1966 for our 60th reunion.
That anticipation prompted reflection on today’s world through the eyes of the 18-yearolds we were in the summer of ‘66.
On Monday after graduation, I reported for work at Jerry Benton’s Monticello Highway peach orchards with a commercial driver’s license just days older than my diploma. By sunup, I was wrangling a refrigerated truckload of fruit to Dallas.
Life was tangible in ’66: whatever we could see and touch.
Everything else was a dream. Working was reality behind my dream of Kilgore College. Plans? I had none other than playing in the Kilgore marching band as I had immensely enjoyed at MPHS.
Life marched to a different tune then. Just simple motors and radios we tuned ourselves.
And look at what we’ve survived. Sixties muscle cars sipping cheap leaded gasoline morphing into computerized electric powerhouses purring like kittens, sporting digitized sound systems and performance way beyond the idolized cars we still cherish.
We grew up on transistor radios in junior high transitioning to crackling AM stations like KLIF in Dallas or WNOE in New Orleans.
We were the generation that watched rock ’n’ roll and country blend with Motown, British Invasion and psychedelic music. While today’s graduates access every song ever recorded instantly and on demand, we combed record racks at White’s Auto and Western Auto before joining the Columbia Record Club so we could forget to reject the automatic monthly record selection.
The “Information Highway” meant we hoofed it upstairs to the library in the old school building and hit the card catalog. Today’s 18-year-olds carry a supercomputer in their pocket that can provide access to all human knowledge.
In 1966, “staying connected” meant a rotary phone on the kitchen wall with a tangled cord. That came with risks, however.
When talking to your date, you chanced your parents or your little sister eavesdropping on the hallway extension.
Graduates today communicate entirely through glowing rectangles, using a language made up mostly of digital graphics and acronyms.
For me, looking back on a degree in psychology from East Texas State University, I had no idea I’d spend a career in newspaper publishing and marketing. Or that I’d watch the world transition from analog to digital, from newsprint to small screens, and paper boys to digital publishing.
But beneath all the mind-boggling changes, the experience remains stubbornly the same.
We stepped out into the unknown summer heat 60 years ago, filled with the same concoction of nervous terror and invincible optimism that graduates feel today.
We wanted to make our mark, find our groove, fall for what we loved — whatever that was.
Then see where that road took us.
When we meet to celebrate six decades of stories, scars and triumphs in a few days, the Class of ‘66 can tip our hats to the ghosts of the teenagers we used to be.
We’ll relive memories and compare stories, all the while acknowledging that, “Some have gone and some remain.” We’ll note that no matter how much the world changes, a good tune, the thrill of a fast car and a road untraveled never really go out of style.
Contact Aldridge at leonaldridge@gmail. com. Other Aldridge columns are archived at leonaldridge.com.
