Reunion

A diversion off the political path

This weekend, my classmates of the 1977 graduating class of St. Francis DeSales High School in Columbus, Ohio, are holding their 47^th reunion. Many of us haven’t seen each other in over 30 years. Living in South Carolina, I haven’t been to a reunion since our tenth back in 1987, and I was looking forward to seeing friends again. I had been planning my trip since the reunion was announced earlier this year. I had my plane tickets. Then came my first bout with COVID. And now I’m going to miss another reunion. It is an understatement to say my heart is broken. So, what follows is a letter to my classmates at DeSales High:

Hi guys!

You don’t know how heartbroken I am not being able to be with you this weekend. I was looking forward to reconnecting with friends I haven’t seen in over 30 years. And finally making face-to-face connections with friends I have only spoken with through social media. I hope you guys have an awesome time. I would be there, but COVID has visited our house for the first time, and we are down here in Aiken, South Carolina wishing we were in Columbus.

When I hear most people talk about their time in high school, they describe it as one of the worst times of their lives. I won’t deny that we all had our share of very difficult times at DHS. But taking the long view 47 years later, I look back at the four years we were together at DeSales as one of the most wonderful times of my life.

Freshman year, 1973-74 was an awakening.  Many of us had come from the confines of schools like St. Anthony, St. James the Less, St. Augustine, St. Paul, St. Matthew, St. Michael, and others to enter a world of new classmates, combination lockers (we had to buy the locks!), new teachers, crowded hallways, and lots more homework. Some of us took to this new world of classes and extra-curricular activities like fish to water. Some of us were overwhelmed simply by trying to keep up in our classes. (I include myself in the latter group). But we were coming together as a class – pep rallies, football games, and basketball games were among the many things that brought us together.

Sophomore year we felt more at ease in our surroundings. We had more classes, new teachers, and we got involved in more activities. We were less products of St. Anthony, St. James and other schools - we were coming together as members of the DeSales High Class of 1977. Junior year seemed to serve as a prelude to big things to come – we had just gotten our driver’s licenses, we may have gotten our first jobs, and we were starting to get brochures from colleges. We were starting to think of our future – our lives after DeSales.

I remember the beginning of our Senior year in Fall 1976 being a time of great anticipation. This was it! One more and done! September and October was lots of football. We were starting to think more of what was to come after graduation. November and December brought Fall, dreary skies, and chilly temperatures.

Then came January. There was a natural gas shortage. Then came the Blizzard on January 28; Ohio and New York were hit the hardest. The wind gusted to 60 miles per hour, giving us below zero wind chills. There was up to 12 inches of snow. The combination of the gas shortage and the bitter cold sent all Columbus area schools into emergency mode. “School Without Schools” was born. Long before the virtual teaching during the first months of COVID, the students and teachers of Columbus embarked on an ambitious plan. From The Columbus Dispatch newspaper:

The 112,000 students in Columbus public and parochial schools attended their last regular day of classes during that winter on Feb. 3, 1977. Columbus schools quickly devised a 100-page teachers’ manual and placed in service a “School Without Schools” plan for the city’s children that involved borrowed buildings, the city’s TV and radio stations, and The Dispatch.

Of the city’s 179 school buildings, 150 of them — those that relied on natural gas for heating — were shuttered until March 7.

Schools heated by coal, oil or electricity were used for one-day-a-week classes. Some businesses, including a South Side tavern, also provided meeting space, enabling some classes to meet more often.

                   I’d like to think that those four weeks were a crucible of character. Learning didn’t stop when our schools were closed. We came out of that month with an indomitable spirit that is with us to this day.  I never would have thought I’d be quoting Nietzsche: “Out of life’s school of war—what doesn’t kill me, makes me stronger.” We adapted that to an unofficial class motto: “I’m as mad as hell, and I’m not going to take this anymore!” (from the film Network, which had come out late in 1976).

            We still had March, April, May, and a little bit of June before graduation. But we were forever changed by what we experienced in February 1977. After graduation, we went in different directions – military service, skilled jobs, college (a lucky two of us were able to attend Kent State University). We even endured another, worse blizzard in 1978. But we will never forget Winter 1977. It created a bond that can never be broken.

In memory of those members of the class of 1977 who are no longer with us.

Long live the class of 1977.

David (Dave) Jaspers