Friday, Jun. 05, 2009
John Spevak: A voice from 50 years ago
Print
E-Mail
AIM
ReprintIt all began last March when I heard an unfamiliar voice on my answering machine. "Are you the John Spevak who graduated from St. John the Baptist School in Winfield, IL, in 1959?"
I was startled. I continued to listen. "This is George Lane. If you are that John Spevak, I was one of your St. John's classmates."
I recognized George's name. That didn't take a great memory, because there were only 27 of us in that class. But why would he be calling me? I don't think I had heard his voice in the last half-century.
"I've been thinking about a reunion of our class," George continued in his voice message, "because it's been 50 years since our graduation." Suddenly I felt very old. Even though it's only eighth grade, I didn't see myself as someone old enough for a 50th reunion of any kind.
"If you're not that John Spevak, I apologize for this message," George's voice continued. "But if you are, could you give me a call?" A phone number followed.
For several reasons, some of which are still a little vague in my mind, I was intrigued, partly due to serendipity. During this past year, after I had retired from my full-time job, I have been teaching a class part-time at the Los Baños campus of Merced College, a class for older adults called "Writing Your Life Stories."
One of our assignments (as the teacher I write, too) was "Reflect on Your Grammar School Experience." As I wrote, I returned in time to the 1950s, when I was a student at St. John's. I had even found, by chance, a photograph of the class at graduation.
As I reflected, I discovered that my memories were uniformly positive. I thought about the guys and gals in that class and recalled many good times--in the classroom, on school buses as we traveled for field trips, and on playing fields and outdoor courts.
I didn't remember any cliques or hard feelings among us. I did recall good times at many eighth grade dance parties held at different kids' homes, where we all enjoyed each other's company. Yes, our hormones were kicking in, but they hadn't overwhelmed us. We were moving toward adulthood, but we were still kids. We had fun, and we laughed a lot.
So it didn't take long for me to call George back. "Hello, George? Yes, this is the same John Spevak that was at St. John the Baptist School in 1959. How the heck are you?" As we talked, we both felt amazed that we had found each other, and it felt good connecting again.
George presented his idea of bringing us together again, back to Winfield, Ill., a small town (with a population of 400 in 1959) 25 miles west of Chicago. I liked the idea, and we exchanged e-mail addresses. I also agreed to help George with this quixotic adventure.
George lives in Florida, so it happened that the two people who would work together the most on a reunion lived on opposite ends of the country, about as far away from Winfield as you could get.
After I hung up I immediately started playing the imagination game, "Whatever Happened To?" In almost all cases I hadn't had any contact with my 26 other classmates for a half-century. Having left Illinois for California 40 years ago, I was even out of the geographic loop.
George did most of the work. Connecting with St. John's school (still going strong) and using the internet, he was able to find a few more people. He asked them, in turn, if they had any information about others in our class.
By the beginning of April George had contact information on 10 of the 27 class members, with leads on six more. That was enough for us to set a tentative date for a reunion: June 6, 2009. George had also found that two of our classmates had died. That left nine classmates "missing." That's when the detective work really kicked in.
George asked me if I could find a classmate named Art Randall, who seemed to have vanished with no clues on how to find him. I agreed. I checked various people-search sites on the internet and discovered there are hundreds of Art Randalls in the country. Some information pointed to an Art Randall in New Jersey, with a phone number listed. I called and got an answering machine.
I left the same message - eerily - that George left for me. The next day I received a call, "Hello, this is Art Randall from St. John the Baptist School, Winfield, Ill." I was stunned again. Art was one of my classmates I know I hadn't seen or talked with since the last day of eighth grade.
Not only were we talking, but it seemed as though we had picked up a conversation we had left in 1959. Memories were coming back effortlessly. And Art, intrigued as I was by a voice from the distant past, was going to try to make plans to come on June 6.
In the meantime, George was having some success "finding" four of the other missing classmates. With my recent luck, I decided to search for Bob, a particularly good friend of mine in grade school, and by the same blind luck connected with him (living now in Florida) and had another enjoyable conversation.
As it happens, out of the 25 living classmates, three e-mailed that they wish they could come, but can't. Two were contacted by mail but still haven't responded. Three ended up still "missing." One is not sure she can come. But 16 of us plan to be there Saturday in Winfield.
I'm looking forward to it. In a later column, I'll report on the reunion.
Comments on the writings of John Spevak, a regular columnist for the Los Baños Enterprise, are encouraged and can be sent via email to spevak@telis.org.