Friday, Jun. 26, 2009
John Spevak: Back at John's buffet
Print
E-Mail
AIM
ReprintIn last week's column I started to tell the story of my eighth grade reunion. Today, I bring my readers back to John's Buffet, a tavern in Winfield, Ill., where 63-year old people are remembering incidents that happened 50 years ago.
Several members of the class, as requested, brought "trivia questions" about their days at St. John the Baptist School, to see if they could "stump the class." Among the questions were "What practical joke did Sister Alphonse (our eighth-grade teacher) play on the class in the spring of 1959?" and "Who in our class did a dance performance of Stodola Pumpa (a Polish folk dance)?"
But the best trivia question was submitted by Eileen: "We used to have white and chocolate milk delivered to the class each day. One day the nun teaching us forgot it was on the floor behind her and stepped back, tripping over it and landing on her backside. She returned some days later with her arm in a black sling.
"One little boy raised his hand upon her return and when called upon, stood up and said 'Sister, when you got hurt falling over all those milk bottles, Eileen laughed out loud.' Who was that little snot-nosed snitch for whom I held such contempt, and am only now willing to forgive?"
That brought waves of laughter from everyone in the room, as Larry (the right answer) claimed no remembrance of ratting out such a dear friend like Eileen; and, if that happened, he must have been hallucinating.
Near the end of the trivia questions, Kathy rose to speak. Kathy is a bright person, one of the stars of our class, who did well in spelling bees and essay contests. "For 50 years I've been carrying this traumatic incident with me and now I can finally get it out in the open, and it involves John Spevak!"
I gulped. My mind went into a fast memory-rewind, trying to figure out what that might have been, as everyone looked first at me and then at Kathy. For the life of me, I didn't know what she would say.
"I had won an essay contest," Kathy went on to say, "and was delivering the essay from memory on the auditorium stage, in front of the whole school. John Spevak was sitting in the front row and held a copy of the essay, and his job was to prompt me if forgot the words or lost my place.
"In the middle of the speech I went completely blank and stood in silence as I looked at him. He didn't respond. He ignored me. The words didn't come back to me, and I ran off the stage, crying."
Wow, I thought. Could I have done this? I remembered nothing about it. But it must have happened. I respected Kathy, so I'm sure I didn't do it intentionally. I must have simply froze. But then it must have been hurtful to her.
So I stepped forward, bent down on one knee, and asked Kathy's forgiveness, which she gave me. We all laughed, including Kathy. In the process, a bad memory from Kathy's past became a small moment of reconciliation, which typified that day's spirit of deep friendship.
It was now 4 p.m. We had been at John's Buffet for three hours, and the time had flown. We were still in the middle of getting caught up. Joe, with a house nearby, said, "Anyone who wants to can come over to my place. I've got some cold beverages and plenty of room." We checked with his wife Mary, who was also there, and she said, "Sure, why not?"
We spent four more hours at Joe and Mary's, which enabled all of us to catch up with everyone else. By the time we left, we had been together for eight hours and had found it all delightful.
Everyone who came said they thoroughly enjoyed the experience. Why was that? Why did 16 people have such a good time when they hadn't seen each other for so long? Several members of that class of 1959, based on what they wrote to me in e-mails, have some theories.
Eileen wrote, "There is a special quality about our class, where we all continue to wish only the best for each other. Despite years of being apart, we care about one another."
Art wrote, "For me, Winfield was the place I lived the longest before age 40. Moreover, it was a time out of time in so many ways.
"Days passed in an ordered, constant, and predictable pace to some internal metronome, moving like the quiet meandering flow of the DuPage River, train whistles and noises of passing freight trains occasionally piercing the quiet, the calmly repetitive cycle of school, sports, church and seeing friends, all so halcyon.
"Most adults were figures of authority and could generally be trusted. Roles were defined and dependable, and the world seemed safe. Death does not intrude frequently in the world of 13-year-olds. Maybe we can all go home again after all."
Kathy wrote, "As we stood around waiting for the tour of the old school, there was a real buzz in the air. I had been worried that we would have nothing in common, and little to talk about. But groups gathered, broke up, and regathered with other members.
"Everyone had some memory tucked away, and each one was brought out and passed around, remembered, smiled at, or frowned at, then passed further. From being something that was of little interest to me, this reunion became momentous."
Another person wrote, "We all looked older, some changed completely, some very little, but I felt that it gave me in some odd way permission to be as old as I am, making me comfortable in my own skin for the first time in a long time.
"This was a gift I received from a little Class of 1959, St. John the Baptist School, Winfield, IL. I shall be eternally grateful. I hope that we can somehow encourage others of our age to do this."
And finally, George, who started and organized the reunion, said, "I was touched deeply by what I heard and read from our classmates. The command to love one another is more powerful than we may understand."
Comments on the writings of John Spevak, a regular Enterprise columnist, are encouraged and can be sent via e-mail to spevak@telis.org.