These were my remarks at the brief memorial service I was honored to lead for our 40th high school reunion on September 30, 2023. We met in the entrance lobby of the new Grissom High School after getting a tour from the new principal. We gathered around a small table with a cloth, a candle, and a bell.
Since we all need little reminders, my name is Steve West, and I am of course part of the class of ‘83.
We graduated from Grissom in the year 1983. Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” was #1 in the charts, and Motorola released the first mobile phone. Mario Brothers were unleashed by Nintendo, and the final episode of M.A.S.H. was watched by 125 million viewers.
It was a long time ago, and like you, I had a lot of things on my mind. But the last thing I could have imagined back then was being asked to say a few words to remember our lost classmates 40 years later. I’m deeply honored.
We stand here and light this candle to remember them. I count 39 of them, and as strange as it seems, that averages about 1 per year. We light a candle because they are like “shining stars that burned out too soon.”
I can remember exactly where I was, and what I was doing, when I first heard of the death of someone from our class I knew pretty well. I was doing summer camp registration, and a friend bounded up to me to tell me of the death of Todd Walker, lost in an accident at the Space Center. Todd sat by me in Mrs. Ward’s home room every year. He was always fun, always sharp witted, played sax in the band, and went to church with some of my friends.
If I asked you, you might remember the first time you heard about the death of someone you knew.
But I can’t say I knew everyone on this list. I went through the media presentation some of you graciously put together, some had obituaries attached. Some I was acquainted with, others were less familiar. But all of them were important … to somebody.
So what do we say about them today?
I think of a quote from Scottish poet Thomas Campbell, which my mother found in my grandmother’s journal. “To live in the hearts of those we left behind is not to die.”
Today we honor their memory, because they live on in us. We are grateful.
I’d like us to be honest about a couple of things. When there are between five and six hundred in your class, we just can’t know everybody. Whether you went to Whitesburg or Mountain Gap, or like me moved to Huntsville to go to high school, we just don’t have the bandwidth.
You may have regrets that you didn’t know some of them better. Or you might have regrets about the interactions you do remember with some of them. I want you to know it’s natural to feel that way.
But we are now experienced enough to know people aren’t perfect, and wise enough to let go of the expectation that we should be. Kelly Caldwell Kazek posted some delightful “Reasons You Really Should Go to Your 40th Reunion.” I thought the most insightful one was “We’ve all had ups and downs since high school. We measure success in different ways. The important thing to know is these are some of your oldest friends.”
Do you know what helps me when I have regrets about someone I have lost? Whatever we may believe about the afterlife, I’m sure of one thing. If they are looking down on us now, they are doing so with perfect love and understanding eyes. We were teenagers back then, and none of us were particularly wise. We can put the past behind us knowing that the people we honor today have a more complete perspective.
Returning to the idea that they are like “shining stars that burned out too soon,” we know that some stars twinkle brightly, some are in interesting patterns that we assign meaning to, others are dim or slightly red. We may know some stars better than we know the others. But together, the stars light the night sky, and that’s what matters. There’s a bigger picture we are a part of.
I have an altar bell from an old church. I’d like to first light the candle, then read the names. Then I’ll ring the bell to call us to one minute of silence. Then I’ll close with a poem. Let us begin.
The candle is lit and these names are read:
- Carl Behr
- Chris Hallum
- Jim Pemberton
- Neil Stanley
- John Burgoyne
- Allisen Brooks Cox
- Kerry Edwin Vaughn
- Forrest Splinter Spann
- Chris Atkins
- Christian Sloan
- Tim Leduc
- Stacy Abeyta Tucker
- Eric Pickett
- Lisa Holloway Roop
- Pat Ferrell
- Del Hilbert
- Craig Hoke
- Michael Sean Gregg
- Jennifer Kirkpatrick Habblett Goodridge
- Tim Byrne
- Mark Lunsford
- Donny Featherston
- Peter Operacz
- Burt Cogburn
- David Scott Forgie
- Peter Sapp
- Phyllis Pope
- Anne Deletang
- Todd Walker
- Michelle Ballard
- Gregory Scott Canter
- James "Jim" Wise
- Stephen Francis Horan
- Scott Terrell
- Sharon Guinn
- Mark Magnant
- Desiree “Dee” McGlone Tumas
- Steven C Smith
- Mary Terrance “Terri” Newsome
I rang the bell and invited us to take a minute of silence. Then this poem was read:
“So many things have happened
Since they were called away.
So many things to share with them
Had they been left to stay.
And now on this reunion day,
Memories do come our way.
Though absent, they are ever near,
Still missed, remembered, always dear.”
As time permitted, I asked people if they’d like to say a brief sentence or two about someone we remembered.
