Thank you to everyone who made our 50th plus four class reunion a success. It was great to see those of you who were able to come.

From my room in The Mason facing Main Street I was able to look out and watch a few of you arrive. My wife asked if I recognized anyone on the sidewalk below and I told her no. I only saw some old folks down there.

Surprisingly I saw the same people when I walked into the banquet room.

Thank goodness for name tags. Otherwise no one would have known who I was either. Some of us may have changed a little bit on the outside, but I soon discovered our hearts had not. If they had they’d only grown larger and warmer.

At our age there are few of our teachers still around, but I did manage to drop by my chemistry teacher’s house earlier that day and we sat beneath a tree in his yard for a short visit.

He brought out his old paddle that had been signed by several of my fellow classmates after they had received an attitude adjustment.

Just for fun he let me know how the board of education felt, but sadly neither of us had a pen, so I didn’t get to sign it.

If a certain few of my former teachers had been in the room Saturday night I may have shared a few thoughts with them.

To my senior English teacher, Miss Kerr. “I wish you had told me that The Prologue To Canterbury Hills you required me to memorize wasn’t a good pickup line to use when I arrived at college.

To my Latin teacher, Mrs. Boswell. “Vini, Vidi, Vici may mean I came, I saw, I conquered, but my life was more like; I worked. I paid the bills. I’m tired.”

To my math teacher, Mrs. Carter. “I have not used Algebra a single time in 54 years.”

To my eighth grade English teacher, Mrs. Cunningham. I may have flunked your class, but I’ve written several books. Five have been published.”

“Oh, yeah. One other thing. You failed me for nothing. Not once has anyone ever asked me to diagram a sentence for them.”

To my first grade teacher, Mrs. Fulton. “Thank you for giving me my very own corner in your room. I own a house with 58 of them now. Not once have I had the urge to stand in one.”

To my third grade teacher, Mrs. Fancher. “Thank you for helping me reach my full potential and moving to the head of the class. Placing my desk up there beside yours really wasn’t necessary. I would have preferred to sit with the rest of the students.”

To my fourth grade teacher, Mrs. McMillan. “I no longer mind sitting inside during recess. There have been days I haven’t gone outside at all.”

To my journalism teacher, Miss Nabers. “That thing you wanted to know? Now I know.”

To my seventh grade science teacher, Coach Wood. “My name is Algood not No Good. My condolences on your hearing loss or dyslexia or whatever it was.”

To Linda Lee. “Thank you for appointing me to the esteemed position of mayor. Albeit mayor of Munchkin land. However, I don’t believe it helped me at all when I put it on my resume.”

To my typing teacher, Mrs. McNeil. “It really wasn’t me who took the position stop off the typewriter’s carriage’s return mechanism so it would fly across the room. But thanks for the memory. And thanks for teaching me how to type.”

To my principal, Mr. Clay. “Remember that haircut you insisted I get? You’ll be happy to know God took care of that little problem for you.”

Once again, thank you to everyone on the committee for making this reunion as special as it was. It was great to seeing old friends and reminiscing on childhood memories. They were wonderful and I would gladly do it all over again with each of you.

Let’s do this again in 50 years.

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Rick Algood
July 29, 2024