I noticed a Times article last week about my Alma Mater, Langley Secondary School, having found a cache of old yearbooks that they are offering to former grads.
I’m not sure why they would have leftovers — maybe they over-ordered or the students never picked them up.
I recall that the yearbooks were a big deal, especially the grad year book.
We all knew that the grad section was separate from the rest of book and we had the opportunity to add in a few comments that would live with us forever.
The day before the photo, the girls would get their hair done, some coiffured in those amazing ’60s hair dos. They would wear their finest dress, fancy blouse and maybe add a tasteful necklace and matching earrings.
The boys were all clean-shaven with Marine style haircuts.
To look at their photos, you might think there was one black suit and white shirt and black tie hanging in the studio and each boy took a turn donning it for the photo. We all look the same.
Five years later, when my brother graduated, he wore a powder blue tux with a ruffled shirt, platform soles and a mullet down to his shoulders. A great look to share with his grandkids.
A comment from many of the girls may tell us they wanted to be a future nurse, a future teacher or a future secretary.
There were no aspirations for women to be politicians, CEOs, RCMP members or professional athletes in the ’60s.
Most of the boys’ comments are about cars and girls, going on to higher education, with a lot of them talking about ‘making big money’ or becoming an ‘international playboy.’ It seems 18-year-old boys have not fully matured yet.
Mine simply says, ‘My future plans are indefinite,’ but getting a three-piece set of luggage as a grad present pretty much indicated I was leaving home.
I initially had planned to go to BCIT and become a disc jockey, get into radio or TV.
I didn’t have enough math credits and was planning on going back to Grade 13 in the fall. But over the summer, I got a job, a car, a girl and life got in the way.
Kids graduating now should understand how important that yearbook will become as they get older. Often we will meet someone on the street or in the mall and greet each other — “Hey, guy. How are you doing?”
As we shake hands the other person says, “Good, guy. How have you been?” After a chat about jobs and families, we go our way trying desperately to remember who the heck that was.
As soon as we get home, we go to the book shelf, dust off the good old yearbook and sure enough, there they are and now we remember who we were talking to.
Sure, they haven’t aged as well as you have and that’s probably why you couldn’t remember their name.
Recently, I looked up a former classmate who had passed away. I smiled as I recalled a memory or two and I hoped that he at least achieved those three yearbook wishes in his grad profile, if nothing else.
This June will be 50 years since our class graduated and many of us are still around town.
If I run in to any of you, I hope I remember your name.
At least that’s what McGregor says.