66 in ’66 - Still friends after all these years!

Most class reunions only happen every five or so years, but my Milton high school Class of 1966 classmates meet for some kind of get-together almost every month of the year, usually for a potluck supper or at Irish Eyes in downtown Milton. I was a late bloomer at these events, but now the rebel has come into the flock, and my husband and I are devotees.

My husband Jeff, as a spouse from the northern boundary of Delaware and its biggest city of Wilmington, has "fallen in" successfully. In fact, when I was puttering around looking for my earrings last time, he hurried me along impatiently, saying, "They're all already there; come on!"

There might be different political views, among other things, but no one ever argues. They all sincerely seem to like each other. There's always cheerful and extroverted Kelly Passwaters Pettyjohn, who generously offers her and husband Eddie's home on Wagamons Pond many times throughout the year. And then there's Bonnie Ellingsworth Hudson and her husband Wayne, who host at their "Summer of '42" cottage in Broadkill in the warmer months. She is the glue that holds us all together. The ever-witty and entertaining Kay Hitchens Jennings always puts a smile on my face, and she and her husband Bob host our group beside their pool in August, complete with her fabulous cooking.

This Christmas we were sadly without our classmate, the energetic Howard Reed, who played Santa Claus for us adult children. He passed away unexpectedly this past summer before church where he was a compassionate member. Putting his secret ingredients together for the "best chili ever" for the Holly Day patrons and artisans was just one of his many talents. He also loved his retirement job working at The Rookery South Golf Club. I never knew until later in my life that he was such a Renaissance man, creating amazing bird paintings for everyone on card stock, and even on gourds! Every autumn he would travel to Pennsylvania Dutch Country to purchase gourds to paint with birds and flowers, and dine at the huge buffet there. He would come up with creative ideas in the middle of the night and get up to make them come true.

Our former art teacher at Milton Consolidated School was a wiz at making beautiful candles in a mold from crayons and wax. Howard created a beautiful big orange one much later. I wish I could have seen it. I think my mother, true to form, threw mine away a long time ago.

Speaking of teachers in Milton back in the day, there were some eccentric ones to remember and talk about at our Class of '66 gatherings. Most of the elementary teachers in this 12-grade school were Milton women, including my mother. A lot of the secondary teachers had come up from the South. Mr. Hubert Hogue, the aforementioned art teacher, often brought his huge Great Dane dog, Brunhilda, to class. I can thank him for inspiring me to become an artist.

Then there was the "chalk chomping" Latin teacher, Miss Esther Weakley. I didn't like the conjugations, but I have really used Latin a lot more than she would have thought to decipher the big words I love. Mrs. Wanda King, my English teacher, inspired me to write. I was the copy editor of our yearbook, and I wrote a play in high school.

Then there was the eccentric and somewhat frightening biology teacher, Mr. King Boyce. He would stomp into the classroom like Frankenstein, swinging a rubber Bunsen burner hose like a whip, barely missing teenage arms resting nervously on the black-topped biology lab tables.

My favorite classes were, of course, art, English, history, and surprisingly, home economics. Our history teacher was Mr. Arthur Butler, who looked like Richard Nixon. He would stand over me at my desk, his ice-cold maroon tie snaking up the back of my neck. I am now a World War II buff because of him. Mrs. Mary Morgan also taught history and often spoke of ancient cultures. One modern legend has it that as she was lecturing in front of the class, her bloomers fell off and she calmly went on lecturing and kicked them into an open desk drawer. She was that into the Socratic method! She also was the sponsor of the Press Club, of which, prophetically, I was a member. We went to a convention in New York City and roomed in the old Taft Hotel, where high school kids often stayed. You may have stayed there yourself. Our high school class went there and had dinner at the Hawaii Kai holding flaming drinks in skull mugs. Very exotic!

I've already told you about the martinet of a gym teacher who made me a private in her class when all others were given higher rank; may she rest in peace. She shall remain nameless, but you know who she is.

I almost forgot Mr. Eddie Rohler, a history teacher who was there for a short term. One time just before Easter he gave us an assignment to memorize the Morse Code. I was OCD enough to attempt it, and he never mentioned it when we returned from a vacation where I spent half my time dotting and dashing. Mayday ... --- ... !

Speaking of May, I am sure many of my classmates fondly remember the May Fair where we fished for presents attached to our fishing pole hooks over a sea painted on a screen, either by my mother or me in the lilac-scented spring.

Such are some memories of my 12 years’ time at Milton School. Happy New Year to all of my Class of '66 classmates, and to my loyal readers who have made me happy all year long!