Hail Alma Mater,

Hail to Thee,

Loyal to West High,

We Will Ever be,

Proudly our banner waves,

Proclaiming our might.

We’re altogether,

For maroon and white.

Diane and I attended the 50-year Reunion of my class of 1965 from West Phoenix High School this past Saturday night.

It was held at the Doubletree Suites Hotel by Hilton on 44th Street, near the airport. What a beautiful hotel. I never knew it was there, and the food was one of the best banquet meals I’ve ever had . . . and I’ve had my share over the years.

The event was held from 5 p.m. to midnight. We have had reunions every 10 years since our graduation. We did have somewhat of a mini-reunion for our 45th, but Diane and I had a fund-raiser dinner in Rio Verde that night and we didn’t arrive until close to 10:30 p.m. By then, there were less than 20 people remaining in the South Phoenix restaurant where it was held.

The 50th did not disappoint. It was sold out of the 300 seats that the convention center room could hold some three weeks prior to the event. We sat at one of the eight tables the hotel staff set up in the wide hallway just outside the main dining room.

I understand that quite a few more were told they couldn’t attend because they were late sending in their registration materials.

There were 567 students in my graduating class.

If you take away the 73 who have died, then you can see that we had a good percentage of turnout.

One of the first people I saw was Lynda Phillips. We shared a music stand in the orchestra for three years. She was the first chair and I was the second in the second violin section. I told her that I had not played my violin since we saw each other in high school. She replied she hadn’t either, and, in fact, she had given her violin away years ago.

Next, I ran into three members of our high school basketball team; Gary Naylor, Mike Pensinger and Walter Guy. They looked as if they could play today. And Gary and Mike had very little gray hair.

Walt was a high school All American and played for Phoenix College.

The star of the football team, running back Bill Miller, was recognizable except for his gray beard. He went on to play defense at the University of Arizona and played part of one season for the Los Angeles Rams.

Freddy Nelson, an NCAA All American second baseman at Arizona State was there, too. He is still in baseball at the age of 68. He was drafted by the Los Angeles Dodgers, but never made it higher than Triple A ball as a player. He coached on the college level for a number of years, then he joined the professional ranks as a scout and in management with the Chicago White Sox. He spent 27 years with the Houston Astros and is currently with the Colorado Rockies.

He said he still loves going to work every day and talking baseball.

“I’ve got the best job ever.” Freddy said.

I felt someone tapping me on my shoulder. I turned around and it was Bernie Vitek, another baseball player who played on the 1967 ASU team with Freddy that won the NCAA College World Series. He now lives in Carlsbad, Calif., not far from my daughter, Holly.

We sat at dinner with Gary Kirk, who I ran with on the track team. I never would have recognized him. He has put on considerable weight since those days when he was twice a state finalist in the hurdles.

After high school, he joined the Marines and served three tours of duty in Vietnam. His running days ended when his right calf was shot off. He is in good spirits now, and we shared stories about our track days and Coach Torrance.

Here is an interesting note, to our knowledge, no one from our class lost their life in Viet Nam.

Later in the evening, I found my best friend from high school, Rob Slenske. He also was on the track team as a sprinter and long jumper.

He was also a practical joker. We remembered how he came up and tapped me on the shoulder in Chemistry lab class and asked me if I had a Kleenex.

I turned around and he had some amorphous sulfur hanging from his nostril. It looked like an enormous booger. I laughed out loud, and we both had to sit out in the hall for the rest of the class period.

Thanks for all the memories. For a couple of hours, we seemed like we were 18 again.