50 Year Reunion

I guess since I am the one putting this together, I give myself permission to ramble and reminisce. I have never been to any of our BHS Class Reunions, and my absence from the five group photos in this book confirms that. I really don ’ t have a legitimate reason why, either. It ’ s not like I was avoiding anyone, or mad at anyone, or embarrassed that I had gone gray or bald way too early. I just didn ’ t go. It just didn ’ t seem important – then. Now, it ’ s different. Over the past decades, the Lord has allowed me to be involved in some significant events – the closing of a high school, the opening of a high school, the centennial of a school, the seventy - fifth and one - hundredth anniversaries of my church, not to mention, family birthdays, anniversaries, and the hundreds of weddings I ’ ve photographed. Indeed, I have been molded by, and blessed by, the work it takes, and the joy it is, to celebrate something worth celebrating. When we were in school, history was not a subject I liked. I went to college to be an English teacher. Very wisely, Bluefield State required us to have a minor. I was always an “ average ’ student. I was not smart enough to major in the sciences, mathematics, or fine arts, but anyone could handle social studies, so I reasoned, and I prayed I would never have to teach it. From the very beginning, World History would be what I was “ assigned ” as a teacher. It took me several years to really appreciate and love history – and realize what history really is -- a collection of great stories, with intriguing characters, a twisting plot, enthralling settings, and of course, great conflict. How can you not love a great story? What follows in this book are bits and pieces of great stories from you -- 79 of our classmates. I was delighted to read each of these, and honestly, a bit disappointed that some from our class did not contribute. Like some of you, I never left the area. I have come to sincerely love this place, especially the kind individuals who live here, and our wonderful “ Four Seasons ” weather that never seems to get above 90 degrees for free lemonade. As we look back on it, growing up in “ Almost Heaven ” during the late 1950’ s and ‘60 s was a pretty neat time to be a kid. Wasn ’ t it? Oh, the joys of recess, having our teachers read a book to us after lunch, watching Saturday morning cartoons, playing outside. The list is long and wonderful, isn ’ t it? I ’ m sure our parents worried and wondered about us being teenagers in the ‘70 s, as our hair grew longer, if you were a guy, and your beautiful long straight hair got layered, if you were a girl. And oh, how our fashions reflected the times! How interesting to see bell bottom jeans back in style! I honestly never thought that would happen. Several years ago, someone shared this profound statement with me, “ The days are long, but the years are short. ” Indeed. Questions like -- Would our kids ever be out of diapers? Can we really afford this 30 - year mortgage? How will we ever pay for college? Will I be able to afford retirement? -- seemed to be bigger than life in an earlier chapter of life. I have never been to any of our BHS Class Reunions, and my absence from the five group photos in this book confirms that. I really don ’ t have a legitimate reason why, either. It ’ s not like I was avoiding anyone, or mad at anyone, or embarrassed that I had gone gray or bald way too early. I just didn ’ t go. It just didn ’ t seem important – then. Now, it ’ s different. Over the past decades, the Lord has allowed me to be involved in some significant events – the closing of a high school, the opening of a high school, the centennial of a school, the seventy - fifth and one - hundredth anniversaries of my church, not to mention, family birthdays, anniversaries, and the hundreds of weddings I ’ ve photographed. Indeed, I have been molded by, and blessed by, the work it takes, and the joy it is, to celebrate something worth celebrating. When we were in school, history was not a subject I liked. I went to college to be an English teacher. Very wisely, Bluefield State required us to have a minor. I was always an “ average ’ student. I was not smart enough to major in the sciences, mathematics, or fine arts, but anyone could handle social studies, so I reasoned, and I prayed I would never have to teach it. From the very beginning, World History would be what I was “ assigned ” as a teacher. It took me several years to really appreciate and love history – and realize what history really is -- a collection of great stories, with intriguing characters, a twisting plot, enthralling settings, and of course, great conflict. How can you not love a great story? What follows in this book are bits and pieces of great stories from you -- 79 of our classmates. I was delighted to read each of these, and honestly, a bit disappointed that some from our class did not contribute. Like some of you, I never left the area. I have come to sincerely love this place, especially the kind individuals who live here, and our wonderful “ Four Seasons ” weather that never seems to get above 90 degrees for free lemonade. As we look back on it, growing up in “ Almost Heaven ” during the late 1950’ s and ‘60 s was a pretty neat time to be a kid. Wasn ’ t it? Oh, the joys of recess, having our teachers read a book to us after lunch, watching Saturday morning cartoons, playing outside. The list is long and wonderful, isn ’ t it? I ’ m sure our parents worried and wondered about us being teenagers in the ‘70 s, as our hair grew longer, if you were a guy, and your beautiful long straight hair got layered, if you were a girl. And oh, how our fashions reflected the times! How interesting to see bell bottom jeans back in style! I honestly never thought that would happen. Several years ago, someone shared this profound statement with me, “ The days are long, but the years are short. ” Indeed. Questions like -- Would our kids ever be out of diapers? Can we really afford this 30 - year mortgage? How will we ever pay for college? Will I be able to afford retirement? -- seemed to be bigger than life in an earlier chapter of life. I guess since I am the one putting this together, I give myself permission to ramble and reminisce. I have never been to any of our BHS Class Reunions, and my absence from the five group photos in this book confirms that. I really don ’ t have a legitimate reason why, either. It ’ s not like I was avoiding anyone, or mad at anyone, or embarrassed that I had gone gray or bald way too early. I just didn t go. It just didn ’ t seem important – then. Now, it ’ s different. Over the past decades, the Lord has allowed me to be involved in some significant events – the closing of a high school, the opening of a high school, the centennial of a school, the seventy - fifth and one - hundredth anniversaries of my church, not to mention, family birthdays, anniversaries, and the hundreds of weddings I ’ ve photographed. Indeed, I have been molded by, and blessed by, the work it takes, and the joy it is, to celebrate something worth celebrating. When we were in school, history was not a subject I liked. I went to college to be an English teacher. Very wisely, Bluefield State required us to have a minor. I was always an “ average ’ student. I was not smart enough to major in the sciences, mathematics, or fine arts, but anyone could handle social studies, so I reasoned, and I prayed I would never have to teach it. From the very beginning, World History would be what I was “ assigned ” as a teacher. It took me several years to really appreciate and love history – and realize what history really is -- a collection of great stories, with intriguing characters, a twisting plot, enthralling settings, and of course, great conflict. How can you not love a great story? What follows in this book are bits and pieces of great stories from you -- 79 of our classmates. I was delighted to read each of these, and honestly, a bit disappointed that some from our class did not contribute. Like some of you, I never left the area. I have come to sincerely love this place, especially the kind individuals who live here, and our wonderful “ Four Seasons ” weather that never seems to get above 90 degrees for free lemonade. As we look back on it, growing up in “ Almost Heaven ” during the late 1950’ s and ‘60 s was a pretty neat time to be a kid. Wasn ’ t it? Oh, the joys of recess, having our teachers read a book to us after lunch, watching Saturday morning cartoons, playing outside. The list is long and wonderful, isn ’ t it? I ’ m sure our parents worried and wondered about us being teenagers in the ‘70 s, as our hair grew longer, if you were a guy, and your beautiful long straight hair got layered, if you were a girl. And oh, how our fashions reflected the times! How interesting to see bell bottom jeans back in style! I honestly never thought that would happen. Several years ago, someone shared this profound statement with me, “ The days are long, but the years are short. ” Indeed. Questions like -- Would our kids ever be out of diapers? Can we really afford this 30 - year mortgage? How will we ever pay for college? Will I be able to afford retirement? -- seemed to be bigger than life in an earlier chapter of life. I guess since I am the one putting this together, I give myself permission to ramble and reminisce. I have never been to any of our BHS Class Reunions, and my absence from the five group photos in this book confirms that. I really don ’ t have a legitimate reason why, either. It ’ s not like I was avoiding anyone, or mad at anyone, or embarrassed that I had gone gray or bald way too early. I just didn ’ t go. It just didn ’ t seem important – then. Now, it ’ s different. Over the past decades, the Lord has allowed me to be involved in some significant events – the closing of a high school, the opening of a high school, the centennial of a school, the seventy - fifth and one - hundredth anniversaries of my church, not to mention, family birthdays, anniversaries, and the hundreds of weddings I ’ ve photographed. Indeed, I have been molded by, and blessed by, the work it takes, and the joy it is, to celebrate something worth celebrating. When we were in school, history was not a subject I liked. I went to college to be an English teacher. Very wisely, Bluefield State required us to have a minor. I was always an “ average ’ student. I was not smart enough to major in the sciences, mathematics, or fine arts, but anyone could handle social studies, so I reasoned, and I prayed I would never have to teach it. From the very beginning, World History would be what I was “ assigned ” as a teacher. It took me several years to really appreciate and love history – and realize what history really is -- a collection of great stories, with intriguing characters, a twisting plot, enthralling settings, and of course, great conflict. How can you not love a great story? What follows in this book are bits and pieces of great stories from you -- 79 of our classmates. I was delighted to read each of these, and honestly, a bit disappointed that some from our class did not contribute. Like some of you, I never left the area. I have come to sincerely love this place, especially the kind individuals who live here, and our wonderful “ Four Seasons ” weather that never seems to get above 90 degrees for free lemonade. As we look back on it, growing up in “ Almost Heaven ” during the late 1950’ s and ‘60 s was a pretty neat time to be a kid. Wasn ’ t it? Oh, the joys of recess, having our teachers read a book to us after lunch, watching Saturday morning cartoons, playing outside. The list is long and wonderful, isn ’ t it? I ’ m sure our parents worried and wondered about us being teenagers in the ‘70 s, as our hair grew longer, if you were a guy, and your beautiful long straight hair got layered, if you were a girl. And oh, how our fashions reflected the times! How interesting to see bell bottom jeans back in style! I honestly never thought that would happen. Several years ago, someone shared this profound statement with me, “ The days are long, but the years are short. ” Indeed. Questions like -- Would our kids ever be out of diapers? Can we really afford this 30 - year mortgage? How will we ever pay for college? Will I be able to afford retirement? -- seemed to be bigger than life in an earlier chapter of life. Matt Poole 2651 Molino Bridge Road, Pace, Florida 32571 (702) 683 - 1077 matthew.h.poole@gmail.com October 21 After graduation, I joined the Air Force and went to language school at the Defense Language Institute in Monterey, California where I studied the Korean language. Like high school, I did just enough to graduate. Next, I attended the USAF School of Applied Cryptologic Science at Goodfellow AFB in San Angelo, Texas. Upon graduation I received survival training in Homestead, Florida and Spokane, Washington. After two years of training, I finally reached my first duty station, Okinawa, Japan. There I flew reconnaissance missions throughout the western Pacific region. In 1982, I was assigned to a new weapons system in Tucson, Arizona where I met and married my life partner, Lisa. Not counting a one - year remote tour to Osan AB Korea in 1987, we stayed in Tucson, had two wonderful daughters. In 1990, I was moved to our HQ unit in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. There, I was the program manager for the weapon's operating system. In 1992 the Air Force did a restructure, and they eliminated my unit. Anticipating being sent on another remote tour, I worked a deal that sent my family back to Okinawa. Once we got to Okinawa in July of ‘92, Lisa informed me she was pregnant again, and the Air Force informed me I was heading to the Middle East . . . until relieved. I finally returned home just before Thanksgiving. My son was born in February. Okinawa has always been my favorite assignment but in 1996 it was time to go. We went back to Tucson, where I retired from the Air Force in 1998. Not finding meaningful employment there, we moved to Las Vegas where I finally earned my computer science degree and worked at Nellis AFB supporting their training mission. In 2006, I found a more fulfilling opportunity at Eglin AFB in Fort Walton Beach, Florida. This allowed me to be near family and get back to my chosen profession, Intelligence. But politics kicked in, Command Structure was altered and in 2014 Lisa and I headed to San Antonio. There, I directly supported Air Force Intelligence operations worldwide. In 2023, with my eyesight failing, I finally came to grips with reality and after 48 years of supporting the Air Force and the Department of Defense, I decided to retire. Lisa and I are building our retirement home back in Florida and hope to have many years visiting our children and their families and watching our grandchildren grow. I guess since I am the one putting this together, I give myself permission to ramble and reminisce.

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