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. Nancy Baldwin Jackson 3203 Mandy Lane, Morehead City North Carolina (225) 718 - 3795 jacksonng3@yahoo.com September 24 Hi friends and classmates. It has been a while. The age - old question, “ Where did the time go? ” Shortly after graduation, my father gave up the ghost. This was heart - wrenching and such a life - changing event for me, like a slap in the face. A large dose of reality. In 1978, I married Tim Jackson, the love of my life. In 1980 we had a daughter. Over the next many years we moved around following Tim ‘ s work. We lived in both Bluefields, Rocky Gap, Richmond, Virginia, and Pearisburg. For a time, we lived in St. Croix, US Virgin Islands, cruising around on island time where we became certified advanced scuba divers. We enjoyed visiting some of the other islands. During that time I must say I did not miss the snow and cold winters. We returned stateside in the fall of 1997 and settled in Jarreau, Louisiana, where we put down roots for the next 15 years. During that time, we watched our daughter graduate high school, join the army National Guard, and go to war in Afghanistan, Iraq, and New Orleans during and after Katrina, along with several other hurricanes. She married and blessed us with two grandchildren. In 2005, I lost my only brother, Jim Baldwin. Wanting to spend more time with family, Tim and I moved as close as the warm weather would permit. We landed in Morehead City, North Carolina, next to the sunny beach. Late January of 2015, my mother gave up the ghost, and Tim followed May 10, 2015. I retired in 2022, and lost one sister, Betty Jo, in the summer of 2022. I am trying to start checking off things from my bucket list as my body reminds me I am no longer 25. I try to remember all those along the path that got me to the “ here and now. ” I ’ m so glad I could make this 50th and see you again. I guess since I am the one putting this together, I give myself permission to ramble and reminisce.

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