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. Brock Whitman Smith 1833 Horsepen Road, Horsepen, Virginia 24619 (276) 282 - 0704 bwsmithwvva@gmail.com August 12 Graduated from Bluefield College May of 1977 with an Associate Degree in Business Administration. Transferred to Concord the fall of ‘77 and completed my Bachelor of Science degree in Community Development and Regional Planning May of ‘79. Just prior to graduating I was offered the position of Webster County Coordinator. This position was charged with applying for and administering Federal and State grants. Some of you may remember the Webster County Woodchoppers Festival held every Memorial Day weekend. They hosted the World Championship Woodchoppers contests. I was youth leader at the First Baptist Church in Webster Springs for high school kids. So one day I was approached about becoming Scoutmaster for the local Troop 218. I cautiously accepted although I had never been a scout. Well as luck would have it one of the scouts had a sister who I started dating and on May 9, 1981 Peggy Jo Kessler became Mrs. Brock W. Smith. Our first daughter Ingrid Brooke Smith came along December 22 of that year and now we are a family! Spring of ‘82 comes along and it's time to move back to Bluefield. I started with Hardees April 20, 1982 as an assistant manager trainee. Our second daughter Amber Rose Smith came along March 8, 1984. After working as General Manager of Hardees in Mercer Mall for about a year, I became District Manager August of ‘84 and would hold that position until January, 2016. Our first granddaughter, Demiah Reasby, came along August 3, 2001 and shortly after 9/11 our second granddaughter Jeralyn Smith was born on the prettiest blue sky day October 12, 2001. April 15, 2004 granddaughter #3 was born, Beyonce Nina Diamond Wallace. On February 12, 2008 Summer Rain Wallace was born. She is granddaughter #4. December 27, 2018 we entered the arena of great grandparenthood. Zayne Reasby is his name. March 31, 2023 Zia Reasby was born and she shares a birthday with my mother. November 9, 2024 Lennox Massey was born. Great grandchild #3. As for Peggy and I, I am Food Service Supervisor at Pocahontas State Prison, and Peggy works in Patient Access at Carilion, Tazewell. I guess since I am the one putting this together, I give myself permission to ramble and reminisce. So after we graduated in June of ‘75 here is what I have been up to since.

2

2

2

2

144