To all the graduates of 2026, that’s a wrap. You have completed a chapter in your journey. I hope the memories you have experienced are cherished, laughed about, and shared for many years. Learn from the bad memories and grow. The next generation needs you!
I began to reminisce about my own senior year and graduation. Even though it’s been a couple of years, the memories still have a special place in my heart. There are so many! First, I have to say this: “We were super, we were great, we were the class of ’78!” Yes, you do the math.
If I had told that girl in 1978 that she’d be a single mom, retired after 31 years of working, sitting on my couch writing a story about days gone by, I’d have just laughed. But here we are!
Looking at the girl in the picture accepting her diploma, I think about my parents and what it meant for us to graduate from high school. I was the second sibling in my family to graduate. Neither of my parents were able to accomplish that. My dad quit school after the 8th grade, lied about his age, and went to work in the oilfield to help his family. Mom quit in the middle of her senior year to marry my dad and move to California so he could finish his time in the Marines.
Years after all of her children left home, she went back and got her GED. She had the same teacher who taught all three of us, Marjorie Anderson!
The girls in our class chose to wear white caps and gowns while the boys wore Hennessey blue. Looking at this picture, I have flashbacks of those pantyhose we wore. You know, the ones in the eggs!
That fall of 1978, I loaded up my ’63 Chevy Impala, four-door, and headed off to college. I named my Impala “Myrna.” I have no clue as to why, but Myrna fit her! She was a tank and got me anywhere I ventured to drive.
Cell phones had not come into existence yet, so my dad had installed a CB radio for safety reasons. I had to make it to school before the switchboard shut down for the night. Most of the time, I called home collect after 6:30 when the long-distance rates went down.
The people who signed our diplomas have all passed, but their memories are still with me. Jack Funderberg was our only principal throughout all the years of our school journey. When we moved from one school to another, he tagged along! Paul Babiak was our superintendent.
Years later, after I had lost both my parents, being an orphan hit hard, even at that age. Paul Babiak hugged me and told me he would adopt me, even though both my brothers were behind me motioning, “Nooooooo!” He laughed, and I knew it was one of those hugs where you just felt love.
Dr. Fast was our local doctor in Hennessey. She pierced my ears, took out my tonsils, and took care of all our ailments. Dr. Nickolas was our eye doctor, and we all had glasses!
Forty-eight years has brought the loss of many, and most recently we lost Marilyn Buckner. Marilyn was our high school secretary. She kept the front office working smoothly and cheered on any student who came through the door! Not to mention, she was the biggest Elvis Presley fan.
If I could give that girl in 1978 any words of wisdom from the girl in 2026, I’d tell her: don’t settle, hold tight to your faith, and know that you are worthy.
Man, I sure wish I still had Myrna sitting in my driveway. We’d have to cruise!
