Bob Sanders: What do you say at a 60th class reunion?

Talk about dodging a bullet ... The high school class of 1949 recently had its 60th reunion. I am, of course, too young to be in that class, but a year ago, beautiful Barbara Bobo, who is old enough but doesn’t look it, persuaded me to say a few words to the class this year. Kind of a younger perspective, you see.

I got more and more apprehensive as the date approached. But at least I would get a good meal.

Came the night ... and she forgot all about me! And B’rer Fox, you better believe, lay very low ... and ate heartily. But it seems a pity to waste those golden words that I would have very nervously orated. So…

You are all Depression babies, although you didn’t realize it at the time; your folks had always been poor. As a friend said, the Roaring ‘20s didn’t roar for everybody. You’ve heard the saying: We were so poor we had to eat bark and leaves and dirt and grass to stay alive. Then the Depression came.

But you lived through it.

Then came World War II. As I’ve said many times, as terrible as it was for millions and millions of people all over the world, it was a wonderful time for kids to be growing up in this country. Everybody was super-patriotic.

School kids would be let out to look for paper and scrap metal. Ladies commuted to the shell factory.

Rationing didn’t hurt much. You probably didn’t get over two new pair of shoes a year anyway. Businesses thrived, although it was often hard to find a real Coke or a Hershey bar.

There was a star in the window of almost every home. Nearly everybody had a husband, son, brother or father in the service. James Pierce did his part.

He memorized the silhouettes and specs of every warplane of ours and theirs. He says if a Mitsubishi or Messerschmitt had invaded the air space over our county, trying to knock out our heavy industry — the cotton gin, the blacksmith shops and the water mills — he would have spotted it immediately and reported it to ... the sheriff or somebody. And it worked! As far as I can tell, from my extensive research, not a single enemy bomb fell on our county.

We grew up. Many of us left home, some stayed. And those of you who stayed, it saddens me to say, didn’t do a very good job.

I give some examples: There’s supposed to be a bank on that corner northwest of the courthouse.

There’s supposed to be a Sinclair station across from it. Down at the other corner, Sam McDaniel’s Stand Station is supposed to be there.

Right across from it is where the Rexall Drug Store is supposed to be. That’s where Revis and Doofy made the best malted milks in the history of the universe ...

Troops, it looks like we’re going to have to finish this (almost) memorable speech next week. Don’t miss a thrilling word.

Bob Sanders is a longtime radio personality with WAUD in Auburn and writes a weekly column for the Opelika-Auburn News.