Ode To The Walsh Golden Grads

Welcome, oh golden grads, who have arrived
We're older & grayer but we've all survived.
Enjoy our day to chat, drink and eat
Before we go home and put up our feet.
Remember our proms when we could stay up late
Whom did you take -- do you remember your date?
We danced all night long without bodies that grew sore
Then jumped on the parkway and headed for the shore.
Now 50 plus years later, we're at the shore again
To recall past stories and show photos from our den.
We'll renew old acquaintances and hug a dear friend
Exchange a cell number and an email address to send.
In school each day we cut loose after lunch
Without acid reflux, we hung with our bunch.
When Friday night came, we danced at canteen
In our own nifty clothes, we looked really keen.
Can you picture boys' uniforms of jackets and ties?
The swoosh of the corduroy -- oh you cute guys.
Girls wore navy blue skirts of wool that was fine
If we forgot stockings, we drew a black pencil line.
To sports games we traveled, mostly by bus
Win, lose or tie, we were taught not to cuss.
The boys in their sneakers before falling arches
They thudded and squeaked, my how time marches.
In the schoolyard we sang, Chuck Berry's "Maybelline"
Our bodies were taut and probably more lean.
We prayed at novenas and on days of recollections
Never heeding to sinus and bladder infections.
Dead language lived forever with Sister Petronilla's Latin
And we girls were told never to wear shoes of patent.
Sr. Carola's English class instructed us about death
When she shouted, stirred and cried as Lady MacBeth.
Sr. Aloysine spoke of history while rocking on her toes
While Fr. Schreitmuller informed us of the Land of Pharaohs.
Geometry was the pits, when instructed by Mr. King
While Sr. Coronado directed us all to sing.
Sweet Sr. Margueritte who only spoke French
Got a bad grade, guys, you sat on the bench.
And Sr. John Gabriel who traveled on roller skates
Counseling girls about shorthand and dates.
Tiptoe to the library for help from Sr. Marie
Who pointed arthritic fingers of at least 93.
Each nun's face seemed scrubbed with nary a pimple
And a lock of hair never escaped a starched wimple.
So many good times, so many good nuns
Except there was one that gave us the runs.
The ominous presence of the stern Sr. Gerard
Created nightmares when handing out a report card.
That ice cold gray gaze that sent shivers down the spine
While standing outside her office in a very straight line.
The wait was unending, we thought we might die
We'd rather be anywhere sticking needles in our eye.
Precious young times before blood pressure worries
No high cholesterol or heartbeats with flurries.
No senior moments or artificial parts
Just collecting fond memories that remain in our hearts.
No aching joints and sciatic backs
No prostate problems and no cataracts.
No osteoporosis or curvature of the spine
But the marvelous wonder that life was just fine.
We're here now to recreate a different time
When a dollar was a dollar and a dime was a dime.
So let down your hair if there's any left up there
And be 18 again, if you double dare.
This is not the day to act your present age
Forget the aches and pains, create a new page.
We once were naive but now we're a true sage
It's time to wear purple and not drab old beige.
So eat with abandon and chatter non-stop
About the days of the wholesome sock hop.
Just enjoy being together 50 plus years later
With all the Walsh Classes, our dear alma mater.

Kathleen Jotz Gage, '59