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My 35th high school reunion is this summer. Both of them, actually.
I grew up in the Franklin County school system in Frankfort, Ky., until the middle of my junior year.
After my father took a promotion in Cincinnati, the family moved to the Boone County, Ky., school system just across the Ohio River from the big Queen City.
I grew up with the kids from the Franklin County schools, including my first two and a half years at the high school there.
So am I a Flyer at heart? It is true that I can still remember all the words to the school’s fight song: “Fight, fight, fight blue, white and gold; we’re going to fly right up and make that goal ….”
Then again, my last year and a half in high school was at Conner Senior High in Northern Kentucky.
I was fully prepared to be an outcast, but the kids there accepted me quickly.
By the time I graduated in their red, white and blue colors, I was proud to be a Cougar.
I’m now Facebook friends with many former classmates from both schools, and I’m getting high school reunion messages from both.
So how am I dealing with my divided loyalties? I guess I’m not. I can’t choose both, and so I have chosen neither.
I have sent best wishes and my regrets to former classmates at both schools.
I have watched them discuss their plans with relish, but I won’t be attending either Class of ’76 reunion.
But I’ll be at both in spirit.
Regular readers may remember me expressing my fondness for clear, flowing creeks and rivers over big lakes.
But I must admit I appreciate the marina scene a little better after my experience this past weekend.
My brother recently purchased a houseboat, and some of the family gathered to enjoy it at Cumberland Lake in Kentucky. The Grider Hill Resort Marina was a big, busy place with what seemed like miles of walkways between all the boats.
But people readily smiled and spoke, and on my brother’s houseboat row, they were an exceptionally friendly lot.
When a fuel line problem shut down my brother’s boat just a few minutes away from the marina, a neighbor on a high-powered Seadoo towed us back.
Then four or five men from nearby boats converged while they figured out the problem.
Later, as evening set in, I sat on the back of the houseboat, reading my email on my laptop as gentle breezes and the soft strains of live music floated over from a triple-decker houseboat that looked like it had room for half of Roane County aboard.
Later, I easily fell asleep to the gentle rocking on the water.
When we took the boat out the next day, we found a quiet cove and stopped for a long swim, then a little hike on a nearby island.
The highlight of our ride was watching a squirrel, for whatever reason, swim across the lake to the other side.