Old? This Group Is on Fire!
Nick Reiher
Some people have “Aha” moments. I tend to have “Oh, crap” moments.
One such moment occurred in October 2021 as I was watching the news at 9 on WGN. They were doing a segment on the 150th anniversary of “The Great Chicago Fire” of Oct. 9, 1871.
Mrs. O’Leary’s cow again was implicated, but I don’t recall they had anything on a really interesting hypothesis of the cause of not only that fire that day, but three others in the region, including one much more destructive in Peshtigo, Wisconsin.
A meteor that broke up and ignited four fires, all along the shores of Lake Michigan.
Cool, right?
Anyway, the WGN reporter also toured the Chicago Historical Society to see artifacts about “The Great Chicago Fire” on display there. All of a sudden, my déjà vu-er started déjà vu-ing.
“I did this,” I said to myself of the tour of the historical society. It then occurred to me I visited there for the 100th anniversary.
“Wait. That can’t be right. I’m not old enough to have done something 50 years ago and remember it vividly. I can’t even remember what I did last weekend.”
But, yeah. I was 12 in October 1971, having just started seventh-grade at St. John Bosco Grade School in Chicago. My brother Gordon was still in the Army at that point, but he was working nearby and free on most weekends.
So, for some reason, he agreed to fire up his Vega and drive his whiny, pre-teen brother to the Chicago Historical Society so I could write a report on “The Great Chicago Meteor …” I mean “Fire.”
Seventh grade. Soon, it would be the last time I would see most of my St. John Bosco. Some forever.
At least until 2019 when I was hunted down on Facebook by a quickly growing Messenger group of St. John Bosco Class of ’73 classmates. They organized a get-together that July, and Tammy and I had a ball, even though she knew no one. They know her now, and just adore her.
Smaller groups have gotten together since then, one time at White Fence Farm in Romeoville. Yes, there is always food involved. Many of us are Italian, soooo.
We got together weeks ago to begin planning our anniversary reunion. 50th Anniversary Reunion. Classmate Trudy and her husband Jim hosted us for a potluck brunch, including a punchbowl filled with Mimosas.
Initially, we thought we could set it up in time for Memorial Day weekend, but we quickly found most of the places we were interested in had been booked. So, we opted for a date in September, after the weddings and graduations.
We needed a place near O’Hare and of course hotels, for the out-of-towners and those who might celebrate too much.
The brunch broke up without a firm place. But in the following days, the Messenger group once again fired up into a planning group as if it were D-Day. The women, of course: Trudy, Margie, Charlotte, Anto.
I was again amazed at the speed and deftness with which they attacked the list of venues, offerings and prices. So much so that I stood back and dared not get involved.
So absent was I that Margie sent me a personal message asking if I was OK. I said thank you for checking. I was just dazzled by these Messengers of Planning. She understood.
We now have a venue, a date and are efforting to get the word out far and wide.
We are definitely a very cool group of 50th anniversary peeps. I hope we see as many or more as we did back in 2019.
I can’t wait.