The committee meeting itself was a revelation. Kathi had become the consummate homemaker, mother and wife. Glenda Irving Dodson was (in Foster Dyer's words), "gorgeous." Charles Norton had turned into "Chuck," an amiable, laid back teacher. Kay Edwards Packard was curly-headed, slender and lovely; Jay Cross, muscular and extroverted, the man who knew everybody and where to get anything.

   At that meeting we mostly talked about people. I sat with an Anchor on my lap, trying to put names with faces. I had not seen most classmates since graduation and felt like I was cramming for a final.

   Subsequent meetings were attended by Marianne Hartlieb McElligott (still the "most beautiful" and too nice to hate for it); Ted Trueblood (smoking a pipe); Rus Skousen, a free-lance ski instructor; Jincy Swarzbaker, a North Slope security guard; Linda Miner Spannagel (still happily married to Larry); and Sharon Lambert Ulmer, tanned and attractive. Dan Rodey kept promising to come to meetings, but always was too busy dating to show up.

   Eventually, the committee did get beyond chatting about old times and began putting together a weekend. We even met with the East High Reunion Committee. They tried to intimidate us with their complex budget and computerized lists, but we were enjoying ourselves too much to care.

   The night before the reunion's start, the committee gathered at Kathi's for a marathon plane-meeting session. Anita Boss Jorgenson, Diane Cook Pratt, and Carol Gustafson Goldsmith had already arrived and drove to the airport with us. We talked at double speed to make up for lost years.

   At International Airport, we immediately spotted Carol Gilbert Wilmoth who had just flown in from Texas. Cherie Bowlin Morrison (in trench coat and heels) and Linda (Kaup) and Lee Peterson, were already waiting. We formed a large, rowdy welcoming committee. When Lea Rene Roloff Martin and Barbara Umber Carrier disembarked, they were dazzled by the size of the crowd. On the way to the next concourse, Scott Williams appeared, looking "tall and beautiful," according to one of the ladies. Ron Cupples, returning from a business trip, got caught up in the madness, too. After a long wait, Winton Wilcox arrived. His hair was gone, but not his bravado. He made a worthwhile entrance. His exact words aren't printable, but it was obvious that he was on his way to a class reunion.

   It was difficult to go home that night. All the women agreed that if it weren't for husbands, children, and homes, a slumber party would have been in order.

   Contrary to weather reports, the morning of the reunion breakfast was clear and sunny. Mostly because we were too excited to wait any longer, committee members gathered at Kathi's house early. Glenda unrolled a gigantic black and orange "Class of '63" sign, and people began to converge.

   I had prepared name tags with Xeroxed Anchor pictures and opted to stay by the door and "tag" people as they entered. Despite the snide remark, "Didn't you ever get over being secretary?" I loved my job.

   People had changed. Lewis Leonard had lots of hair; Al Haylor was running low. Krls Gratrlx was the epitome of respectability; Tom Shook looked a little wild. Foster Dyer wasn't married; Don Holland almost was. Charles Betts was very tall and Patsy Ryan had shrunk. Despite the changes, somehow the '63 person was still there underneath it all, and that was the fun part.

   After the breakfast, which nobody ate, and champagne, which few people drank, reunion tee shirts were handed out and the entire crew trekked over to West. The new West principal tried to give an informal guided tour over the boisterous comments and continuous chatter. It was noted that the locker rooms smelled the same and the green marble floors looked better than ever. West felt strange, though, without its second floor that was razed in the '64 quake. People were a bit taken back by twenty years of change.

   Outside the photographer posed us on the school steps. He was patient with the catcalls and smart remarks. After a final try--"Say Reaganomicsl" he snapped a last photo and we dispersed.

   The evening event at the Tower Club was scheduled for 8pm. Pam (Porter) and Carl Brady had arranged for use of the ritzy 14th floor restaurant. The waiters were amused by our vintage posters of West sports and the '63 Senior Ball. We heard them snickering about the funny clothes and hairdos. Fortunately, they couldn't figure out who had been who.

   My husband and several other non-West spouses immediately headed for the bar. Others gritted their teeth and made the best of the evening. For those of us "reunioning" just talking to people was enough. Even listening to the comments was a treat:

"Anita Boss You finally got your braces off!"

''I'm looking for every girl that ever liked me ... even a little."

"I didn't know Pam Porter even dated Carl Brady."

"How can Patsy Hoblit be four months pregnant and skinnier than I ?"

"Ron Waters won't let anyone date his daughters who is a musician, drives a van or has a last name he can't pronounce."

   Glenda Dodson had to pound on the microphone to quiet the crowd for a brief speech about the way things were. Then, she introduced the reunion com­mittee and all classmates who had come from out-of-state were given a round of applause. Glenda listed the '63 Senior superlatIves, noting that both of the "Most Talkative" (Carol Gustafson and Winton Wl1cox) were present, and none of the "Quietest" (Jerry and Jim Baker and Sandy Fujimoto) had shown up.

   Then, Reunion Awards were given. I was so excited and involved that some of the winning names are probably garbled here, but do my best. Carol Gilbert Wilmoth had traveled the farthest to attend the reunion. Linda and Lee Peterson and Pam and Carol Brady were the class couples who were still married. Sandy Kelly Compton had been married the longest (since May of 1963), but Linda Miner Spannagel was a close second. Charles Betts was both the most prolific and the person with the most grandchildren.

   All the candidates for "Most Disgustingly Unchanged" were women--Cheri Bowlin Morrison, Karen Krogseng Packer, Shirley Mathews Orr, Marianne Hartlieb McElligo, Patsy Hoblit Reese and Glenda Irving Dodson. Patsy Ryan the winner, promptly put on her "Disgustlng" button and wore it for the rest of the evening. All men were nominated for the "Most Changed"--Don Holland, Kris Gratrlx, Jerry Pruitt, Charles Betts, Kip Mosher and Foster Dyer. Kip won that one. It seems as if Winton Wilcox won "Still Crazy After All These Years," but no one remembers for sure.

   The evening ended with cheek-to-cheek dancing, mostly, but not exclusively, between husbands and wives. When I took down the posters, the waiters were stlll trylng to find any similarity between the people in the pictures and the "old tlmers" who attended the party.

   It rained torrents that night. Our family picnic with East should have been ralned out, but it wasn't. The committee attrlbuted the unexpected sunshlne to the religious connections of a few classmates.

   Some Eastsiders were already at the Eklutna grounds when we arrlved for the picnic. We dazzled them w1th our black and orange tee shirts. (They had neglected to rush to Cartee and Sons the week before and have 100 hurriedly made like we dld.)

   Scott Williams brought hls brother's llama with cart and gave the chlidren rides. The adults drank beer and pop and talked. A few new people showed up--Jeri Cotton, Margie Murto and Betsy Fenno's mother (who knew more plcnickers than any of us.) Krls Gratrlx's beautiful babies were passed around and nobody could keep Kerry Kimura's four boys straight. It was a great game trying to figure out what parents belonged to which children.

   The picnic culminated with a great East-West volleyball game. East won, but only because (as Kathi sald), "They were bigger, taller there were more of them, and they cheated." Only the last wasn't true. It was Gary Randall's devastating serve that did us In. Even Foster Dyer, who made a fantastic save that ended in a mud puddle, dldn't care about the score. It was great fun and worth the sore muscles the next day.

   It was slowly and wlth reluctance that people began rounding up their beer bottles and children.  Left-overs were boxed up and signs taken down; the volleyball net, packed away. The goodbyes weren't very final, though. Everyone had plans for a rerun in 1988.