Looking in the Mirror

For the next phase of my genealogy project, I've been poring over my parents' high school yearbooks, scanning the pages on which they appear.

It's funny how yearbooks have names. My parents' yearbook is entitled "The Mirror." Mine was "The Bayeux," presumably like the tapestry (my high school being named "Normandy"). It was always mispronounced -- it should be "buy-yuh" not "bay-you."

But I digress.

My father graduated from high school in 1942. Inevitably, he was drafted and served in World War II. His high school picture is a delight. In it, he is beaming at the camera, his hair perfectly coiffed, his plaid tie an interesting contrast with his pin stripe suit. "Full of youthful exuberance" is the phrase that comes to mind. His career is listed as "commercial," his hobbies as skating and bowling. And he was in something called the "Hi-Y Club." Which, as far as I can tell, involved shenanigans at the YMCA.

Who is this guy? I think it would be great if we could go back in time and see what our parents were like growing up. I have a difficult time picturing my dad as a carefree young lad, attending social events and joining clubs and dating girls.

Oddly enough, my dad also kept his college yearbooks. I say "oddly" because he was clearly all business. No extra curricular activities. Thanks to the GI Bill, he was able to get a college degree after the war was over. But he told us he felt out of place, so much older than his classmates, and having experienced so much the younger set couldn't relate to.

By the time my dad graduated from college in 1950, he was married to my mom, and my brother was two weeks from being born. In his senior college photo, he is sober, unsmiling, all business. What a difference those years made.

(No, Mom, I'm not using your school pic)

My mom didn't attend college. She went to work for Western Union. I have her test results from her training, as well as her certificate of completion (also scanned).

I remember my mom hated her senior photo. (It's not very flattering, I think she was a stunner.) Mom was in the Glee Club and something called G.A.A. There's a little ditty under her name: "She's liked by all. She's on the ball."

Yep, that's my mom.

It was a little disappointing that there are only signatures in the yearbooks, no messages or clues about how they were viewed by their classmates. Were they popular? Shy? Probably somewhere in between.

All in all, I feel blessed to have these tangible items of my parents' youth. My friend, Rachelle -- her parents were Holocaust survivors. Hers is an oral history. Heartbreaking and tragic, with no little keepsakes as reminders.

Only the things she can keep in her heart.