We were the class of 1958, members of the Greatest Generation as well as children of the Greatest Generation. Born in 1940, we are also called members of the Traditional Generation.
Our childhood, post World War II, "was the best of times . . . it was the age of wisdom . . . it was the epoch of belief . . .it was the season of Light . . . it was the spring of hope . . . we had everything before us . . .we were all going direct to Heaven . . . ." (A Tale of Two Cities, Charles Dickens.) At least, that's the way I felt about it. We were truly blessed.
- Ouida Tomlinson -
This blog is a place for 1958 graduates of Meridian, Mississippi, High School to stay in touch, post their news, items of interest and photographs.
CLASS OF 1958 MEMORIES (Click to read all posts relating to sports, honors, graduation and other memories of our class in 1957-58.)
FACEBOOK PAGE FOR CLASS OF 1958
https://www.facebook.com/groups/MHS58/
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SWEET MEMORIES
"It's so good, listening to old records
and thinking about you, yes, it is . . . ." Irma Thomas
3 comments:
Beautiful! Even watching it on video gives you goose bumps. Several years ago while visiting my son in the Boston area over the Fourth we were treated to special seats for the Boston Pops and fireworks celebration! Peter's military status gave us wonderful access. The National Anthem and God Bless America always bring tears and a lump in my throat!
May I add this?
The phrase, "amber waves of grain," - not til I lived in Kansas did I fully appreciate those words.
Ouida, Thanks for bringing into focus the reason why today is important. Today, we commemorate our past with parades and celebrate our present with hot dogs, ribs, swimming and, yes, watermelon. But, tonight we bring them both together with inspiring music and :
FIREWORKS
Not guns, not thunder, but a clutter of clouded drums that announce a fiesta: abruptly, fiery needles circumscribe on the night boundless chrysanthemums. Softly, they break apart, they flake away, where Darkness, on a svelte hiss, swallows them. Delicate brilliance: a bellflower opens, fades, In a sprinkle of falling stars. Night absorbs them with the sponge of her silence.
A poem by Babette Deutsch
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