Today is Rosemary Balest Bryant’s birthday, and I wish her the best.
Rosemary and I were great friends in high school in Little Rock, Arkansas, during the time then-Governor Orville Faubus stood in the doorway of Central High School and defied federal troops on the issue of integration. As a result, the city’s entire school system was shut down for a year.
Rosemary and I were not directly affected by this, because we attended the local Catholic high school and were not subject to the integration laws of the government. It’s ironic to note, however, that our school was as lily white as the public schools. The Catholic Bishop in charge of such things would never have considered allowing a Negro student to attend Mount St. Mary’s Academy in the early nineteen-sixties.
But Rosemary and I went to school and studied geometry with Sister Marceline who later left the convent and history with Sister Ita who stayed with the job. We collaborated about boyfriends and Friday night dances and homework during the three minute change-over from class to class. We collaborated even more on the same subjects during evening telephone conversations. Truthfully, I knew when she would sneeze.
Years passed, and we went our separate ways. But every now and then we touched base. Because of this, I attended the wedding of her daughter several years back and was flattered that she introduced me to everyone as her best friend from high school. Earl and I even sat at her table.
I haven’t seen Rosemary since, and our correspondence has degenerated into a thank you after the birthday email. Then nothing until the following year. No matter, I’ll still touch base today; because the thing of it is, it’s important to keep contact with people in your past that you had a serious connection with. The connection might not be the same now as it was then, but holding on to it is essential because it’s holding on to your history. And, as we age, there are fewer and fewer people who remember us back when.
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