I was six when they dug the huge hole in the field beside our house. And I must say, my brother and I thought it was pretty cool living next door to a construction site.

There were big piles of dirt to scale and, later, large pipes to use as forts with the other kids in the neighbourhood. When Lambton-Kent District High School opened in 1953, we felt we had practically built it ourselves.

If LKDHS was big excitement in 1953, it is big excitement again. Our childhood next-door neighbour served Dresden, a town of 2,300 in southwestern Ontario, and the surrounding farming district for 14 years, until 1967. (It was then converted to the Dresden area elementary school and a bigger “composite” school was build on the site of the old public school, the one my parents attended, as well as my brother and I.)

But 2007 marks the 40th anniversary of the LKDHS’s passing — and what better time for a reunion. Everyone who attended the school in those 14 years is invited to return on June 22 and 23 to party.

I first heard about if from my friend Mame, who shared every triumph, crisis and humbling experience of my high-school career — not to mention my university days. Mame moved west after her marriage and has lived in Edmonton a good part of her adult life. But her brother and sister stayed around Dresden; Art and his wife, Sharon (high-school sweethearts), are on the organizing committee. So, Mame is planning her annual visit home to coincide with the reunion.

I had better be there.

Then, not long ago, I heard from Denise. When we were kids, she lived around the corner; our parents were friends, and she and I have been friends from the time we were toddlers. We travelled in the same gang in elementary school and high school. Like me, she ended up in Toronto. Denise is very excited about the reunion — and I had better be there.

I am going to do my best.

It is interesting, this desire to return to the scene of past experiences. It isn’t that I — or Denise or Mame — haven’t been back to Dresden in the past 40 years. But those hasty weekend visits usually revolved around family and left little time to track down old friends. In fact, with a growing family and a busy career, there has been very little time for friends, period.

But my high-school years —1960 to 1965 (in the days of Grade 13 and departmental exams) — were great years shared with great people. The student population was a few hundred and our Grade 13 class numbered 33, if I remember correctly.

Because of the size, you didn’t hang out with just your class. And you had many roles to play. I was on the volleyball team — despite the fact I hate volleyball, to this day — and the basketball team, despite my all too apparent lack of skills. But LKDHS needed bodies to keep the bench warm.

I was also recruited to the curling team for an interschool bonspiel, despite the fact I had never curled (but my parents curled with the organizing teacher). I loved it! In my later years in high school, I was on the cheerleading squad, the yearbook committee and the prom committee — which were much more to my liking. My friend Mavis, a farm girl, recruited me for 4H.

And all of these activities meant you mixed with kids who weren’t necessarily in your immediate group of friends. We knew farm kids, kids from the neighbouring villages of Thamesville and Florence, not to mention Croton. It was a great preparation for life, doing what you had to do — whether you were good at it or not — and doing it gracefully.

Maybe that is why going back is so attractive. Those years were the foundation for the life that followed. Those are people who taught me the meaning of friendship.

TESSA WILMOTT, EDITOR-IN-CHIEF