By Leslie Toldo
“The Ruby Jubilee? What is that?” you ask.
That’s what some people call a 40th anniversary. I am not sure why Ruby earned that distinction, but I can tell you that it wouldn’t matter what kind of stone was involved; in my mind, celebrating your 40th anniversary of anything means one thing: You’re getting old. I guess maybe that is why only about a fifth of my senior class — the Class of 1986 — decided to attend our reunion this summer.
I was there. I even helped plan the event in my hometown, Baton Rouge, Louisiana. I was president of my student body and vice president of my senior class. It is now my duty to be involved in these things. There were three of us on the planning committee. We met via Zoom and over the phone, and we exchanged numerous texts.
All the three of us wanted was to put together a great evening of reminiscing and totally awesome ‘80s music. We pulled it off, including a great venue and food. There was just one little problem: It was like pulling teeth trying to convince our former classmates to attend.
Never in history has it been easier to pull together a class reunion than it is in 2026, because we now have the internet and social media to help us track people down. Ironically, our 1996 10-year reunion was better attended than this one. The crowd seems to get smaller every five years since that first get-together at the old skating rink.
My grandmother spoke fondly of her class reunions, which went on until she was well into her 80s. They didn’t seem to have any trouble drawing a crowd.
Could social media be killing reunions? It’s so easy to keep in touch with people nowadays.
More than one former classmate got candid with me and said, “I keep in touch with the people I care about. I don’t need a reunion.”
If you share those sentiments about your own high school reunion, hold the phone. I am here to tell you, there are people you haven’t thought of since graduation who will make your heart skip a beat the moment you lay eyes on them. I looked around the room at the small crowd in Baton Rouge this year, and I was amazed by how many people I had known not just since high school but since fourth grade.
I spent the first nine years of my life as an Army brat. We moved around a lot. It was hard to form connections with other kids. The people in this hall with me were lifelong friends. Sure, many of us had lost touch, and some of us looked a little different than we did 40 years ago (that’s why they make name tags), but that connection was still there.
I remember how my grandmother used to talk about her former classmates. She treasured the bond she shared with them. As the years rolled by and many of those old friends passed away, she truly missed them in the way you can only miss something so familiar.
My fellow committee members and I vowed, after this year’s debacle, that we would not be involved in planning another class reunion. However, I am starting to rethink that. I want to see these people, and I can only hope that as the years go by, more of them will realize what Bob Hope once said: “When we recall the past, we usually find that it is the simplest things, not the great occasions, that in retrospect give off the greatest glow of happiness.”
An Emmy-nominated anchor/meteorologist/reporter at FOX66 and NBC25, Leslie Toldo recently retired from TV news after a career of over 30 years, nearly 20 in Flint. She is a blogger, writer, wedding and funeral officiant. Born and raised in Baton Rouge, LA, she graduated from the University of Wyoming. An avid kayaker, boater and runner, Leslie lives in Linden with her husband, Ellie the cat and three dogs: Henry, Gus and Lucy.
