Notices have appeared faithfully in my email around the first of every month for years from Nathaniel Nazareth under the heading “Gorton Lunch.” In reality, Nat is forwarding messages generated by Merlene Mayette, who I was to learn last Wednesday was the heartthrob of just about every boy in her high school class, long before social media or for that matter cellphones, computers and the internet. One can only imagine how many unsigned valentines she received.

Unannounced and venturing forth for the third solo drive since back surgery sidelined me more than a year ago, I appeared at the Beach Café & Pub at the foot of Oakland Beach Avenue and Suburban Parkway shortly after noon. I was directed to a spacious room where Nat sat close to the middle of a row of brightly decorated tables with colorful coverings, birthday napkins and a vase bursting with daffodils. On either side and across from him was an assembly of 11 Gorton High School graduates, with one exception which was perfectly acceptable, and welcomed by the group.

Of course, with my arrival, there were now two who had not graduated from Gorton, which opened in 1939 and transitioned into a junior high school in 1955 when Veterans Memorial High School opened, combining the students from Aldrich, Lockwood and Gorton high schools. Gorton closed as a junior high in 2015 when Vets was repurposed as a middle school. Gorton is now home to school administration offices and has been used as an elementary school during renovations to Sherman, Oakland Beach and Holliman schools. It’s currently where Holliman hangs out.

Do the math and one realizes those graduating from Gorton High School must be in their late 80s or 90s today.  Gorton graduates are the only ones of the city’s three high schools operating in the 1950s that meet monthly to enjoy each other’s  company, share family stories, joke, remember the “good times” and, like so many of us, wonder where we are headed today. How did it happen? I hoped to discover the sauce to the monthly school bonding after so many years.

The group is adventuresome. They rotate meetings between local restaurants, seeking out new establishments, but as Nat pointed out, finding a space where they aren’t drowned out by the chatter of other customers could be challenging.  Their wandering, I was to learn, was as much to move around as it is to support local businesses.

Nat, whom I first got to know from sailing many years ago, gave me a rousing introduction. I was invited to stay for lunch and soon placed an order. Chairs were shuffled and I found a seat next to Frances Nardolillo, who I brought a car from some years ago and which continues to operate. Across from me was Marilyn Lang, who continues to be active in the Woodbury Union Church and whose late husband, Bill Lang, was president of Kent County Hospital for decades. On my right was Frances Allin, who at 93 was the senior member of the Gorton alumnae present. They believe former Gov. Philp Noel may be the oldest living Gortonite, although no one could be sure.

Whatever, and as I’m learning age isn’t a good measure of life, I was feeling right at home.

So, I asked, what do you talk about at these meeting? Marilyn Lang was quick to answer “mostly our physical complaints.” There were laughs, but that was really the only acknowledgment that maybe not everyone present was in tip-top health.

Warwick development, especially single-family homes on the sites of the former Wickes and Randall Holden Schools, a four-story apartment building nearing competition on Post Road across from the airport and clearing on Sandy Lane for more units lead to complaints about traffic and questions whether the city might need to build more schools.

“Where will all the turkeys go?” asked Fran Allin. Many laughed, for they, too, have seen the wild turkeys crossing West Shore Road.

Nat, who observed his 92^nd birthday that day, regretted that Jack Clegg hadn’t been able to join the celebration.

“You know,” he said turning to Merlene, who had baked an apple cake for the occasion, “he had a crush on you.” That evoked a chorus of “he wasn’t the only one” from women around the table. They knew. Merlene, wearing a smart blue and red checked jacket, smiled and coyly said she had no idea.

Oh, those high school days, they’re treasures worthy of recall.