" Ronald Regan introduces American public to "Star Wars."
" Sally K. Ride, 32, first U.S. woman astronaut in space as a crewmember aboard space shuttle Challenger (June 18).
" Suicide Bomber explosion kills 237 U.S. Marines in Beirut (Oct. 23).
" U.S. and Caribbean allies invade Grenada (Oct. 25).
" Cabbage Patch Kids are the new toys of the year.
" Camcorders are introduced.
" Dr. Martin Luther King Day is created as a national holiday.
" Ocean Spray introduces the very first "juice box" to America.
" TCP/IP used; the modern Internet is born.
" The FCC allows Motorola to begin testing cellular phone service in Chicago.
" "Just Say No" is introduced as a motto to combat growing drug use in the US.
" Friendship pins, Jelly shoes, Ray-Ban Wayfarers and parachute pants are some of the many fashion statements of the year.
" Swatch introduces the new concept in watches, one that is fashionable and functional.
" Introduced the year before, compact discs first hit the market.
" Michael Jackson is awarded with seven Grammy awards for his 1982 Thriller album.
" Movies: Terms of Endearment, The Big Chill, The Dresser, The Right Stuff, Tender Mercies, Star Wars: Episode VI - Return of the Jedi, Trading Places, Risky Business

Twenty years ago my hometown of Rantoul, Ill had a population of 26,000+ and the senior class of Rantoul Twp. High School rolled large from the Pamida shopping center on the eastside to McDonald's on our town's westside. The 2.47-mile stretch along US-136 took about five minutes to complete, but what happened between those two points was the glue of shared experience that can make 20 years a blip in the space-time continuum.

Before I was indoctrinated into RTHS as a freshman during 1979-80, I ran around with a core group of 10 of which four of us remain in consistent contact, and in May of this year we began an e-mail discussion as to logistics for our July 25th resurfacing into Rantoul. Planning is essential because our homes are distant: I live in San Diego, Calif.; Mr. David Barclift, Columbus, Oh; Mr. Pietro Tondini, Miami Beach, Fla.; Mr. Joe Croskey, Oil City, Penn.

Our plan:

" Part one: meet in Chicago the evening of Thursday the 24th
" Part two: drive south on I-57 from Chicago to Rantoul the morning of Friday the 25th
" Part three: let the reindeer games begin
" Part four: go home and recover

Thursday evening:
My evening was nice, mainly due to my Chicago friends who met us at The Skylark, a neighborhood bar located on the Southside at Halsted and Cermak. There we consumed generous amounts of Rantoul's official brew from 20 years ago, Pabst Blue Ribbon. And we toasted with a few Jim Beams. The group's energy was high that night.

Mr. Tondini booked a downtown hotel room at The Inn of Chicago, where we retired for the evening.

Friday:
Friday morning was a bit difficult for Mr. Barclift and me because of our 4:30 A.M. lights-out the previous evening. Mr. Croskey was up-and-at-'em early for a lakefront jog. Mr. Tondini remained at the hotel and supervised the preparation of the two hung-over individuals.

At about 10:00 A.M. we hit the road to Rantoul in two separate rental cars-Barclift and I in a white Plymouth Neon and Tondini, Croskey and Ms. Angela Fitton (Jonas), who was also in Chicago the previous night, in a silver Buick LeSabre. Our traveling group was separated somewhere in downtown Chicago.

With the use of mobile text messaging, our quintet rendezvoused around mile-marker 306 in the town of Chebanse, where we proceeded south to Rantoul like a posse on a mission to golf.

Rantoul arrived soon thereafter at which time we re-assembled at the golf course, where a Class-of-1983 Tournament was scheduled. Mr. Barclift was entered and I elected not to play but to serve as his cart driver/caddy/spiritual and strategic advisor.

Optimism was high on the number one tee as Barclift smacked his ball straight and far. That was his best shot of the day.

Around the 14th hole my buddy's game was in a clear downward death spiral, which proved too much for me, and my rum-and-coke induced happiness, to bear. I imagined the pioneers of the game turning in their graves as my friend hacked military golf, hitting left-right-left-right-left-right in a futile attempt at a respectable performance. I abandoned the sinking ship and joined forces with the talented and lovely roving beer gal, Toni (hubba-hubba) of nearby St. Joseph, Ill and left Barclift to his own devices.

Later after the completion of the tournament, a cocktail party was hosted at Caddy Shack Bar & Grill by our fine reunion organizers: Steve Vogelsang, Tammy Vaughn, Carla Quinlan and Tammy Lane, who did a great job planning the whole weekend.

Due to a number of reasons, I don't recall very much about Friday evening. One memorable vision was of my buddy and his dance floor prowess and creativity. Most of us on the dance floor were exhibiting fairly traditional dance moves; ole' boy was lifting his partner into the air as if he were performing The Hulk On Ice at the Assembly Hall. It was rad. It was dangerous. He looked like Atlas.

Seeing and embracing old friends: Bobby Thomas, Billy Steward, Bobby Bronaugh, Ken Buenting was an experience of which I lack the words to describe. Situations such as these, where hundreds of people from your past are literally coming out of the woodwork to re-acquaint with you, can be daunting. I resigned myself to the fact that remembering names, a difficult task after 20 years, isn't the higher purpose to this exercise; but what's important-to hug them and look them straight in their eyes and say: "It's been a long time, I missed you, and I am so very happy to be here with you right here right now."

Saturday:
Mr. Tondini organized pick-up basketball games at the RTHS gym for this day. A turnout of about 15 showed and there seemed to be a common refrain that emanated from the floor: "I think I lost a couple steps."

Interesting for me was gazing at the golden championship banners hanging from the ceiling, the school records and photos of the RTHS Hall of Fame.

Talk about 20 years being relived within a moment in time. The cheers at a pep rally, basketball and wrestling matches. Slamming Paul Haines into the stage when we played floor hockey during gym class. Going for a rebound and getting undercut at the south basketball goal. I fell on my ass with a big, hard thump and then I got up in a world of pain and attempted to feign: "that didn't hurt." Visions such as those were flowing into my mind's eye at a lightning pace.

Angie's mom and dad, Jim and Sue Jacobs, hosted an afternoon pre-dinner party at their home in Indian Hills. The funny discussion there was Mr. Barclift's ability at dance floor improvisation. Dave Astaire felt his back was a little tender and he strongly believed that golf was the source of his aches.

I can only imagine the deja vu that Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs must have experienced as they peered into their backyard and saw some of the same kids who entertained over 20 years ago.

The Caddy Shack, located in the building that once housed the Air Force's N.C.O. Club, The Chandell, hosted the official dinner function for the reunion, and that's where we reconvened after leaving The Jacobs'. The first item of business was our class photo. After some serious cattle prodding, we eventually made it out to the grounds, where our professional photographer experienced some not-so-professional equipment setbacks. He regrouped, however, and the group photo was finally taken. The photo time gave us more opportunity to relax and smile.

Dinner, dancing and mingling were the orders of the evening. Steve Vogelsang was master of ceremonies and announced Who Changed The Most/Least; I'm Not Surprised That; and the I'm Surprised That nominations. I wish my memory were better here because the survey results have escaped me.

The dinner festivities ended at about 1:00 A.M. and an after-party was planned at Angie's house, which was attended by neither Angie nor Barclift, who collected money for a beer run but didn't deliver the goods. None of the attendees, however, seemed too upset as they were involved in other activities that made the need for more alcohol seem secondary.

Saturday was the last day of our 20-year reunion. The time flew by, just like the 20 years that we had been estranged from one another.

My weekend activities were an explosive bang, which were fueled by copious amounts of rum.

The warmth and comfort that many of us experienced by our reunion is one I hope will stay with us until the next get-together planned for 2008, our 25-year reunion.

I could not have imagined that the experience would have been as fulfilling as it was. Not ever experiencing a reunion before, I had no idea what to expect, but I knew that it was to be a life experience I wouldn't want to miss. And indeed it was an experience that will be etched into the part of the brain that stores all the warm and wonderful experiences we've had in our lives.

Rantoul may have changed a great deal since 1983, but the bonds of our shared experiences will forever keep those special Rantoul memories firmly planted on that warm boulevard from Pamida to McDonald's.