Yesterday we went to Dennis’ 50th high school reunion in Bunker, MO, 120 miles and 50 years away from here, as Dennis says. We did not stay long at the day-long event. His old classmates are nice folks but we did not have much to talk about. They are from a different era than the one we find ourselves living in. Many if not most of them had worked at the same job as a teacher or miner for 40 or 50 years and are now retired. The conversation was about old times and grandchildren. So we paid our respects, Dennis exchanged a few stories with old classmates, and we bade our leave before official ceremonies began.

Belleview Valley on the way to Bunker.

Mural in a room at the high school where they keep memorabilia. There were lots of old photos of the town’s founders who came to Bunker by way of the lumber boom. A family of women, several generations, and one or two of their husbands, has taken it upon themselves to maintain the old Bunker Union Church and Timber Museum. They were there when we went in, a mother, her daughter, and her niece.

The charcoal mill in Reynolds. Smelled awful.

The house where Dennis lived as a boy with his and grandfather and mother after their first house burned down one winter’s day.

Leaving Reynolds.