They came up the hard way

As Elmer Lehotsky was making the rounds wrapping up another Jackson-Milton High School reunion, he came upon classmate Vera Davidson.

Their goodbye wasn’t a hug, but a playful punch by Elmer square to Vera’s chin.

It was a rather feistyish send-off, but if you knew the Class of ’46 group, you’d understand.

It’s through their feistiness that I know them.

Two years ago, they had a gathering to celebrate their new high school, and they invited The Vindicator. We instead went to do a story on a city school reunion.

In the mail a few days later came a feisty letter.

The event we covered drew 100 people. The Jackson-Milton event drew 600.

“Why couldn’t our event have at least a 2-inch by 2-inch block,” started their letter.

They even drew on the letter a 2-inch-by-2-inch box. Inside the box, they wrote “Was this too much to ask for?”

“The Vindicator owes the above community an apology!!!!!!!!!!!”

Yes — 11 exclamation points. Signed Elmer, Vera and a third classmate, Agnes Romyak.

I called them to take my lumps, and they eventually eased up over the phone. (Eventually. After a few more shots.)

Feisty, yes. But I guess they’ve earned it. The Class of ’46 was born in 1928 and ’29.

The Great Depression, World War II, Korean and Vietnam wars, 1960s civil unrest, Kennedy, moon landing, Nixon, two Gulf wars, 9/11 ... .

If you want to discuss the Billy Joel “We Didn’t Start the Fire” song, find the Class of ’46.

World events aside, think of their homes. Agnes remembers coming home from first grade and hitting a switch that turned on a light bulb. They turned it off right away for fear of breaking it.

Automobiles, indoor plumbing, phones, radio, appliances, television, cable, etc.

I suppose they can be as feisty as they want.

After several missed attempts, I finally got to meet the remarkable class at Dino’s Italian Restaurant in North Jackson. It was their winter gathering. An August one happens as well.

All of the above defines their generation. But there’s something extra that defines the Jackson-Milton Class of ’46 and unites what’s left of the 32 classmates 65 years after they graduated.

“We all learned the hard way,” said Vera. “We were farmers. We didn’t have money like you city slickers. We learned different things out of life, and I think we’re stronger because of it.”

She rattles off examples of farm-kid living and the bonds that were built — occasionally she drops in a four-letter word. I thought of telling the great- grandma that this is a family paper, but I feared where she’d tell me to shove the family paper. So I listened and relished.

It’s funny how they still tie themselves to their youngest tags — the cheerleader, the shortstop, the hoops player, etc.

They’ve lived a lifetime, and they still tie it back to dusty roads in western Mahoning County.

It wasn’t always rosy for them as classmates.

Jackson and Milton were separate districts until they merged in 1941 when the ’46ers were in eighth grade.

“We were nasty to them,” admitted Vera — whose entire life has been spent in the same rural Jackson house she still calls home with her grandson.

But by high school graduation, they were one, and off they went in life.

Forty years later, in 1983, they began to assemble as they do now. And 28 years of reunions later, they’re proud, even though they’re smaller. At the center of it all is Elmer, now of Arizona, but at Dino’s, he’s a ringmaster right off a Frank Capra set.

“He’s the one who keeps us all together,” said Agnes, watching over the 40 luncheon people, who included graduates from 1945, 1947 and 1948.

Elmer offers guests a rundown of classmates not present — many deceased; he offers some well-worn quotes of inspiration from icons of that generation, and mainly, he’s just Elmer — the kid who got a job cleaning the school with the janitor in grade seven, then ran the high school bookstore, organized the class softball and basketball teams, then ran one of the busiest Standard service stations at Market Street and U.S. 224. If you Google his name, he was pretty legendary with Little League Baseball of America in Williamsport, Pa.

Learning his feats and his amazing matter-of-fact recitation of them, I walked away feeling I had just met Forrest Gump.

Elmer’s dad would joke in high school that them Germans better get out of that war, because Elmer’s coming. He likely would have negotiated the surrender — and been in a photo handing the papers to Churchill or FDR.

At 82ish, they’re strong, they’re accomplished, and they’ll be back together in August, and I aim to be there — if for no other reason than to hear their tales. We only did the Internet and the iPhone.

“I respect your generations. I’m not jealous of you all. You’ve worked and earned it. We did not have the colleges, the education. You’re taking and making the most of the opportunity that you were given — that’s awesome.

“It wasn’t an easy life back then. But is it easier now? I don’t know,” pondered Vera.

“I’m know I’m not going to complain ... .”

Even if a swear word slips out every now and then ... .

Todd Franko is editor of The Vindicator. He likes emails about stories and our newspaper. Email him at tfranko@vindy.com. He blogs, too, on vindy.com.