What Ever Happened to …?
Whatever happened to the classmates in your old school yearbooks?
What happened to their dreams? And what happened to yours? Are all the memories tucked away in a box somewhere, or proudly displayed on your bookshelf? Have you looked at them lately and reminisced? Or were those years best left to be forgotten?
In my continued slog through what remains from my mother’s storage unit, I came across a boxful of her college yearbooks, plus one from her high school, and one from my father’s high school, too. Together, they weighed fifteen pounds, and were large enough to overwhelm my already over-burdened bookshelves. So I wondered…
… What to do with these old books book now?
I pored over the pages of Mom’s books, looking for her familiar young face and checking out her class activities. Most of them were familiar to me: French club, a campus play or two, a modeling job, a social club, etc.
My Dad had saved only one annual from his small town high school. Seeing his teenage smile was a moment to savor.
But, hidden among the pages was something truly wonderful, something I had overlooked when I was hurriedly packing them up.
The dreams of a young man from a small town
I finally decided to call our city library to ask if they had any interest in old school yearbooks. Yes, they replied, but only if they didn’t already have them in their collection. So I took them there, and just as I was about to hand them over, I had a last minute urge to check them again.
And that’s when I found the clipping from an old newspaper.
You see, my father once told me that his first ambition in life was to become a pro baseball player.
He was a Dad who shared his love of the sport with this lucky little girl. He taught me the rules of the game, and how to throw and catch and bat. Took me to local community games, where he coached a local team. And he was among the first to buy season tickets when our town got a pro baseball franchise.
After he died, I remembered seeing an old newspaper clipping with the headline “Ace Yellen Does it Again.” I don’t know what happened to that article. I hope it shows up someday. But for now, I’m planning to frame the one I rescued from his yearbook that day as I was about to leave the books there.
In case you can’t read the fine print, the article reports that in this game, he’d pitched an 8-0 shutout and hit a home run. And a double, too. No wonder he loved baseball. Apparently, he was pretty darn good at it.
It’s funny what happens when you start to see your parents as young people, after they’re gone. As a writer, I’m suddenly getting an urge to merge parts of their stories into something I’d like to write. Who knows? Perhaps Ace Yellen will spring to life in one of them and hit a walk-off homer.
Have you looked through your old yearbooks lately?
Gay Yellen’s award-winning writing career began in magazine journalism. She later served as the contributing editor for the international thriller, Five Minutes to Midnight (Delacorte), which debuted as a New York Times “Notable.”
Her multi-award-winning Samantha Newman Mystery Series is packed with suspense and laced with touches of romance, heart, and humor. Available on Amazon or through your favorite bookseller.




ink pen. Over the years, several pages became unglued. But they were all accounted for, and chock-full of the kind of mind games that define unhealthy interpersonal transactions (or, in non-psychobabble: toxic relationships).
Speaking of more pleasant games, my favorite is the one I play with my husband almost every day at lunch, when I take a break from writing. As I wind down the morning, he’s making a delicious chopped salad which we share over a backgammon table. We’re pretty evenly matched at this game, and the competition’s friendly. Afterward, I’m refreshed for the rest of the afternoon.
Any kind of healthy game can serve as an antidote to any toxic thought gremlins that invade our tranquility. Lots of people I know play Wordle or some variation of it to relieve stress. Group games like Bridge, Poker, and Mahjong are popular again, too.
So deep am I into the research for my next book that I lost track of time. Which is to say, I almost forgot to write this post.



