This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2016, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.

There's something about your high school years that sinks deep and never leaves you, no matter how old you get.

You spent three or four years jammed in a building, shuffling from classroom to classroom with the same people, all of whom are trying, like you, to find their identity.

You develop social relationships that seem more important than anything else. You suffer torn friendships and broken hearts and form new relationships. You graduate and life starts over. But those old memories and kinships stay within you.

It is a time of insecurity, hopes and uncertainty. It is wrought with raging hormones, pimples and teenage angst.

But as you wander through life, you grow, you mellow and you wear the knowledge that life experiences give you. You look at your former classmates with more forgiveness, more understanding.

So it was with my Skyline High 50-year reunion as 200 to 300 fellow senior citizens relived their high school years and rekindled old friendships.

Leading up to the big event, the reunion committee established a website, Skyline1966.com, where classmates registered, shared their profiles and memories and detailed their lives after graduation. Some profiles were heart wrenching, weighted with heavy challenges brought on by circumstances beyond anyone's control.

One such story is worthy of retelling — for its tragedy, its heroism, its redemption. It recalls the anguish and pain brought to our generation by a cataclysmic event: the Vietnam War.

The classmate, whom I won't name, wrote about his experience in Vietnam shortly after we graduated.

Looking back at Skyline's 1966 yearbook, he was one of the best looking kids in our class. He joined the Marines with two buddies. One was killed soon after arriving in the war zone.

After exposure to Agent Orange, this classmate came home with a face scarred from what is commonly known as jungle rot.

That kept him from going on a date. He became hermitlike, toiling at night in low-paying jobs so he could avoid other people.

After a few years, he went on a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. When he returned, he met a woman and married.

After several happy years and two children, she died of breast cancer and he resumed his reclusive life.

His profile said he hasn't dated for two decades. He has retired from his night-security job. His two boys are doing fine, and he has three grandchildren. He is working on self-improvement and he apologized on the webpage to any classmates he might have offended through the years.

After his profile went up, a classmate contacted him before the reunion, which had events Aug. 18 and 20, a Thursday and Saturday.

They went on a date together that Friday night.