As the Mount Olive High School Class of 1975 gathered to begin planning their 50th reunion, it didn’t take long for the conversation to shift from party logistics to something more lasting. It was John Albers who first voiced it—something simple but strong, like the roots they all still feel tied to: Let’s plant a tree.

Not just any tree—a scarlet oak, chosen for its hardiness and color, sourced from the century-old Walbart Nursery south of Bunker Hill. It was planted near the school on May 1st, dedicated to the graduating Class of 2025 as a living link between two generations separated by five decades, but united in hometown pride.

“Everything’s changed,” John said. “Main Street doesn’t look like it did. A lot of what we knew is gone. But maybe this tree will still be standing when the Class of 2025 comes back for their 50th reunion.”

There’s something strikingly Mount Olive about the gesture—quiet, meaningful, generous without needing attention. For Mary Stewart, who still lives in the community, the symbolism resonates. “It represents strength,” she said. “Sturdiness. The kind of foundation we were given here.”

They laughed as they shared stories from high school—days spent in the breezeway outside the gym, teasing underclassmen, trading barbs and candy from the vending machines. “It was like a gauntlet,” Gene Birdsell recalled with a grin. “If you walked through there, you had to brace yourself. But it wasn’t mean. Just fun.”

“We didn’t have bullies in our class,” John added. “We really didn’t. We just got along.”

That unity carried into adulthood. Many of the classmates still live nearby—Gene, in fact, lives just 15 steps from the school, keeping an eye on the newly planted oak like a watchful guardian.

“We’ll know if something’s wrong with that tree,” John joked. “We’ve got eyes on it.”

The group acknowledged how much the world has changed—especially for today’s students. The rise of technology, social media, and screen time have altered the landscape of childhood and communication. “Kids don’t look each other in the eye anymore,” Linda Petroline said. “They’re always looking down.”

But they also spoke with admiration and empathy for the Class of 2025, a generation facing challenges their own couldn’t have imagined. “I hope they look back one day and know they had a good foundation,” Linda said. “Just like we did.”

Their advice to this year’s seniors? Something tangible and real: write down each other’s numbers and addresses before graduation. Stay in touch. Because as John put it, “You’re never going to meet people who have more in common with you than the ones you’re graduating with.”

Before they wrapped up their conversation and walked out to take a photo by the tree, there was a quiet pause—one that spoke to everything they didn’t say aloud. About how fast 50 years passes. About how friendships can span time like roots reach through soil. About the pride that lingers long after the last bell rings.

They planted a tree.

And with it, they left behind a little shade, a little strength, and a whole lot of Motown pride.