"I waited until I was practically dead before I came," said Webb, 93, the oldest Durham High graduate and the only member of the class of 1931 in attendance.

Now, Webb said she is having too much fun to miss another. "My doctor says he'll help keep me alive until I'm 100," Webb said.

Webb was among 268 people at this weekend's luncheon that brought together those who graduated from Durham High School between 1931 and 1947. This is the third consecutive year that the school's alumni organized a celebration for multiple classes of graduates, said Bobby Lougee, an organizer and 1941 graduate.

Lougee said he agreed to coordinate his class' 65th reunion if other classes were invited, it was a one-day afternoon event and the cost was reasonable enough so those on a fixed income could attend. Saturday's lunch cost $15.

"We don't want anybody to stay home who wants to come," Lougee said.

The name tags at the registration table in the lobby of Durham's Croasdaile Country Club revealed an older generation: Bessie, Grace and Edith; Harold, Wallace and Clarence. A nearby table was covered with yellowed newspaper clippings. Wedding announcements read "Mary Ann Jones united in marriage to Edward John Elbare in Ceremony here." Death announcements included these two companion clippings: "Coy N. Riley is missing in South Pacific," and "Coy Riley of City declared dead."

There was also a stack of letters from classmates who couldn't come this year. Edna McLean Roan wrote, "I wish my get up and go power was what it was 30 years ago, or I would be there."

Those who were present remember Durham as a small town permeated by the smell of tobacco, where you knew everyone you saw on the streets.

And they recall that their high school -- the school for Durham's white youths during that segregated era -- was ranked not only among the best in the state but among the nation's top schools for academics. Harriet O'Neal, a 1943 graduate, said she didn't struggle with her studies at East Carolina Teachers College because her high school classes were so rigorous.

Beyond remembering old times, most people were there Saturday to see old friends.

"I get to see people I haven't seen in a year," said Homer Riley, 85, a 1940 graduate. "I get to renew old friendships, tell a few stories."

He then paused and quipped, "I can't believe everybody is getting so old."