I used to think St. Louisans’ fixation on where they went to high school was specific to St. Louis. As someone who didn’t grow up here, I just figured the proverbial, “Where’d you go to high school?” question was as provincial as kids telling jokes on Halloween. In other words, it was something unique to St. Louis.

But as the date approaches for my 50^th high school reunion on Oct. 19, I’ve started to think a lot about those days and the lasting impact high school has had on me over the past five decades. Just maybe, I’m beginning to realize, the “Where’d you go to high school?” question absolutely matters because it can say much about us without us saying a word.

I graduated from Westbury High School in Westbury, N.Y. in 1974.  Westbury is located on Long Island, in Nassau County, which is immediately east of New York City. Within Nassau County there are two cities, three towns, 64 incorporated villages and 63 unincorporated hamlets. Westbury is one of the incorporated villages in the town of North Hempstead.

So why the geography lesson?

Because Westbury, at least growing up there in the 1960s and early ’70s, was strikingly different from most (pretty much all) of the other villages in Nassau County given its racial and ethnic makeup. As hard as I tried to find precise demographic information from that time, I came up short, other than landing on numerous references to the white flight that took place as African Americans began moving into certain parts of Westbury and white families began moving out.

I lived in one of those white flight subdivisions. In 1953, when my parents bought our modest, split-level house that looked pretty much like all the others on Frances Drive, our neighborhood was mostly Jewish and Italian. A decade or so later, we were one of a handful of white families still living on the block; the majority were Black.

In those days, I suppose Westbury High wasn’t all that different than University City High. The majority of students in my graduating class were white but counting the portraits of fellow seniors in our 1974 yearbook, “Wing and Spur,” 134 were Black, 160 white, and a few others Asian or Hispanic.

Back then we didn’t really talk about diversity, we just lived it through circumstances. Yes, most of the Black kids sat together in various groups at lunch in the cafeteria, as did the white kids. But we had classes together and after-school activities. We rode the bus to school together and played on sports teams. Many of us became friends with one another — some even dated — though it wasn’t always easy.

Navigating race relations as a teenager during that time had more than its fair share of challenges. I remember one Black friend in junior high taking me aside to say she couldn’t associate with me in public — meaning at school — because her Black friends were giving her a hard time about hanging with white girls. She didn’t want them to call her “Oreo.”

Most of the time, we all got along well: Black, white, brown, Jewish, Christian, Italian, Irish — Westbury was like a colorful tapestry woven from multicultural thread.

Still, at times during high school the hallways seemed thick with tension. Students were protesting the Vietnam War, Blacks were pushing back against decades of discrimination and women were demanding equal rights and legalized abortion.

Fights sometimes erupted along racial lines. The Black Power movement had gained traction, emphasizing pride in Black identity and culture, encouraging students to embrace their heritage. An outgrowth was the formation of Black Student Unions, and at Westbury High, ours seemed robust. I didn’t really understand the need for one at the time, but now I can see how the BSU provided a platform for Black students to organize, support one another and address specific issues they faced, including more Black representation among administrators, faculty and staff, and changes in curriculum that included more Black history and perspectives.

At age 17½, when I left Westbury to attend college at Washington University, it was as if I had stepped into an alternative universe. I came to the university — and St. Louis — sight unseen; the farthest west I had been was Lancaster, Pa. All I saw at WashU — in my dorm, in my classes, on campus — was a sea of white faces. What minority students matriculated seemed to be Asian; Black and brown representation was scarce. The transition from multiracial to more homogeneous felt strange.

Fast forward to present day, where for the past year I’ve been part of the Westbury High School 50^th Reunion planning committee. We Zoom most Wednesday nights, me in St. Louis; David in California; Eddie and Craig in different parts of Jersey; Liz in Minnesota; Yvonne in Florida; Donna in Chicago; Claudette in Westbury; and Gary from far-flung locales throughout the world. This committee is like a microcosm of our high school graduating class: half white, half Black and gender-wise, split pretty even.

What fun it has been to reconnect with my fellow Dragons. While my time at WashU was nothing short of fantastic, I have come to realize over the years how thankful I am for my Westbury High experience. Growing up in a multiracial, multicultural environment profoundly shaped who I am today, both personally and professionally. Being surrounded by classmates from diverse backgrounds at a young age taught me the importance of listening and understanding different perspectives. I learned to appreciate the richness that comes from cultural differences, which has been invaluable in my career as a journalist.

One of the things our planning committee sought to do was make the price of the reunion affordable so as many of our classmates as possible could attend. We started a GoFundMe account to underwrite the cost of the Saturday night ticket and were able to reduce the price by 52%.

We also worked like Sherlock Holmes trying to track down classmates who aren’t on social media or LinkedIn through every channel possible. While it’s still a couple of weeks away, it looks as if at least 60 out of our class of 330 will be attending (sadly, 40-plus have passed away and will be honored at a tree planting ceremony at the high school).

Some can’t make the 50^th because of health reasons, or scheduling glitches, or the time and money involved in traveling from faraway destinations. Others have no desire to reconnect with high school classmates for whatever the reason.

Me, I can’t wait. I feel so much pride being a Westbury Dragon and graduating at the time I did.

And as for the question, “Where’d you go to high school?” heck yes, it absolutely matters. Because the way I see it, where I went to high school is part of my DNA and speaks volumes about me.