High School Reunion

I just had that right of passage that shocks one into the realization that if you are not at middle age already, it is knocking on the front door and looking in the windows. That of course would be the 25th high school reunion, and not only did I attend, but I was also hornswoggled into helping to plan the event. Being part of the planning committee had more to do with the proximity of my house being less than a half mile from the hostess of the committee than any special talent, but it turned out to be a great time.

The most enjoyable aspect of the committee was our ability to laugh at ourselves and the times we had in high school. Whatever hierarchy and cliques that were in place in high school had long ago fallen by the wayside and we simply enjoyed each other’s company and catching up on 25 years of living. It was also a big plus (I think) not to get carded when we bought wine and beer. Even more of a relief was buying a nice Merlot or some Four Peaks Kilt Lifter instead of Boones Farm and Mickey’s Big Mouth, although truth be told we had both Boones and Mickey’s prominently displayed at the actual event. Unfortunately it appears that Tropical Blue Mango wine does not benefit from decanting, apparently it is at its best when chugged.

The reunion evening itself was a fun casual time although I have to admit that the women have aged a whole lot better than the men. Whereas many of the men have the creeping hairline thing going (my forehead has become a fivehead), the women seemed to have stumbled upon some mysterious fountain of youth that has kept their hair virtually the same color it was those many years ago. The XX chromosome must have lost the gray hair DNA and transferred it all to the XYs in the group.

Musically my hair has also turned gray. I have always enjoyed a wide variety of music but this recent journey in the WayBack machine seems to have stirred up some long dormant tastes. While shopping for Christmas gifts, some old CDs from AC/DC and Bruce Springsteen found their way into my cart. Much to the dismay of my business partner, I now enjoy walking into my office first thing in the morning and throwing open the door and screaming “Back in black, I hit the sack, I've been too long, I'm glad to be back….”

Screaming metal heads aside, it was good to see the success enjoyed by so many of the people in attendance. It appeared that we did not have one single classmate who had been incarcerated, at least for any extended period (unlike my grade school classmates who I believe comprise most of cell block 9 in Florence), so as that measure goes the class of ’82 was a great success. But by a more acceptable measure of friendship and laughter, our class was a smashing success.

Steve Macias