Class Reunion

Or, How Did We Get So Damned Old?

So, I went to my high school reunion a couple of weeks ago.

I never saw so many damned old people. Bald heads and bellies and wrinkles and old hair styles as far as the eye could see. I fit right in.

One thing I noticed right away was the hotties back in high school are hot grammas, now. I see the gray hair. I see the wrinkles. But when I look at these ladies, I still them as seventeen years old!

It was great to reconnect with old friends. Some of them I keep up with almost daily, via Facebook. But some I hadn’t seen for years and years. We picked up like we’d never been apart. I love that. I love them.

Someone once told me that you don’t go to reunions for yourself. You go for the others. Someone there will be glad to see you; they’ll come up and tell you something about a time you shared, something you said that meant a lot to them through the years, they’ll want to apologize for something they said or did. I’m always glad I went, when I get home.

One thing that struck me was the list of classmates who were gone. I came from a big school, and a big class. And already, more than twenty of us are dead. Some of them are real shockers, at least two were record-setting athletes that, again, in my mind are still fit and in their late teens. I would have bet any amount of money that I would have been gone before them. But we never know.

Never forget that next time you see someone may very well be the last time you see them. Plan accordingly.

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