The Date Has Been Set

For my high school graduating class's 25th reunion. I first thought that some nostalgic fool was doing some far advance planning. Then I noticed that the November 28th event happens this year!

All those people have gotten fat or bald or both and they're trying to drag me into middle age with them. Never mind that if I live another three weeks I'll be 43 years old.

The organizer of the event sent an Excel document listing the members of the Methacton Class of 1984. The Excel document was weird enough. Excel documents did not exist when we graduated. Was there even a Microsoft?

Then I noticed that there were only 347 names, which, thanks to Excel, I didn't have to count. There were 355 when we graduated. Have eight of us died already?

I scanned the names of the apparent survivors, 95% of whom I have had no contact since the day we did not throw our graduation caps into the air because the principal threatened to withhold our diplomas if we did.

I was geniunely happy to see that the girl who was easily the ugliest girl in our class and probably the entire school had a married name. Maybe there really is someone for everyone.

I don't know if the man she married was the one who knocked her up in high school, which was my first witness to the fact that even the homliest girl willing to have sex will find someone willing to accomodate her.

It was good to see an e-mail address for a friend with whom I'd like to reconnect and bittersweet to notice the e-mail for another I did meet again after more than two decades but have since fallen out of contact again.

Many of the names I can no longer associate a face. I honestly couldn't tell you if Carmen G. is a man or a woman without consulting my 1984 Methactonian. And I'm not entirely confident that Methactonian was actually the name of our yearbook.