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Another class reunionPosted Tuesday, July 19, 2011, at 1:20 PM
I've got to start getting myself in shape.
Before September 10.
That's when my high school class reunion will be held.
To reduce down to the weight I was as a high school senior, I'll have to lose 12 pounds. I'll have to work fast to accomplish that.
On second thought, I'll try to lose two or three; just enough to comfortably wear my jeans. That's more attainable.
It's too late to erase wrinkles or crow's feet. I'll just concentrate on a friendly smile.
I don't plan on buying anything new to wear to the reunion dinner because an old outfit will be new to my classmates.
Thank goodness, I have only a one hour drive to the meeting place. The restaurant where we will be dining was nonexistent when we graduated from high school. Even the high school we attended no longer exists. On April 2, 2006, it was heavily damaged by a tornado which caused widespread damage throughout the town. It was later determined that the school building was structurally unsound. The old alma mater would be demolished and a new high school would be constructed on the site. It was sad to drive by the old school and see heavy equipment taking it down.
Our class will be touring the new state of the art high school which has just been completed. It is scheduled to welcome its first students this school year. I recently drove past the new school and I can attest that it is a beautiful modern building.
Some of my classmates will be traveling hundreds of miles to get to the reunion, one all the way from Washington State.
Some of the widows have already indicated they won't be attending because they don't want to drive long distances alone.
It's for sure, time makes a difference.
Strange isn't it how our classmates remain forever young in our memory.
At our 50th reunion I didn't recognize some of my classmates.
Fortunately we wore name tags.
Someone said I hadn't changed a bit, but I didn't buy that.
We had all changed. Some of the men were paunchy. Some of the women either had middle age spread or were Olive Oil thin.
I know already what to expect. Dark hair will be turned to gray. Diabetic shoes will replace saddle oxfords. Men will sport baldness or receding hairlines. Both sexes will be wearing hearing aids, eye glasses, dyed hair.
Classmates will be discussing politics, by passes, blood pressure, IRAs, port-a-caths, pacemakers, and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. And remembering classmates who have passed on.
Altogether there were 36 females and 26 males in my senior class composite photo.
Earl, an organizer of our class reunions, phoned me the other day. He lives in New Mexico and I haven't seen him in years. He was one of the smart ones in our senior class. He and his friend Clyde knew all the answers.
Over the phone we reminisced as we talked about various class members. He had tallied that 35 of our 62 graduating classmates have died, perhaps more than that. While he was compiling a list of the deceased, I was compiling a list of survivors.
Willard was a plant manager. He was also the class clown. He now lives in Bernie, Mo.
Betty Sue became a realtor in Ohio and Marilyn was a teacher and a home interior decorator in Washington State.
Wendell became a lawyer and is an accomplished musician. He is credited with writing our class song. Also, he is the father of Sheryl Crow, singer-songwriter.
One class member was in the NASA program but he has since died. And so has his twin brother.
There were factory workers, craftsmen, stenographers and teachers.
Some became nurses, realtors, and housewives.
Fay, our class giggler, died long ago from cancer. She was one of the first classmates to die young. Clyde, one of the handsomest boys in the class, also died too young. And there was Wilford, our football hero. Pete was an American Airlines pilot.
Others succumbed to heart disease or cancer. Emma died of cancer a couple of years ago. There was June who ended her life after she was diagnosed with a brain tumor.
So that leaves 35 of us who are survivors, still hanging on, enjoying the good life.
Can't wait to break bread with my friends.
I hope they recognize me.
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