High-school Reunion

Last night my husband and I went to our Fairview High School class of 1951 reunion. Do the math--that's fifty-five years. I can't believe it myself. There were a few more than forty graduates present, plus twenty or so spouses. Bob and I were "high-school sweethearts," so we fit into both categories. Our class numbered around three-hundred-plus students. Of those, sixty-six have passed away. Those who attended looked pretty good for a bunch of old people, none of whom seemed to notice that they're old. We had a good time, better actually than the fiftieth, which had a much bigger group of people crowded into a smaller space. Without the noise of a band, we were able to talk to each other and share memories. I reminded one of the class cut-ups about how he used to coo like a pigeon in study hall when we had a substitute teacher, who would embark on a search of the double-size classroom to find the bird. The floor in the room had an imperceptible slant to it, so he would start a marble rolling at one end of the room and you could hear its slow progress to the other end. He told me about the mouse he set loose in history class that made the teacher jump onto her desk--I had nearly forgotten that one. He got a two-day suspension. Nowadays he would probably be called into juvenile court, sued for teacher harassment, and enrolled in group therapy. In spite of all, he turned out to be a really nice guy.