There
is no confirmed report that a female has ever had anything fit
to wear to her class reunion hanging in her closet when the invitation
arrived. Shopping, then, is mandatory as soon as she drops the
“yes, I plan to attend” postcard into the mailbox.
Reunion botox and hair color are also coming on strong as must-dos,
along with Weight Watchers and gym memberships.
Even men aren’t immune to this hysteria. They practice quick,
shallow breathing that allows them to keep their stomachs sucked
in at all times, and they stand in front of the mirror practicing
creative comb-overs. Sometimes, faltering at both efforts, they’re
forced (as it were) to buy a new self-enhancing car.
And yet for all our efforts, the class reunion is a great life-leveler.
Well, maybe not at the 10-year mark — I’ll admit that
one’s cutthroat. But after the first decade, it’s
a mutual celebration of survival rather than achievement. The
very important person is just one of the gang again. The man whose
life has been filled with disappointments is still quick-witted
and a delightful table companion. The shy are emboldened to speak
to the popular, who in turn, are impressed with what everyone
is doing now. Nobody has escaped pain in some form or another.
Compassion, rather than competition, is the order of the day.
And class reunions can be funny. One of my favorite stories came
from my friend, Richard, after he attended a big number year (no
need to be more specific) get-together for his high school graduating
class. As soon as he arrived at the party, a beautiful woman came
running up to him, threw her arms around him, and hugged him tightly.
While he was still reeling from her enthusiasm, she confessed,
“I know I still love you — but who are you?”
His old girlfriend, he later learned, had suffered a minor stroke
that slightly impaired her. Thankfully, even a neurological episode
has a hard time stamping out the memory of young love.
Another friend (I’ll call her Innocent) has given me permission
to share this story as long as all names are changed to protect
the guilty (whom I will call Confused.) During her freshman year
of college, Innocent had one, single date with Confused. There
was no spark between Innocent and Confused, and after a pleasant
evening at the movies and a handshake at the front door of the
dorm, they returned to their “just friends” status.
At their 25th class reunion, however, Confused reminded Innocent
of that date and alluded to the sizzling chemistry that had existed
between them. She said his memory was greatly at variance with
hers, but he was not dissuaded. She let it drop for the sake of
the evening’s civility.
But at the 30th reunion, Confused brought up their hot date again,
and expanded it into multiple dates. Innocent was flabbergasted.
The more she protested, however, the more adamant he became that
they had once been an item. When she insisted her memory failed
her, and pressed him for details, he mentioned specific events
such as fraternity formal dances they’d attended together
and when.
At the 35th gathering, Innocent was ready for him. “Listen
here,” she said. “Even allowing for transient amnesia
on my part, the time frame you give for our so-called romance
was the same year I was pinned to the president of your fraternity.
Do you honestly think that you would have been squiring me to
fraternity functions right under his nose?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Confused simply said, “No,
you’re right, it wasn’t you.” Then he wistfully
added, “But it could have been.”
“It could have been” is a pretty good theme for any
class reunion, I suppose. But I think I’ll vote for “I
know I still love you.” Whoever you are.
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