Survival of the fattest…. 40 years.
Never in a million years did I think I would ever be old enough to attend a 40th high school reunion. Officially, I’m old.
You always don’t know what to expect seeing old classmates. For our 40th – the word “old” does have new meaning. You know you are old when the music sounds very familiar but is just too loud. You cannot hear anyone talking 2 feet from your face. So you just nod and smile and hope your reactions are correct. The lights are so low at these things that you have a hard time even seeing peoples faces (maybe intentional). And the name tags with “Senior” photos must have been done in number 7 font.
In my opinion this one was a lot better than the 30 year reunion. People were outgoing and friendly. People who wouldn’t or didn’t speak to you in high school are now your BFF’s. Maybe this is a realization that we might not be able to see or hear (or even walk) at our next reunion!
Many of my cohorts were barely recognizable. Perhaps it would have been good to take a few long haired wigs in several different colors. Then when you had that puzzled look you could throw one of those rugs to figure out who they were? It really makes you (me) appreciate the gray and the white hair you (we) have!
And wrinkles. Wow there were a lot of wrinkles. I would have had as many as most, but my wrinkles have been filled in for a number of year with no sign of retreating any time soon. But thanks to low lights that was not an issue.
And you should have seen the belt buckles. Or should I say we wish we could have seen the belt buckles on most of the guys, including my own. Some days I can’t even look down and tell what color my shoes are. But I am not alone.
OK, now for the ladies. They scored better than the gentlemen this time. Some of them were A-OK. I respectfully (for my wife) declined to use modern terminology for nice looking. But also remember, the lights were very low. Some (even guys) were dressed to kill and others of them you wanted to send then to detention for the way they dressed.
All seriousness aside, it was a fun and interesting time to re-unite with people that are just as old as me. And I’m glad to report that I’ve found that most of us have mellowed and gotten much better. Many Facebook profiles I’ve read encourage me by the books my classmates now read, the people they quote and the God that they embrace and worship now. In conclusion, the bedroom community of Pleasant Grove instilled many good values into the lives of thousands of grove rats like me. This was a good place to live and a wonderful place to grow up and go to High School. I sure hope that good memories like this will inspire generations to come. We had fun growing up here.
Go Spartans!
Real. Native. Texan. 