Having been to my Essex Junction High School 10th year reunion and none since, I thought it might be interesting to attend my 50th. Living in Hawaii with the reunion in Vermont, this was not a decision to be made lightly.
Put aside the cost of airfare, rental car, and lodging. Pretend that 12 hours in coach class, sitting in the middle seat, between a screaming child and a contender for “the world’s biggest loser,” pre-loss, will make for fascinating conversation and time flying. Ignore for the moment the that all my classmates had inevitably gotten old and unrecognizable, and ignore that also had I. And imagine that my first wife, my first ex-wife to be exact, who was also a classmate and would undoubtedly be at the reunion, would be absolutely delighted to see me and pine for the days lost and opportunities missed, due to her decision to move on to different pastures.
None of this changed the fact that The Class of 1964 was an auspicious group of misfits, the like of which had never been seen before and has not been seen since. We were a motley crew of underachievers, short on scholarship, but long on recreation. We didn't excel at organized sports, we didn't win scholastic prizes, we weren't voted the most likely to anything.
Our class slogan, until it was disallowed by the powers that be, was "Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, creeps in this petty pace from day to day, to the last syllable of recorded time." It was not our way to soar, not for us to savor the competition or bask in the limelight. We were the creepers.
Did I really want to spend the time, much less the money to reunite and reminisce with this group of losers (not the good kind)? What was to be gained from such an undertaking except for a vivid reminder of my own shortcomings. Did I really need the disappointment and grief?
Perhaps I did. After all, with all their failures and shortcomings, my classmates did have one redeeming quality… a great sense of humor.
