Gross Pointe Blank

July 25, 2009 at 3:40 AM | Posted in Journal | 1 Comment
  Out of nowhere, I got a call from my nephew, who lives in the town I used to live in.  Someone from my past stopped by his house, trying to contact me.  Why?  It’s high school reunion time. 
  Wow, so it’s that time again.  Hmmm.  After all these years.  How many years?  Well, when did I graduate?  1983.  That means that this year is the magic 26th year reunion.  Twenty-six, you say.  Why not twenty-five, you say.  Well, there was no 25, because the pathetic losers on the planning committee couldn’t get their shit together in time to have one.
  I sure would like to know who those assholes were.  Who the *OTHER* assholes were, I mean.  I know who one of them was.  Me.  Oh, Lord.  I mean, how did I go from being on the planning committee to being lost at sea and difficult to find?  I called back to RSVP, and find out what kind of crow was being served for dinner.
  You see, I’m sure hoping they forgot, but at the 15 I volunteered to throw the next reunion together.  If we had a twenty, I sure wasn’t invited–and it is entirely possible that we had one…
  I did find some one from my class about two years ago, and emailed a few times, with talk of getting a reunion together.  That never came to fruition.
  I have since learned my limitations.  I want to be everywhere and do everything and be involved in all the wonder and glory, et cetera.  Christ, what a mess.  Sometimes you have to know when to keep your head down and your mouth shut.  That’s the big lesson I’ve learned 26 years after high school.
  Well, we’re going.  Detroit and I.  At least I have a shiny new divorce and a shiny new girlfriend to show off at the thing.  Hopefully, one of the girls arranging it will be able to pull off bringing us to the high school to have a look around; she actually works there as the school nurse.  I’ll get some pictures, to give you a better understanding and frame of reference when I explain my nightmares.
  The shindig is a three-day event, but I can only make two.  I’m working Friday night, the night of the casual gathering at the golf course clubhouse.  Saturday night is the dinner thing at the VFW hall.  Actually, I’m not sure where it is, but I figure if I drive around town long enough, I’ll find it.  Sunday morning is a brunch at the hotel that I couldn’t book a room at because they were full because of the Trap Shooting National Championship.
  At least the dinner is casual dress.  But not, I believe, camo.

1 Comment »

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  1. GO ahead and wear the camo. No one will see it.

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