The class of ‘ 64

The Covington News - - Front page -

a chair from un­der a ta­ble so as to make the noise a chair be­ing pulled from un­der a ta­ble will in­evitably make.

(Once, a fat girl, who was stronger than I, punched me in the belly in the li­brary be­cause I wouldn’t give her the sports sec­tion of the news­pa­per. I grunted from the punch and at­tempted to flee for fear of fur­ther blows.

(In my haste, I pulled my chair from un­der the ta­ble and it made a noise. I had to stay af­ter school ev­ery day for a week and my stom­ach hurt for a month. The fat girl’s name was “Mean Mama,” in­ci­den­tally.)

Ir­re­gard­less — which isn’t a word but was used a hun­dred times a day by one of the coaches — I still look back on my high school years with fa­vor.

I was on the base­ball team and the bas­ket­ball team, and I was in the Key Club and I had a steady girl­friend, which is an­other rea­son I wasn’t par­tic­u­larly dis­turbed when we had no tenth year re­union.

The last time I saw my steady girl­friend, who later be­came much more than that, she was load­ing our liv­ing room fur­ni­ture, my stereo, the bed, and the washer and dryer into the back of a truck.

Who knows what she might still have been in the mar­ket for?

Frankly, I am puz­zled as to what to write witty and clever for the in­vi­ta­tion.

I can say we’ll all drink a few beers, likely, and we won’t have to hide be­hind Robert’s and Alf’s drive-in to do it.

We’ll take a look at one an­other and say things like, “You haven’t changed a bit” when what we re­ally mean is, “I wouldn’t have known you in a mil­lion years be­cause the last time I saw you, you had hair.”

We’ll see who is fat now who didn’t used to be, and who lost weight and who is still ob­nox­ious and who got rich who wouldn’t kiss you good night for the love nor money in school but has been preg­nant prac­ti­cally ev­ery day since grad­u­a­tion. And who has re­tained all his hair and his slim, boy­ish fig­ure. Like me.

We’ll lis­ten to the old songs and tell a lie or two.

And maybe for old time’s sake, I’ll even have a dance with my steady girl­friend who later be­came much more than that while some­body sings, “In the Still of the Night.”

Come to think of it, fif­teen years later is a per­fect time to have a high school re­union. It’s a short enough pe­riod for the good mem­o­ries to be fresh and for the rav­ages of age to gave taken only a soft toll.

And long enough to have for­given an over­due li­brary book, a punch in the belly, and even the night I walked into an empty house and found out for the first time adult­hood isn’t all it was cracked up to be.

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