The Prairie Spy

Alan “Lindy” Linda

So what is it we expect to see at our umteenth class reunion?  Hair with more gray in it than our own? Hair with more hair than our own? Belts with more holes left in them than yours has?

Do we go to see who aged the most, or to see who didn’t?  Who got prettier? Who didn’t?

Or maybe we don’t go at all, because no matter how hard we try, we cannot see a reason to add one more mountain to our summer climbing schedule. Over half of my class didn’t show up to the last one I went to. Maybe there isn’t just one reason to not go; maybe there are several, and they gang up, until they become more powerful than we are.

What do you talk about to someone you haven’t seen in umteen years? “Hi,” you might start out with, “how do you feel about being fatter-balder-greyer-older looking than the rest of us?” That would be a good conversation starter. Be sure and smile. If you’re going to point out someone’s warts, a smile might not be quite enough; better throw in a pat on the back, too.

Another conversation starter might be: “Boy, the President really sucks, doesn’t he?” And then move on. Plan on moving from group to group frequently. Work on your short snorts of derision, and prepare to nod knowingly, no matter what someone says, and use this one: “Well, you know what Abraham Lincoln–Albert Einstein–Mother Teresa said about that,” then move on, before they find out you don’t know what Anyone said about Anything.

Maybe there are other reasons to go to your class reunion.  Maybe your wife wants to have one more go at that farmer’s daughter  you went with back in high school. The one you thought was The One. Yes? You know that one? She wrote you those love letters that you thought were long gone but your wife recently found, the long fuzzy rambling ones in perfumed ink about what a stud you were? 

Remember the last year?  The year leading up to the reunion? The year during which your wife began to sharpen her knives? The year your wife started using the cutesey-wutesey pet names for you that were in The Letters? “Shouldn’t we get ready for church, love bunny?” Or she would look at you over the kitchen table and say, “My, your body is fine like wine, sweet cheeks.”  That was a long year. A long, long, long year. And now the reunion is here.

Life sure sends some stumbling blocks, doesn’t it. Now, you and your wife are finally at the reunion, and oh no! Your place card is right across the table from your old flame, and there she was, and she was looking fine. Had on a red dress she was busting out of and those high heels that said: “Ask me to dance; I’m all yours again.”

Your wife had on a dress that said: “I’ve had three kids, and gravity is winning. You know it. I know it. I hate you. Let’s fight.”

All you remember before you began to frequent the bar was the first thing she said to that hussy, which was something like: “They don’t take out the trash here at all, do they?” Whooeee. 

Now, that was a reunion. Makes you want to stay home, doesn’t it?