Hunter S. Thompson wasn't at my reunion...

...neither was F. Scott Fitzgerald. Both literary giants with  a middle initial of S. They weren't there primarily because they are dead. Not that they wouldn't be invited. (even a StX guy was there) They each have a Louisville connection, one eminently more interesting than the other, but I've digressed even before I've started. (Gatsby is a particularly compelling side story)

Last night was my 40th high school reunion. Out of a class of 114 about 40 showed up. Pretty good considering we already have a mortality rate of 15%. Rumor has it that AIDS, diabetes, and suicide are the top reapers. I don't have any of those maladies...so far. This was our best turn-out to date, and I expect it will not be superseded. Like Debbie said, the 50th will be the true acid test of who's really in the game. We took pictures, and the most poignant moment is when we sang the fight song. I hope someone recorded that. 

Nevertheless it was great to see the classmates. Flaget was a catholic all boys school, taught by the Xaverian brothers, most I'm sure in hiding from the mafia. Those were 4 wonderous years. I never had a bad day there. Except the time that Brother O'Toole hung me out the window. Kevin last night said he was sad when he accepted his diploma because the run had been so much fun. I agree. We were then, and still are, a proud bunch. Many successful, some not so much. Interestingly all I talked with are still working. Just another hard fact of where our economy and retirement programs are. Most like me are still married to our first wives, but I've seen a few new spousal faces over the past decades. Billy's wife said she's the trophy wife, and she looked it. I've seen my grade school fellow alumnus Janice at all the reunions, still married to Tim. As an aside, there's a huge football connection intertwined in the Flaget story, probably the main reason for pride of the alumni. 

This reunion like the  2 or 3 others I've been to have given me pause to reflect. Life is too damned short. Good experiences deep in the memory have a way of bursting to the surface. Some things never change, but we'll never be the same. I wouldn't change any story from those days. 

It's a windy, wonderous road.