You might think I had a wild and crazy time. You would be wrong.
It was more like putting on a warm sweater and snuggling into memories of long ago.
A few observations:
Only old people showed up. Imagine that.
I didn’t recognize many faces at first, but after the first words were spoken, fond memories came rushing in. Heartfelt hugs followed.
My classmates appeared even kinder and wiser than in high school. Somewhere along the way, 60 years of aging proved to be a good thing.
Old friends, who seemed so confident and popular in high school, shared how insecure they felt on the inside. It reminded me of me.
Upon departing, I recognized how fortunate I was growing up — protected by loving parents, taught by dedicated teachers and surrounded by the wonderful kids in the class of 1963.
Life is art