Some people have a blast at their high-school reunions, while others refuse to attend. I like ‘em.
At my 50th this weekend in Pittsburgh, we looked older. Some of us looked old. Several now use canes. I heard a lot of talk about cancer and hearts, along with the usual wear-and-tear stories about knees and backs.
Whatever sexual, semi-sexual or pseudo-sexual vibes might have been slinking around at earlier gatherings were not in evidence this time. Or maybe my vibesight is not as good as it once was.
More than one person observed that we looked like our grandparents.
One, however, didn’t. One stood out.