This week my best high school buddies got together to launch plans for our 50th class reunion. If truth be told, it’s probably more like our 150th reunion because we get together at the drop of a hat. Nevertheless, we try to put on the dog at least every five years, and the 50th anniversary of our matriculation is cause to put on a dog AND a pony show.
We’re even having it on the weekend of May 23 which is the very same weekend we received our diplomas all those years ago. This must be the most memorable occasion our class has ever staged and we even borrowed a line from Bonnie Raitt “Let’s Give Them Something To Talk About” as our theme.
Ha. That’s a big LOL.What could a bunch of 67 year old Boomers do to give anybody something to talk about? I don’t know, maybe let the air out of our own tires forcing us to stay out past midnight? Play spin the bottle with nitroglycerin?
If the planning session is any kind of an indication of the systemic difference between men and women I’m thinking we may need to hold separate reunions.Of the 10 of us on the committee, only two were males. It became clear to me from the get-go that after a lifetime of tuning out the female voice, the male Eustachian tube has lost the ability to pick up vibrations from a woman. What do they hear when we speak? Crickets?
I commented that we must go all out to make this our best reunion ever. The chairman, Tinker Lautar, cleared his voice and boomed “Folks this has got to be our best reunion ever.” Okay his bad ear was on my side and he probably didn’t hear my brilliant remark. Then the co-chairman, also a guy, hit his fist on the table and declared :”Listen up kids, we’ve got to make this our best reunion ever.” Okay. That decided, the meeting was adjourned.
That’s about all we got done. So we’re going to Tinkers condo in Panama City next month to continue the committee meeting. I hope someone brings a female impersonator – er, I meant a female interpreter. Right now I’m looking for my cheerleader megaphone.