I’m attending my 50th high school reunion later this week. I’ve never attended one of these, but the 50th seemed…well, kind of special, so I really want to do this.
I’ve lost track of most all of the 550 guys I graduated from Father Judge with, except a few who, like me, were career Philly cops.
Some turned out to be doctors, some realtors, some business executives, some career military, some teachers—all honorable, productive ways to earn a living and spend a lifetime.
And a few have become priests. One of those priests is now the principal of the school, so it’s his 50th reunion also, which makes this even more special.
When looking at the “before and after” photos that are now on the reunion Web site, I’m amazed at how many of the class of 62 kept their hair! I find this particularly annoying since in my graduation photo, it looks like I’m wearing a toupee. And it’s remarkable how realistic my toupee looked back in 1962!
I’m curious to find out how meeting up with this group is going to affect my emotional status. Am I going to feel old? Young? Good about myself? Or perhaps not so?
This may turn out to be a “zero-sum” proposition, in that I’ll feel as good about myself as I believe the others should feel bad about themselves. And doesn’t that sound terribly selfish!
There is of course a danger in all this. One can take this all too seriously, instead of what it is: just a bash were a bunch of senior citizens get together and reminisce about when they were merelyseniors.
All-in-all, I kind of think it’s going to be fun, interesting, and ultimately enlightening. Who knows, I may find some new friends.
Seriously! I could get to know some of those long-ago acquaintances in a new and improved light—a light enhanced by maturation.