Well, I just got invited to my high school reunion. Sort of.
What I actually got invited to, via Classmates.com, is a reunion of the John Adams High School classes of 1968 through 1981.
What the hell is that all about?
I could maybe understand this if I went to school in a rural community somewhere in Montana and each graduating class was, like 10 people. But John Adams High School is in Ozone Park, Queens, and the class sizes probably approach the entire population of Montana. So I’m guessing that if the organizers of this event expect to get 14 years worth of high school students into one building at one time, they’re anticipating that a lot of alumni won’t show up. Like most of them.
I mean, that’s a big age span. It’s not like we were even in the school at the same time. Why would I want to be reunited with someone I never met? It’s bad enough going to a reunion and having people look 13 years younger than you without having them actually be 13 years younger than you.
What would I reminisce about with someone who was five years old when I started high school? The closest some of the people at this reunion would have come to protesting the Vietnam War would have been waiting a couple of weeks to see Apocalypse Now.
And what would we dance to? We’d want Seals & Crofts, they’d want Hall & Oates. We’d want The Who and The Band, they’d want The Clash and The Cure. We’d want the Airplane, they’d want The Cars. We’d want the Allman Brothers, they’d want the Pointer Sisters.
We’d want to talk about Woodstock. They’d think we were referring to the bird in Peanuts. Our assassins had names like Sirhan Sirhan. Theirs had names like Squeaky.
Not only would most of the attendees be younger than me, some of them would be geezers who might have been born in the 1940’s!* They could be on Social Security! I don’t want to go to a high school reunion and see people with walkers!
Another thing: I graduated in 1972. Who the hell has a 41-year reunion?
I’m also upset that the reunion will be held at someplace called The Coral House in Baldwin, Long Island. Why would a high school in Queens have a reunion on Long Island? Doesn’t that imply that there are no good places to have a big party in Queens?
Okay, maybe I’ll give them that one.
See you soon.
*If they had a late-in-the-year birthday.
A note about the blurb under my yearbook photo: I have absolutely no recollection of being on the Mathematics Team, nor am I particularly good at arithmetic, though I suppose it’s possible that both my memory and math skills have deteriorated over four decades. However, it’s good to know that I’m as cool now as I ever was.