I missed the 42nd

Early October, I could have flown to France for yet another high-school reunion. This one would have marked the forty-second anniversary. Since this was hard to justify for just a day of festivity and that I didn’t want to get there without my spouse, I simply decided not to go. Not that I didn’t care and didn’t value the scarcer numbers of future opportunities that are left to see all these guys again in one single setting. They were quite graceful however to let me talk at their dinner via a video that I pieced together at the last minute and that, from what I heard, was well received. Yesterday, I saw the first pictures taken on the occasion and, to my dismay, I only could recognize a little over half of my former school mates. The last time I had seen many of them was in 2003, at the previous reunion. Just like me, most of them have changed a lot and we’re all now “sixty-something…” A bit depressed, I made a promise to myself that by hook or by crook I won’t miss the 45th birthday. To make it more palatable, we’ll have it at a nice, sunny resort somewhere in the world, or perhaps, as some of my old buddies offered, right here in Utah!