Richard Montgomery HS Class of 1970 Re-union

“Here I sit all broken-hearted, tried to …” Well, tried to think of something important to say about attending my high school’s recent 40th class re-union.  But everybody else has already said it better than I could.

There were so many old friends, many I had not seen for forty years that it was bewildering.  All these faces, some familiar, some not.  Most looking as if a few decades had indeed gone by, what with a wrinkle here, a bulging waistline there, a bit of bald head on some, grey blurring into white on others.  But there were plenty of sparkles in the eyes.  You see, I’ve always been an eye man.  That’s where most of the hints are waiting to be picked up, the signals being sent.  We were really glad to be a part of it, and to celebrate both our longevity and our friendship.

Hard to describe how it felt to approach someone, and find out I was completely wrong; whoops, so you’re NOT the person I thought you were.  Oh well.  At least I gave it a shot, and went beyond the comfort zone of the dozen or so close friends in attendance.  (One had no idea who I was; the other was the spouse of a classmate.)  Some of them I had stayed in touch with all these years, others had been brought back to me by social networking software and a desire to be reconnected.

Couldn’t possibly say which part of was more fun: the Friday evening mixer which raised the curtain on old classmates; the Saturday afternoon mini-gathering at the house of a friend’s sister, where about twenty of us met in a more intimate venue; the slightly more formal re-union Saturday night, which featured dancing; or the Washington Nationals baseball game on Sunday, where we got to get up close to one of our own, Jim Riggleman, now the manager of the Nats.

Some were inspirational, having accomplished a great deal in a career, or through hard work and discipline had made themselves into enviable physical specimens, the kind that live longer than you and me.  Most had something to say, while others were content to listen.  Of course, there was not enough time to revisit each person and give their story the due diligence it deserved.  But we were there.Old people ready for more.

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