High School Reunion

It was forty years ago this past June that I graduated from Grafton High School.

Anything and everything I ever learned about the English language and how to use it in its written form, was taught to me in the Grafton Public Schools.

My debt of gratitude to those teachers is immense, for I've used what I learned there on a daily basis ever since. I've never stopped putting my thoughts into words, ever since I was first taught how to form the letters on a piece of paper.

When I attended this school, I lived in abject fear of the world (on the inside) and spent a great deal of my attention on convincing everyone around me otherwise. I haven't seen what's written under my class picture in the yearbook for a long time (it was destroyed in a fire almost a quarter of a century ago), but I think I remember it saying something about "class clown", or something along that line.

Tomorrow ngiht (Saturday), the class of 1967 will reunite at the Grafton Inn.

The Danelectros will be playing. (click on the picture for a larger image)

The prospect of not attending this reunion has played over and over in my thoughts throughout the past few weeks, like an episode of "Curb Your Enthusiasm" in constant replay.

But I have to go. I have to make this pilgrimage into my past, even if it's only to prove that, so far, I've come through the years intact. Besides, at this stage of the game, class reunions become de rigueur because it's a distinct possibility that each one will be the last time I ever see some, or possibly all, of the folks I went to school with.

GAWD! Forty freakin' years, and I STILL feel like my life is only just beginning!

Oh well, ...I HAVE been asked many times by people if I was born yesterday.

Sometimes, it sure does feel like it.