Heard about it from a friend who has lived in the same place for a long time. We didn't have a 40th but now we are having a 45th. I went to the 20th which was fun.
I don't feel that old, which is why it's so hard for me to deal with the fact that 58 of my classmates are dead. I read through the list; I can see their faces. I got out my yearbook and looked at their senior pictures. These people have not aged for me so it's even harder to think of them as dead. But yet they are gone.
One in particular that really got to me was Gary Rustad. He sat behind me in homeroom from 7th grade through our senior year. Homerooms were alphabetical. No one joined the school to come between us. He was sort of an obnoxious twerp; but in those days any attention was better than being ignored. Well, he died five years ago. I found his obit which named his dog, Tuffy, as one of his survivors. He also had the usual survivors, wife, kids, grandkids, parents, etc. But he was 58 when he died. I know that happens, but it's not supposed to happen to people with whom I went to high school.
The reunion is Sept. 8th at an Indian casino in Hinckley, Minnesota. I'm not going; just can't afford another trip there. The people I really want to talk with are dead. I want to know what happened to them. How did their lives become so short. I guess that's the newspaper reporter in me. I always have questions.
A walk on the mild side
1 day ago