Blackmoor Vituperative

We spent the last couple of days seeing people we haven’t seen in 20-something years. It was our 20-year reunion of the Menchville High School class of 1984. Initially, I didn’t want to go. Not that I was actually opposed to going, just that it didn’t particularly interest me. Why spend two days socializing with people who are, effectively, strangers? With one or two exceptions, I still keep in touch with anyone I actually cared about in high school. I didn’t really see the point of spending money to go hang out with people just because we happened to attend the same school when we were kids. I don’t feel any emotional attachment to my high school. But Susan talked me into it, so we went.

The first night was casual and social: hors-d’oeuvres, a cash bar, and unstructured socializing. The second night was semi-formal: eight or so to a table, a sit down dinner, a band, and some people danced (although the music was too loud for me). I enjoyed the first night better than the second. I got to talk to people I hadn’t seen in years, hear interesting stories, and tell a few stories. That was more difficult to do on the second night. The stories I heard were much more interesting than the ones I told: my life has been wonderful to live, but it is probably pretty dull to hear about. Other people’s stories were far more entertaining. To my surprise, I did actually run into several people I’d like to see again. A few of those do not live nearby, but perhaps we will run into each other again some day. West Virginia, at least, is fairly close by.

The funniest thing was that I saw my best friend from high school, whom I’ve not seen since 1991, when he attended our wedding. What is funny about that is that he had not been listed on the web page for the reunion, so I had tried to get in touch with him to see if he was coming. I searched Google, and I called people with his name across the USA, leaving no stone unturned (except one), and never found him or anyone who knew of him. It turns out that he works in Virginia Beach and lives in Norfolk, probably no more than twenty minutes’ drive from where I live, and that his parents still live around the corner from Susan’s parents in Newport News. I hadn’t even tried asking them where he might be, because Susan’s mother told us that his parents had moved several years ago. That was the one stone I left unturned, and wouldn’t you know it, that’s where I would have found him, had I looked.

Would it surprise you to know that I was a private investigator for a while around ten years ago? It just goes to show that you lose skills if you do not keep practicing them. Also, always verify your facts, no matter how trustworthy the witness seems. (And, in case you are curious, being a PI is nowhere near as much fun as it looks on TV. It mostly consists of looking up public records, sitting in cars at odd hours, and being underpaid for your time.)

Susan and I took a few pictures each night of the reunion. I’ve uploaded them to Night Gallery. They aren’t labeled: I do not remember everyone’s name, so I’d rather leave them all unlabeled rather than offend anyone by getting their name wrong. If they want to identify themselves, they are welcome to do so. I have to say that I was really surprised at how good everyone looked. The women were gorgeous, and the men, other than having big heads, looked pretty good, too. Not too shabby for people pushing forty.

There was talk about having another reunion in five years (or four years, I guess, since this one was technically a year late). I’m not sure I’ll be up for that. This one was really a lot of fun, and the organizers did a great job, but that seems really soon to me. But I’ll definitely be at the 30 year reunion, assuming that I’m still alive in 2014.