Text 9636, 90 rader
Skriven 2014-02-06 21:16:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: reunion 161
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When the time came, the T got me where I wanted to go.

Looking for the late registration table, I was pointed to a
tent in the science center triangle; I went in and was
appalled to see that I was in the midst of a sea of old
people.

It turned out that I was at the wrong gathering, mine being
at the other part of the tent, so I trotted over there and
was appalled to see that I was in the midst of a sea of even
older people. I crashed breakfast among my fellow senior
citizens and made plans for the day with old friends whom a
day ago I had no idea I would be seeing. I shortly found
Donna, who convinced me to buy a ticket for the "tailgate"
dinner before the game (I didn't know or care who was
playing, so I gave the game pass that came with dinner to
the pert little undergraduette cashier, who seemed more than
appropriately grateful), so I dutifully trucked back to
reception, where I was cheerfully charged $90 for dinner as
well as the $40 registration fee.

The feature early presentation was How the Digital Age
Affects Relationships from the Office to the Bedroom, a sexy
topic to begin with and the moderator being a famous ham,
so that seemed like a good choice to start off with, but
some of my classmates, perhaps stung by having been the
alternate attraction at such gatherings in the past, lobbied
for attending a lecture on the first worldwide census of
marine life, which turned out to be pretty cool despite the
presenter's every second word being "um." I shouldn't cast
heavy stones here, as the few times I have been in this
unenviable position without my usual violinistic prop, my
every second word has been "um."

After that, a symposium on Decline and Resilience in the
Economy, a topic of universal interest, so I don't think
there was a secondary offering, if you will. The star was
one of the architects of Greek economic reform, George
Papandreou, who was of our vintage but at Amherst. Also on
the panel were a few of our more eminent economic and
governmentally oriented classmates, and much attention was
paid by the audience; at our age we are more hit by decline
and hope just as ardently for resilience compared to younger
folks. I caught sight of the Dodger, who expressed pleasant
surprise before introducing me to the former prime minister
as one of his greatest fans (I don't know if that's true or
not, but close enough).

Donna convinced me to go back to my first residential house 
for lunch; I had first thought of listening to the forum on
effecting societal change, where Ellen C. was presenting.
Lunch, as it turns out, cost bunches of dough for college
dorm fare, so I just sat with my classmates, especially
Lindsay, who now gets a lot more acceptance than when she
came out as transgendered at our 30th. I chatted with a
bunch of the folks and refrained from envying the elderly
reliving their childhoods with cafeteria food.

Soon it was time to mosey to the class photo on the library
steps. My old townie buddy Malcolm is now a bit mobility
challenged (I am not sure - motorcycle accident or beatings
from rival gangs, probably one or the other), so we left a
half hour early (he has also become very cautious about
time); even at his pace it took us only 10 minutes, and we
had lots of time to mingle with the gathering crowd and
chat about our ailments and the olden glory days.

Chaos at the class photo, as not only was our class among
the most rebellious of a froward bunch, but many of us are
now somewhat hard of hearing. The procedure took much longer
than it should have, even with a megaphone, but it was a
sunny day.

I passed on the class survey report, as it is a matter of
total uninterest what percentage of my mates have died,
earn over a million a week, are divorced more than seven
times, and so on, instead finding people from the freshman
dorm and my other residential house who were still alive,
still married, and not raking in quite that amount of dosh.
Getting reconnected with them - some over the space of the
whole 40 years - was worth any number of statistical self-
indulgences.

The class memorial service was sort of de rigueur, though,
though I am equally indifferent to the list of passings, but
some of my friends were playing or singing or preaching.

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