THE PROBLEM WITH MY CLASS REUNION KS is my first cousin, our fathers were identical twins and we were one year apart at Rigby High School. About ten years ago she arrived at the Shilo Inn Convention Center for the occasion of her 45th High School Class Reunion. She went right past the first room and did not stop because it looked like it was filled with fugitives from the Senior Citizens' Center. The next room was filled with nice-looking younger people, more like she expected. However, after mingling for a few minutes she felt that something was a little off. She left as soon as she discovered that they all belonged to the Kiwanis Club and were not there for a class reunion. KS was feeling lost and confused, so she stopped at the room where the senior citizens were to ask for directions. It was only then that she put on her glasses, and recognized a few of the faces, and saw the maroon and gold banner: RIGBY HIGH SCHOOL Class of 1965. What a freaking nightmare! These "old" people were her classmates!
MK and I also graduated from Rigby High School in 1966, one year after KS. Our 40th class reunion was 15 years ago, a few days after the birth of our identical twin grandsons. Our daughter needed our help and MK was not going to leave. However, she told me that she thought I should go. After three hours, MK called to check up on me at the Jefferson Hills Golf Course. I reported that everyone was having a good time and seemed to be aging gracefully. She opined that I had been with my old girlfriends long enough and that my time at the reunion had expired. I knew that wasn't so. I still hadn't seen two other old girlfriends. There is nothing quite like being hugged by abundant women eating fried chicken. Each of them had one arm around me and a piece of overly juicy KFC in the other hand, waving the chicken around like a pointer to emphasize what they were saying. To this day, all MK knows is that I was a little late and smelled like fried chicken when I got back home to help with the babies. This month the Rigby High School Class of 1966 will have its 55th reunion at the same time as the annual visit from our identical twin Norse-warrior grandsons who come to Idaho just once each year to celebrate their birthdays. I would like to go to the class reunion for an afternoon, say hello to my high school buddies, and hug a few of my old girlfriends again. MK is more inclined to remain in Island Park with her grandchildren than hug her old boyfriends. Even if the grandsons were not coming at that time, there would be the wardrobe conundrum. MK says she has "nothing to wear" except pickleball outfits and old yoga pants. She also has a pickleball court but doesn't play pickleball. Isn’t it strange that when you look really great in anything, you can’t ever seem to find anything to wear -- even though you’ve had five years and ten Nordstrom's sales since the last reunion. Most of MK's online clothes end up being tried on and returned because the size she wants to be is not the size that fits right, and she won't order a size up because that is not the size she wants to be. She says that the larger size won’t look any better anyway -- but I'm not going to write about that. I have a distinct impression that we will be spending our 55th High School Class Reunion in Island Park.
Here you see MK in her natural habitat. She looks like a gentle, protected species, and is not generally considered dangerous. Take it from me, looks can be deceiving. If you meet up with her, you will probably be safe unless you try to drag her off to a class reunion or something, and suddenly find yourself between MK and her grandchildren. Even bear spray doesn't work in that situation. Ever vigilant, RT
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