This poem was submitted by Gladys Payne Bohac. She wrote,
"A really good friend sent this to me and I thought it was cute. Our BIG 50th will be here before we know it. You know, as we get older and wiser we realize that material things are not as important as we used to think. Family and friends are worth their weight in gold. We make memories with our family and friends, not with material things. I don't know about you, but I think we all have been richly blessed beyond words."
While we can all see the humor in this poem - and perhaps even identify with some aspects of it – I am sure it does not refer to any of OUR reunions. Oh, how we appreciate our fantastic reunion committee!!! (But please, don’t choose the “Shady Rest Home for the Old” for the event!!!) KD
Class Reunion
Every five years, as the season draws near,
an announcement arrives in the mail.
A reunion is planned; it will be really grand,
make plans to attend without fail!
I'll never forget the first time we met.
We tried so hard to impress.
We drove fancy cars, like big movie stars,
and wore our most elegant dress.
The men all conversed about who had been first
to achieve great fortune and fame.
While all of their spouses described their fine houses
and played the "beautiful children" game.
The homecoming queen, who once had been lean,
now weighed in at 196.
The jocks who were there had lost all their hair
and the cheerleaders could no longer do kicks.
No one had heard about the class nerd
who'd guided a spacecraft to the moon,
Or poor little Jane, who had always been plain,
she married a shipping tycoon.
The boy we'd decreed "most apt to succeed"
was serving ten years in the pen.
While the one voted "least' now was a priest.
Just shows you can be wrong now and then.
They awarded a prize to one of the guys
who seemed to have aged the least.
Another was given to the grad who had driven
the farthest to attend the feast.
They took a class picture, a curious mixture
of beehives, crew cuts and wide ties.
Tall, short, or skinny, the style was the mini;
you never saw so many thighs.
At our next get-together, no one cared whether
they impressed their classmates or not.
The mood was informal, a whole lot more normal;
by this time we'd all gone to pot.
It was held out-of-doors, at a nearby lake shore,
we ate hamburgers, coleslaw and beans.
Then most of us laid around in the shade,
in our comfortable T-shirts and jeans.
By the 40th year, it was abundantly clear,
we were definitely over the hill.
Those who weren't dead had to crawl out of bed,
and be home in time for their pill.
And, now I can't wait; they've set the date;
our 50th is coming, I'm told.
It should be a ball, they've rented a hall,
at the Shady Rest Home for the Old.
Repairs have been made on my hearing aid;
my pacemaker's been turned up on high.
My wheelchair is oiled, and my teeth have been boiled,
and I've bought a new wig and glass eye.
I'm feeling quite hearty and ready to party.
I'll dance 'till dawn's early light.
It'll be lots of fun, but I hope that there's one
other person that can make it that night.
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