Than a Box of Rocks
My high school class was very naughty and mischievous. But also very smart and resourceful and our principal named us, early on, the “Golden Class.” Some years later our misbehavior, having displeased him and others, prompted him to say in convocation, “The Golden Class has a crack running through it.” Which engendered, judging from the noise in the back, no small number of “crack” jokes. And I don’t mean the drug.
Tonight we have our 35th high school reunion. Why 35? Because people had so much fun at the 30th that the reunion team was asked to run another in 5 years, not 10. And here we are, Hurricane Joaquin having, mercifully, left our Floridian attendees alone.
So with great relish and a warm sense of tradition, I prepare the rocks that will anchor the balloons. Engendering, with any luck, no small number of “golden nuggets” jokes. People don’t change completely. Thank God.