This weekend, I attended all three events for our high school class' fortieth reunion. It was great; nothing at all like I remember high school. For one thing, I talked to three cheerleaders, and one of them hugged me! And that wasn't even the best part.
Our French teacher was a Holocaust survivor, She seemed to view us as soft, entitled brats, and looking back, she was probably right. She was pretty contemptuous of us, and pretty scary, what with the ear twisting, the yelling, et d'autres. But one day, she showed a movie, then asked the class what it reminded them of, and they drew a blank, except me! I answered her question. She said, "We'll make something of him if the little piggies don't eat him first." High praise, indeed, coming from her. But it's really hard to boast, "Uh huh, that's right, I answered a question in high school." But someone at the reunion remembered, and brought it up!
And other people came up to me and said nice things. I'd make them look at my name tag with my class picture on it, and they'd say, "I know who you are."
Oh, and the weather was perfect, I won a bottle of glacier water, we visited our fifth grade teacher, toured a fish hatchery, and we've got amazing house guests who are charming, brilliant, and know how to do things! I left my tool box outside their door so if they see something broken or stuck, they can just fix it as they go by. And they are!
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