Forty years after our graduation, with the exception of a few high-school sweethearts who\u00a0did<\/b>\u00a0later marry, our class remained divided along gender lines.\u00a0 We were still largely unfamiliar with about half of the members of our class.\u00a0 However, in planning our 40th<\/sup>\u00a0reunion, that changed.\u00a0 Once located, classmates were invited to join a couple of social-networking sites, through which (and along with the help of many group e-mails) we got to know one another as new acquaintances or to renew old friendships.\u00a0 By the time our reunion rolled around, most of us were up to date on events in the lives of one another.\u00a0 As a result, we were well equipped to carry out the real business of a reunion:\u00a0 To pare away four decades\u2019 worth of the laugh- and wisdom lines, post-pregnancy jelly rolls, shiny pates, and well-earned gray hairs we had acquired (oh-so-gradually) over the years, thus revealing our inner adolescence and all of its madcap, devil-may-care components.\u00a0 To say that a good time was had by all at that reunion is an understatement.\u00a0 The evening might not have been the time of their lives for\u00a0some<\/i>\u00a0revelers, but I challenge anyone who was there to say that it was a flop!<\/p>\n Since that momentous party, quite a few of my girls\u2019-school classmates and I have met every couple of months for lunch or brunch, extending invitations (well in advance of each event) through our web-site \u00a0connections, telephone calls to the technologically challenged, and other channels.\u00a0 If one of us learns that someone who has long since moved out of state will be on Long Island for a brief visit, we make every effort to schedule a lunch date during her stay here.\u00a0 We meet in groups of as few as three or four and up to 20 or so.<\/p>\n We delight in a common history which encompasses far more than memories of eccentric and\/or brilliant teachers and high-school hijinks. Oh, sure, we\u00a0do<\/b>\u00a0groan when reminiscing about having to wear pleated, gray, wool uniform skirts and navy-blue blazers in classrooms without air conditioning.\u00a0 Our utilitarian polyester gym uniforms, guaranteed to accentuate the flaws of every single body type known to mankind, are the stuff of legend.\u00a0 Whoever designed those bloomers and shirtwaists will no doubt spend eternity in a special hell guarded by a similarly (and deliciously) condemned branch of the parochial school fashion police.\u00a0 We discuss (and, finally, fully appreciate) the sacrifices our parents made to educate us and wonder if our lives might have taken different directions had our parents\u00a0not<\/b>\u00a0made those sacrifices.\u00a0 We rejoice with the person who reveals a triumph and cry genuine tears of sympathy for the woman who shares a personal tragedy.\u00a0 We\u00a0care<\/i>.What else do we discuss?\u00a0 In the hours we spend at a single gathering, our conversations might revolve around our joint replacements, diabetic complications, special diets, marital-status changes, the appearance of errant but supremely pluckable chin hairs, retirement parties, plans for downsizing, various cancers conquered, children, grandchildren, tattoos, LASIK surgery, the priestly ordination of women, dogs, cats, *Peaches & Herb, in-laws, parents\u2019 health problems, deaths, births, travels, hair styles we love and loathe, lactose intolerance, music, pap smears, liverwurst (yes, liverwurst!), an upcoming art exhibition by a classmate, what to order for lunch, and myriad other topics of universal interest.\u00a0 So far-reaching are our lunchtime topics of conversation that the better question would be, \u201cWhat topics do we not<\/b>\u00a0discuss?\u201d \u00a0Our conversations often lead to questions and, while we don\u2019t claim to have all the answers to any of them (nor do we agree at all times when debating the fine points of a controversial issue), we are comfortable enough with one another to express our opinions freely and\/or confident enough about our friendship to agree to disagree.\u00a0 We are as mixed a bag now as we were back in the 1960s.<\/p>\n Through our tears and laughter (and sometimes tears\u00a0of<\/b>\u00a0laughter), we are unanimous in our agreement about one thing above all others, though:\u00a0 Just as we were God\u2019s works in progress back in the mid-1960s, so we are to this day.<\/p>\n This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.<\/span>” mce_’ + path + ‘\\” + prefix + ‘:’ + addy51000 + ‘\\’>’+addy_text51000+'<\\\/a>’; \/\/–><\/p>\n Follow us on Twitter – @DigiPrintNews<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/www.dpnlive.com\/images\/stories\/misc2\/high_school_reunion.jpg\")
There is a beauty to these gatherings which is difficult to describe to anyone who has not experienced anything like them.\u00a0 Although several of us enjoyed close friendships during our high school years, most of us separated when we went off to college and then quietly, inexorably drifted apart, sometimes geographically but most often as the result of our respective careers and\/or new family responsibilities. But by the time our regular \u201cmini-reunions\u201d began (now almost five years ago), most of us had both the time and inclination needed to rediscover and reexamine the ties that first bound us.<\/p>\n