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Columnist, Sheila Moss, is humor writer from  Tennessee. She writes  a weekly human interest column about daily life and the funny things that happen to everyone.

   She has written for  the Daily News of Kingsport,   Griffin Journal, Oakridge Now, Atlanta Woman Magazine, Aberdeen Examiner, Angleton Advocate,  and Smyrna AM, a supplement of the Murfreesboro Daily News Journal. She has been published by Voyageur Press, McGraw Hill, and the good folks at Guidepost Books.  Her articles have appeared in numerous anthologies and other publications, both in print and online.

    She is a former board member and past  Editor of  the, website of  the National Society of Newspaper Columnists, the oldest and largest professional organization for columnists. She is the Web Editor of Southern  and  a founder of the Southern Humorists writers' organization. She is writer, editor, and webmaster of

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High School Reunion....

High School Reunion

My high school reunion! When I received the invitation I thought it would be fun. I could see all the kids I used to know "way back when," find out what ever happened to so-and-so. 

Itís been years since I graduated. Iíve never been back to a reunion in the past, always too busy having babies, moving from one side of the country to the other, or in the middle of some other life activity. 

I went to high school in another city, another state. This is a true story of how things happened. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent from what Iím gonna say.

With much trepidation, I was off to the big reunion weekend. The first planned event was a reception Ė okay a happy hour, at a local restaurant. I knew where the restaurant was, right across from the high school Ė I thought. 

When I drove up, however, the restaurant had magically changed into an Auto Zone store. "Whereís Harveyís?" I had to ask for directions. "Oh, itís down by the bowling alley, near the racetrack." Racetrack? What racetrack? I donít remember any racetrack. Anyhow, I finally found it. Seems it moved years ago. Why didnít they just say Jerryís Restaurant is now Harveyís Restaurant? 

I wandered around the bar for a while trying to recognize people and introducing myself. I didnít remember them and they didnít remember me. We smiled and pretended to know each other, no one wanting to admit their senility. My God, I thought, they are all so OLD!

Then I finally spotted someone I knew. She used to be a cheerleader, I think. Fat! She was FAT! How could she do this to us? It was awful! 

Backing away, I thought I recognized somebody at the bar. "Are you Tony?" I asked. "Sure, who else," he replied, pointing to his curly hair. Well, at least he still had hair. He was on the football team and never had the time of day for me in school. He quickly blew me off, as usual. I was thrilled! I knew it! People never change, I thought - except they are all so OLD!

Next day was the grand tour of the old school. Seems the old high school burned down some time after I graduated and was rebuilt. It was all different. The only thing we recognized was the main stairway. We used to always wish the school would burn down, but could not believe it really happened. 

The new school does not have a library; it has a computer-learning lab. Computers everywhere. No wonder kids are so smart nowadays. It was sure completely different from the high school days I remember. "We donít buy encyclopedias," said the principal. "The kids do their research on the Internet."

The school tour is where I saw George Ė school stud, captain of the football team, heartthrob of all the girls. Life had been hard on him. He was an ancient, wrinkled old man now. I was secretly a bit happy that he looked so bad. George actually came up and said hello and pretended he remembered me. Jerk! I remembered him too! Oh, well, itís been years. Who cares any more? Poor thing Ė he is so OLD!

Finally, the big event came, a dinner-dance. It was in a convention center that did not even exist when we were teenagers. I was wearing a sexy red dress and had been on a diet. I felt like I looked pretty good. In my heart Iím still 18, of course. 

We arrived late, as usual, and could not sit with the new friends we made at the happy hour, so we sat at the nurses table. They all seemed to know each other from nursing school or the hospital or some place medical. We tried to talk to them and made polite conversation for a while. Finally, we gave up and decided just to dance, have a good time and forget Ďem.. 

Tony caught me in the lobby and tried to make amends for blowing me off earlier at the restaurant. "I was thinking that do I remember you," he said, calling me by the wrong name. Wonder if he saw me driving my Vette when I left the restaurant the other night, I thought.

Iíll never come to another one of these things! Itís like being dead and waking up in senior citizen hell. Iíve lived my whole life without Ďem, so who needs them now? 

They are all so FAT, I thought, and so OLD!

You donít suppose they could be thinking the same thing about me, do you?

Copyright 2000 Sheila Moss

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