The Anti-Reunion Reunion

That's me on the way to the "Box'd Inn" for a 35th reunion party last night. What? No gown? No frou-frou hair? No pearl-studded bag?

Nope. Cuz the "Box'd Inn" isn't one of those boring halls with a roomful of 60" rounds that seat ten. It's not one of those restaurants where you pay 100 bucks to eat rubber chicken while the class president stands at a podium and bores his audience with what he's achieved since graduation day.

Thankfully, the "Box'd Inn" is the home of fellow alum Anne Loftin (that's her to the left) who, with her husband Russell, have started a tradition of what I now call the anti-reunion reunion party. It's more like Anne throws a get together and the fact that everyone who shows up went to high school together is purely coincidence. Doesn't even matter what year you graduated. This year just happened to be our 35th.



But, back to the setting. Guess I managed to miss taking a photo of the house. Picture a tiny cabin nestled in one of the most dangerous fire-prone canyons in Southern California, surrounded by brush, trees, and things that chirp in the night. And, no...that's not it above, but it's the view from the front yard.

So imagine all this outdoorsy nature stuff going on, add the sounds of the 70's, then populate the scene with the oddest assortment of high school people....I mean, really. Check out this picture:

I count only THREE people in this class of '71 group who've ever been to ANY of the "formal" reunions. See what I mean by anti-reunion reunion? Hardly a cheerleader in the bunch (okay, well there are two SONG LEADERS, but everybody knows they were the "bad" girls).

That's Sally Feeny and Jeannie Doyle to the left. After 35 years, I couldn't wait to accuse Jeannie of absconding with the guy I was dying to go to Homecoming with in our sophomore year. She was appropriately apologetic and informed me I hadn't missed anything. (As I recall, the word 'size' was mentioned--or the lack thereof). Anyway, then I told her I'd sorta dated the guy in my late 20's and he was just entering the balding/paunchy stage so neither of us counted it a big loss. That second picture probably explains why he preferred her to me all those years ago.

Anyway...the dreaded question only popped up once or twice (I almost awarded a prize to the first guy who asked). (And, by the way, when did it go from "How come you're not married" to "How come you never married"? Like, geesh. Did I miss something? Is it all over?)