484. School Reunion
© Bruce Goodman 6 February 2015
John’s wife said he should go to his old high school reunion.
“You’ll regret it if you don’t,” she said. So off he went.
He had to drive five hours to the town where the reunion was to be held.
The drive gave him time to think. It was a reunion to celebrate fifty years since beginning high school. All his old friends should be there. Not that he had many. He had hated school. They used to make fun of him; the way he walked; the way he talked. At high school he was as timid as a mouse. Even at the school social events, such as the prom, he was a nobody. A nothing.
Now he was different of course. That was fifty years down the line. He had grown in self-confidence. He had been a successful businessman. He had six children and eleven and a half grandchildren. He had much to boast about at the reunion.
The reunion occasion began!
No one could remember him. Not a skerrick of memory. Not a trace of recollection. He might as well have gone to a reunion of dental nurses from the Middle Ages.