Thursday, February 25, 2010

Together again

This is the party where I sort of met SH. He walked into the party with our mutual friend Pete. I waved and said hi to Pete and SH waved back. I said, "I wasn't saying 'h'' to you. I was saying 'hi' to Pete and Julie." Yeah. Manners.

posted Sat, 12 Nov 2005

I love class reunions. Love them. I have to admit that the reasons I love them are petty, shallow and vain. It’s because I was fat in college and am not fat now. And that time has worked in the opposite way on some of my classmates. Pathetic, isn’t it? Yes, I am suitably chastened now and ashamed of my behavior. Let’s move on, shall we?

Last night was the first big party for the Rice University class of 1985. Not that the turnout was so huge. I don’t know what it’s like for other schools, but Rice does not – or did not, when I was there – have a particularly active or activist population.

Maybe it has something to do with the football team. Maybe if you have a focal point around which to rally, you have a more loyal, enthusiastic student body. But our football has never been a point – more of an undifferentiated mass. It’s hard to get excited about a team that shared the longest losing streak in Division 1 football with Northwestern – and then lost to Northwestern.

So of a class of about 500, maybe 100 people came to the party. There are probably that many Rice alumni from our class in Houston alone! Or within driving distance of Houston. That’s OK. The ones who showed up were mostly pretty neat people.

Only – who were they?

Some of them looked ten years older than the rest of us. I walked in and saw these bald men and thought we were in the wrong party. I am so glad that everyone had nametags because I would not have been able to identify people without them.

Even with the nametags, I was having trouble. I knew the name, but darnit, how did I know the person? Was it from a class? Had I sat next to him at dinner every night for three years? Had I kissed him once? Or twice? Or more? This could be a problem.

One woman introduced herself to me. “Hello, I’m Diane. You look familiar to me.”

“I’m CF,” I said. “I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you.”

“I was in Weiss,” she said.

“Lovett,” I replied.

“So what are you doing these days?” she asked.

I sighed, having answered this question already a dozen times. “I haven’t made partner. I haven’t published a book. I’m not a doctor or a professor. I have accomplished nothing of significance since I graduated and I am about to be unemployed.”

Her eyes lit up. “My sister! Me neither!” She gestured toward my dress and shoes. “But your outfit is stunning and you are gorgeous! Let’s talk!”

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