The high school reunion planner

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My wife warned me.

“Don’t do it,” she said.

Why? I asked.

“Because it’s a ton of work.”

Nah.

“You’ll regret it.”

Nah.

“Yes you will.”

Nah.

She was right. Two months ago I agreed to plan the Mahopac High School Class of 1990 20-year reunion. Tonight, I spent, oh, four hours compiling an incomplete e-mail list of my classmates at the Mirage Diner. In short, it sucked. I’m not yet at the point of regret, but I’m already stunned by the lack of overall interest. For me, high school sorta sucked—but I’m riveted by reunions; by seeing what became of people from way back when. It’s like reality TV brought to life … and I dig that.

Others, however, don’t. Or don’t seem to. I keep asking people, “Are you coming!!!!???” and I’m greeted by a shrug and a “Eh, maybe.”

Oh, well. I’ll be there—if there is a there.

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