The reunion planner

As we speak, I am in the midst of planning my 20-year high school reunion. I’m not exactly sure how I ended up with the gig. Hell, not only did I fail to hold any sort of student governmental position back at Mahopac High School … I actually ran FIVE times, and never won. Not once. Not even close (Lowest moment—8th grade presidential election: Jerry Tesler 330 votes, Jeff Pearlman 30).

And yet, here I am—trying to simultaneously research and write a 500-page biography while chasing down Chris Gnall and Dieter von Ahn for their $100.

The bad news: It’s a true pain in the ass.

The good news: I’m exceeding all attendance expectations by far, and have hired the world’s coolest DJ (MC White Owl of Bad Ronald) for the event.

The best news: Frank Zaccheo, my friend and former classmate, made the above video—and is willing to break legs in order to assure a massive turnout.


A side note—planning the reunion has actually confused me. As a fan of nostalgia, I can’t imagine not attending a reunion. At best, it’s a chance to reunite with long-lost friends over beers and grub. At double-best, it provides some indelible moments. At our 10-year reunion, my pal from high school was standing outside the men’s bathroom. He saw me, started yelling, “Pearl, come here! Come here! Come here!”

“Why?” I asked.

“Just stand here,” he said. “It’ll be worth it.”

Moments later, the bully who used to smack everyone around exited the john. I’m 6’2″, my friend’s 6’3″. The long-ago thug was, at best, 5’8″. Delightful.

PS: One of my dear classmates, Sue Dolson, is fighting for her life against cancer. She is married, with young children. Please visit her website, Thank you.