No one ever invited me to any reunion. Not my school, not my college, or post grad people, nothing. And when I meet my old classmates, they look relieved and say thank goodness no one has pushed the idea of a reunion.
We are all vain about our looks and those of us once full cheeked beauties now look like tired old bulldogs.
A relative who was a good decade older than I, was all excited over her batch of 1960 classmates who had converged from all parts of the globe to celebrate their reunion. The first thing they did was say a prayer for those of their batchmates who had died.
Since all of them had retired like, years ago, they all had a lot of leisure time. So the reunion was stretched to include events and celebrations over a month. Unfortunately, during that period three of the batchmates' spouses died and everyone of them was badly spooked. They wound up their celebrations after three weeks and hotfooted it back to where they came from.
Another relative attended his reunion. These were men who were once boys and thought they were boys once again. He came back saying a gala time was had by all. They ate, they drank (there were twelve bottles of Black Label and assorted boose and they made merry.
They must have made very merry because they looked terrible in their group photograph with death rictus smiles and unfocussed eyes. That group photograph was the clarion call for me.
I'll die before they photograph me in a group like that.