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Friday, November 11, 2011



I am back from the 12th (or so) annual Lafayette College DTD class of ’66-’69 reunion.  As usual, a “good time” was had by all.  What has changed over the years is how we all would define a “good time.”
Forty five years ago waking up in a strange room with vomit breath and a severe hangover was considered a “good time.”  Waking up in a strange room with a strange woman was considered a “VERY good time.”  Back in the day, I had many a “good time.”  I had no “VERY good times.” 
After every party there were stories.  Stories only a group of wild and crazy guys could create.  Forty five years later most of these stories become “What the Fuck were we thinking” incidents that only a group of immature ass-holes could have thought were “good times.”
Well…some of the stories were pretty freaking funny.
We started this annual reunion thirteen years ago at the suggestion of brother “Stan- look what the wind- Bluin” (nick names will be used to protect the nincompoops).  Reunions have since been hosted by “Wally” (2), “Gawk”, “Squeak” (2), “Buddy”, “Catfish”, “Obner”, “Joe B”, “Hog Jowles”, “Balla”, and “Pieman” (If I forgot someone blame the age thing).
At the first few reunions we aging fraternity brothers expected to relive and recreate the wild times.  That is when we realized what immature a-holes we were. 
Stories we thought hilarious were received with “eewes” and “yucks” by wives who never knew the good old boys of years gone by.  That ended the telling of most old stories.  We were all pretty much forced to get to know the new and improved “brothers” and create new “good times.” Surprisingly enough it turned out we all still liked each other even sober and somewhat sane.
In the twelve or so years of reunions, the consumption of alcohol has steadily decreased, so much so that this year there was not a single spilled drink, nor a single staggering drunk.  Tobacco use has gone from a combination of cigarette and cigar smokers to one lone smoker, and maybe three cigarettes smoked.  This year the Friday dinner ended at ten.  The Saturday party broke up after the LSU-Alabama game, and the Sunday brunch welcomed no hangovers.
Parties in the nineteen-sixties ended when the sun came up; at the rate we are going future reunions may end before the sun goes down.
Yes, we are all older now and much wiser (wiser is easy when the bar is set real low.)  Instead of swapping stories of drunken debauchery, we compare joint replacement surgeries and medications.  Bragging about kids has been replaced with passing around pictures of grand-children.  Talk of work is being phased out with talk of hobbies and retirement.
In the great flight of life we all met after take-off, wheels up and cruising on auto pilot.  We now meet once a year to discus both the turbulence and the smooth flying.  Before the wheels are dropped and the runway is in sight, I cannot think of a better group with whom to relive the ride.   
Thanks for hosting a great weekend Mr. and Mrs. Wally.  See you all next year!       


  1. Sounds like everyone had a good time. What more can anyone want?

  2. Indeed, what more could anyone want? I love to hear about old friends, remaining friends through the years. There is nothing quite like being with people who knew you "when." Really.

  3. It sounds like you had a super time even though the alcohol was not flowing as it used to getting together with friends is what matters.

  4. The definition of good times may change over the years, but good friends are always part of the mix!

    I agree with Michael Ann above - there is something special about friends from those first 20ish years.

  5. Love this! There's nothing like sharing stories with old friends. Even if you've heard them a million times!

    Visiting via the Rewind.