…on the boundless optimism of time travel

last year, the bastard went to his high school reunion.

and my editor had told me that it's always better to go to your 20th reunion because it's much more interesting than the 10th.

"at the 10th", he said,

"everyone is at the top of their game. everyone's marriage is still new, their jobs still on the up and come, they haven't beaten their bodies up too much, haven't lost too much hair. yeah, you want to go to the 20th."

"the 20th is after the fall. they'll be more interesting when they are all broken up."

so I went and instead it ended up like an o'henry story which was a fuck ton more interesting to me anyway.

but the committee that organized last year's felt that we should do this mote often.

so I'm game.

and it's interesting what a clear sunny Saturday afternoon does to people that are connected by the thread of a school they couldn't give two craps about does.

or maybe we cared a little bit more than we thought we did.

a guy from the class of 1986 asked me what I got out of the old school and I could simply respond that it helped me learn what I didn't want to be in life.

but I also met one of the first women who went to my one time all male high school who told tales of being the only girl in gym shorts and my paramedic friend who exchanged nmotorcycle neck breaking stories with me who told him that it helped her play in the boy's sand box and she's still doing it today.

you see, she's a person of rank in the emts these days.

and I though that I would never be the person I am today if it wasn't for that dump.

any other school wouldn't have made the bastard you read today. just this place.

that building.

these people.

these streets.

and for good or bad, it's how I got here.

and I'd never change that for the world. straight jacket.

—the bastard