There is No Better Reality Check than a 50th. Reunion

My birth certificate, gray hair, mild arthritis, bifocals, four middle-aged children, and four grandchildren indicate that I have been around for awhile. However, I am totally independent, fairly healthy and quite active physically, mentally and socially.

On Friday, August 14 I drove the 125 miles from Pittsburgh to Erie, Pennsylvania to attend a two-day 50th. class reunion.

In September of 1961, I, along with thirty-one other fourteen year-old boys, reported to St. Mark Seminary in order to begin studying for the Roman Catholic priesthood. We entered an alien world of strict discipline, regimented daily schedules, challenging academic studies and personal responsibility. I left the seminary in June of 1965.

A half-century later, seventeen of us were reunited. I'll bet that's why it's called a reunion. Among the no-shows, four are dead. I don't know the others' reasons for not attending. Three had actually completed the 12-year program and were ordained priests. Among those who did attend, most had gray hair or no hair, were married, divorced or widowed and were parents and grandparents. We had a great time golfing, reminiscing and catching up on what we each had been doing during the past fifty years. We also consumed more alcohol, laughed louder and stayed up much later than we had for quite some time.

During the long drive home, I couldn't help thinking about how old my former classmates had become. Then, when I glanced in the rear-view mirror, I was shocked to see an old man staring back at me.