I have too many friends and not enough enemies

Hugga, BT and The Prez—my three best friends from high school—have talked me into going to our upcoming class reunion, number 30-something, I think. I’m not sure why we’re bothering. The four of us have remained close over the long years without any formal reunion hoo-hah; the rest of our graduating class we barely know, or in my case, knew.

My high school career was not distinguished. I skipped so often my 12^th grade history teacher began referring to me, on those rare occasions I showed up for class, as the “prodigal son.” I’d mention his name here, but as I saw him only rarely, I can no longer bring it to mind.

Same goes for most of the rest of my fellow students.

I do remember one kid; he had crazy hair, ala Nicholas Cage in “Raising Arizona.” His hobby was taxidermy and he had a stuffed bullfrog mounted to the dashboard of his Chevy. It might have been posed there with a tiny banjo, but that may just be my memory embellishing the facts.

Then there was the dazzling blonde girl who wore a little silver spoon on a chain around her neck. I was pretty naïve back then and had no idea what that was all about. She had a lot of nervous energy, but I never made the connection until decades later.

These days she’s probably a retired Los Angeles super-model. Or a grandmother. Or both.

And Mady Cody, now there’s a name I remember. We had an art class together and I was madly in (unrequited) love with her. She had a boyfriend in college; girls like her are born with a boyfriend in college. We sat together and talked every day, but I never told her how I felt. She was the little red-haired girl to my Charlie Brown.

Hugga, my friend mentioned in paragraph one, was also in (unrequited) love with her. There was no rivalry there because we both knew she was too good for either of us.

I’m hoping she doesn’t show up at the reunion. As it is, she remains in my mind the ineffable ideal of what a girl should be. If I see her again, I’ll no doubt witness those ravages of time that seem to plague everyone except, ahem, me.

I’m not sure I want reality intruding on my fantasies.

Speaking of fantasies, I’m going to have to come up with a new one to explain everything I’ve been doing since high school. Or maybe not been doing would be a better way to put it.

Reunions—from everything I’ve seen in movies—are supposed to be a time when you return home famous, rich or much-honored, and then rub your former enemies’ noses in it. This isn’t going to work for me as I’m neither rich, famous nor honored. Also, I skipped school so often I never really cultivated any enemies.

On the plus side Anne, my fiancée, will be attending with me, so at least I’ll be with the prettiest woman there. I just wish I had some enemies to make jealous with that fact. All I have are friends, the sort that are happy for my good fortune.

Where’s the fun in that?

More Reality Check online at http://mtrealitycheck.blogspot.com or www.mlive.com. Email Mike Taylor at mtaylor325@gmail.com.