40th Class Reunion Poem
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Supplied by Tana Bowen Roberts 11/16/2002

Every ten years, as summertime nears,
An announcement arrives in the mail,
A reunion is planned; it'll be really grand;
Make plans to attend without fail.

I'll never forget the first time we met
We tried so hard to impress,
We drove fancy cars, smoked big cigars,
And wore our most elegant dress.

It was quite an affair, the whole class was there,
It was held in a fancy hotel.
We wined, and we dined, and we acted refined,
And every one thought it was swell.

The men all conversed about who had been first
To achieve great fortune and fame.
Meanwhile, their spouses described their fine houses
And the beauties their children became.

The homecoming queen, who once had been lean,
Now weighed in at one-ninety six.
The jocks who were there had lost all their hair,
And the cheerleaders couldn't do kicks.

No one had heard about the class nerd
Who'd driven a rocket to the moon,
Or poor little Jane, who'd always been plain;
She married a shipping tycoon.

The boy we'd decreed "most apt to succeed"
Was serving ten years in the pen.
While the one voted "least" now was a priest.
Just shows we're all wrong now and then.

They awarded a prize to one of the guys
Who seemed to have aged the least.
Another was given to the grad who had driven
The farthest to attend the feast.

They took a class picture, a curious mixture
Of beehives, crew cuts and wide ties.
Tall, short or skinny, the style was the mini.
You never saw so many thighs.

At our next get together, no one cared whether
They impressed their classmates or not.
The mood was informal, a whole lot more normal,
By this time we'd all gone to pot.

It was held in the park, just for a lark;
We ate hamburgers, coleslaw and beans.
Then most of us laid around in the shade,
In our comfortable T-shirts and jeans.

By the fortieth year, it was abundantly clear,
We were definitely over the hill.
Those who weren't dead had to crawl out of bed,
And be home in time for their pill.

And now I can't wait!  They've set the date.
Our fiftieth is coming, I'm told.
It should be a ball, they've rented a hall
At the Shady Rest Home for the old.

Repairs have been made on my hearing aid,
My pacemaker's turned up to high,
My wheelchair is oiled, and my teeth have been boiled,
And I've bought a new wig and glass eye.

I'm feeling quite hearty, and I'm ready to party;
I'm gonna dance until dawn's early light.
It'll be lots of fun; I just hope that there's one
Other person who can make it that night

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