The Boys of '59
Saturday night the reunion dinner was high above the city in a restaurant that had a killer view, and also had a lovely terrace, upon which you could have a romantic dinner if you wanted to get blown off the building into the streets of Manhattan, thereby adding more excitement to the festivities than called for. Saturday wasn't warm. It was cold and it was drizzly and there was a lot of briskness blowing around.
When attending these functions I am a Wife -- I have outfits for it and everything; my life as an actress -- and so I got to stay in with the other Wives and watch the Boys of '59 go out on the terrace to have the class picture taken. Why they were forced by the photographer to go out on the terrace in the drizzly wind I don't know -- maybe he was just being mean. Anyway, we watched the guys from our warm indoor vantage. They're not what I'd call elderly, but they're none of them young anymore either, and it was very touching, watching them drag furniture around and stand together for their picture. They knew each other when they were 18. Time's gone by. One of the other Wives was a bit distressed, watching them in that cold wind. "The poor dears," she said. "And so many of them have comb-overs, too."
True, they were all sort of busy with their hair.
Anyway. Dinner was great, and then we had the amusing and yet meaningful speech, which is traditional at these things. The part I enjoyed best concerned the athletic endeavors of the Columbia College football team. 40 guys tried out for the football team; 40 guys made it. They were playing such teams as West Point, where 300 guys tried out and 40 made it. They pretty much lost all their games, even though Sam was on the team. I hear a lot about Sam and his extraordinary athletic abilities at these reunions. 45 years later, that's what the guys still remember. But despite Sam being on the team, Columbia was pretty damn bad at football. However. They were Columbia. The speaker remembered that once they were sitting around getting beat by West Point by about 340 to 0 or some such, when one of them said, "Don't worry, guys. We're smarter than they are." Yah, yah, West Point, you losers. Neener, neener.
Good thing Sam was on the team, cause otherwise they'd have been losing games they didn't even play.
Last thing we did was have lox and bagels for breakfast on Sunday, before we drove for 8 hours to get home. The child, who does not appear on the blog, ever, cause his mother has scruples, negotiated to have his picture taken in a manner approved by his mom. Here you are:
There -- blurry, no face. That should do it.
And finally, me at the breakfast, giving the guys fair warning:
Loved the food, loved New York (he who is tired of New York is tired of life, pace Sam Johnson), loved hearing the guys reminisce -- glad to be home.
Did NO knitting. That's what kind of a trip it was.
When attending these functions I am a Wife -- I have outfits for it and everything; my life as an actress -- and so I got to stay in with the other Wives and watch the Boys of '59 go out on the terrace to have the class picture taken. Why they were forced by the photographer to go out on the terrace in the drizzly wind I don't know -- maybe he was just being mean. Anyway, we watched the guys from our warm indoor vantage. They're not what I'd call elderly, but they're none of them young anymore either, and it was very touching, watching them drag furniture around and stand together for their picture. They knew each other when they were 18. Time's gone by. One of the other Wives was a bit distressed, watching them in that cold wind. "The poor dears," she said. "And so many of them have comb-overs, too."
True, they were all sort of busy with their hair.
Anyway. Dinner was great, and then we had the amusing and yet meaningful speech, which is traditional at these things. The part I enjoyed best concerned the athletic endeavors of the Columbia College football team. 40 guys tried out for the football team; 40 guys made it. They were playing such teams as West Point, where 300 guys tried out and 40 made it. They pretty much lost all their games, even though Sam was on the team. I hear a lot about Sam and his extraordinary athletic abilities at these reunions. 45 years later, that's what the guys still remember. But despite Sam being on the team, Columbia was pretty damn bad at football. However. They were Columbia. The speaker remembered that once they were sitting around getting beat by West Point by about 340 to 0 or some such, when one of them said, "Don't worry, guys. We're smarter than they are." Yah, yah, West Point, you losers. Neener, neener.
Good thing Sam was on the team, cause otherwise they'd have been losing games they didn't even play.
Last thing we did was have lox and bagels for breakfast on Sunday, before we drove for 8 hours to get home. The child, who does not appear on the blog, ever, cause his mother has scruples, negotiated to have his picture taken in a manner approved by his mom. Here you are:
There -- blurry, no face. That should do it.
And finally, me at the breakfast, giving the guys fair warning:
Loved the food, loved New York (he who is tired of New York is tired of life, pace Sam Johnson), loved hearing the guys reminisce -- glad to be home.
Did NO knitting. That's what kind of a trip it was.
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