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Fred Kunze
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Every Ten Years
Thanks to Margo Feist
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 out most elegant dress.
It was quite an affair; the whole class was there.
It was held at a fancy hotel.
We wined and we dined and we acted refined,
And everyone 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 how beautiful their children became.
The homecoming queen, who once had been lean,
Now weighed in at one-ninety-six.
The jocks who were there had all lost their hair,
And the cheerleaders could no more do kicks.
No one had heard about the class nerd
Who had guided a spacecraft to the moon;
Or poor little Jane, who had 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’
Shows you can be wrong now and then.
They awarded a price 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 out-of-doors, at the lake shores.
We ate hamburgers, coleslaw and beans.
Then most of us lay 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 our of bed
And be home in time for their pill.
And now I can’t wait; they’ve just 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 been tuned up on high.
My wheelchair is oiled, my teeth have been boiled,
And I’ve bought a new wig and glass eye.
I’m feeling quite hearty, I’m ready to party;
I’ll dance ‘til dawn’s early light.
It’ll be lot of fun. I just hope there is one
Other person who gets there that night.
Class Reunion
Thanks to Elaine Liggitt
It was my class reunion, and all through the house, I checked in each mirror and begged my poor spouse
To say I looked great that my chin wasn’t double, And he lied through false teeth, just to stay out of trouble.
Said that ‘neath my thick glasses, my eyes hadn’t changed,
And I had the same figure, it was just a mite rearranged.
He said my skin was still silky, although looser in drape.
Not so much like smooth satin, but more like silk crepe.
I swallowed his words hook, sinker, and line
And entered the banquet feeling just fine.
Somehow I’d expected my classmates to stay
As young as they were on that long-ago day
We’d hugged farewell hugs.
But like me, through the years, They’d added gray to their hair, or pounds to their rears. But as we shared a few memories and retold some class jokes,
We were eighteen in spirit, though we looked like our folks.
We turned up hearing aid volumes and dimmed down the light, Rolled back the years, and were young for the night.
Donna Presnell
After reading the poems, click on the small picture below.
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Beauty of Aging
Thanks to a Friend
I am now, probably for the first time in my life, I the person I have always wanted to be.
Oh, not my body! I sometimes despair over my body , the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the sagging butt. And often I am taken aback by that older person that lives in my mirror, but I don't agonize over those things for long.
I would never trade my friends, my good life, my loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I've aged, I've become more kind to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend.
I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that pink elephant that was a silly purchase but looks so avant-garde in my guest room.
I am entitled to overeat, to be messy, to be extravagant.
I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.
Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 a.m., and sleep until noon? I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60's, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love... I will.
I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the bikini set. They, too, will get old. Much faster than they think.
I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten , and I eventually remember the important things.
Sure, over the years, my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when a beloved pet gets hit by a car?
But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion.
A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.
I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turn gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face.
So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver.
I can say "no", and mean it. I can say "yes", and mean it.
As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong.
So, to answer your question, I like being older. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be.
And I shall eat dessert every single day.
Class Reunion 2
Thanks to Marge Larson
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 at a fancy hotel.
We wined, and we dined, and we acted refined,
And everyone 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 how beautiful their children became.
The homecoming queen, who once had been lean,
Now weighed in at one-ninety-six.
The jocks who were there had all lost their hair,
And the cheerleaders could no longer do kicks.
No one had heard about the class nerd
Who'd guided a spacecraft to the moon;
Or poor little Jane, who's 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 you can be 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 out-of-doors, at the lake shores;
We ate hamburgers, coleslaw, and beans.
Then most of us lay 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 been turned up on 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 'til dawn's early light.
It'll be lots of fun; But I just hope that there's one Other person who can make it that night.