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youthfulness. Some examples:

The Jock In high school, Russ was as big as a house and our football team's fullback. He also played center on our basketball team and was a star heavyweight wrestler on our state-champion wrestling team. As I recall, he also looked pretty good in the shower. (I, on the other hand, was subject to the sad phenomena of shrinkage.) Now 45 years later, Russ had let himself go it seemed. He was still gigantic, but he showed up way overweight and completely out of shape. He also wore a knee brace and walked with a cane. Poor guy had also lost most of his hair. This was sad because, next to looking good in the shower, Russ loved to slick down and comb his wavy, red hair.

The Campus Queen Who can forget Sandra (of the Jayne Mansfield headlights, no less). She was breathtaking in every way. Her eyes were the bluest of blue and she reminded me of Marilyn Monroe. Just sitting in the same classroom with her was like being in the presence of an angel. She was head cheerleader, Homecoming Queen, Spring Fling Princess, everything. Sandra had taken good care of her figure, although, as one might expect, she appeared to have sagged a bit in places and she dressed like a Las Vegas hooker. She has waged the good fight against facial wrinkles as well. I'm no expert in these things, but I would say from the plastic expression on her face and the total lack of wrinkles around her eyes and forehead, that she, Botox and her neighborhood plastic surgeon are one. Perhaps by our 50th reunion, Sandra will have given up the fight and surrendered. Maybe she'll realize that rather than looking like Marilyn Monroe, now she looks more like Phyllis Diller.

The BMOC (Big Man on Campus) Jeff was the president of everything: Student Council, Honor Society; you name it. Moreover he was an alha-plus, because he was our footbal team's placekicker. Jeff even got his own page in the front of the yearbook along with his own written inspirational message. It was heady stuff like "we are the citizens of tomorrow, and unto us the torch will be passed." Jeff later wrote in his reunion biography that he served two years in prison for draft evasion, apparently preferring to serve over 700 days of his tomorrows in the big house, rather than go to Vietnam. Now, he is portly and balding, but sports a ponytail. I learned that he is a left-wing activist and writes a lot on internet sites like Move On.com. Since I am rather conservative, I avoided joining his table where they were discussing the plans to impeach George Bush. (That ponytail really was annoying, though.)

Since that 45th reunion, time has sped by. (That's what happens as you get older. A year seams like a month.) In about 18 months we will all gather again for the 50th! Will it really have been a half century since our class of 400 paraded in cap and gown together and sang our sentimental school song ,"Dear Alma Mater ... , we will remember thee"? At our 50th coming up in 2010, most of us (not yet pushing up daisies or floating as dust in the cosmos) will be closer to 70 than 60 years old, and I'm guessing that the event planning will include an ambulance outside the reunion room in case the jitter bug dance contest ends tragically.

I heard someone say that time is the fire we all burn in. In that respect, reunions of superannuated alumni do somewhat resemble a burn unit in a hospital where all patients are equal in the end. Time has a way of equalizing everything, and today I look OK in the shower. But at my age, who wants to look?

Learn more about this author, Jerry Curtis.
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