Dates

I was at the hairdresser's Friday.

I think men now call their hairstylist a hairdresser, don't they? She's not a barber. For a long time, it was kind of unmanly to say one goes to a hairdresser instead of saying a barber. I cling to very few macho stereotypes, but I'm still unsure about hair cutting.

But I digress. I was waiting to get my hair cut, and my hairdresser said, "I forgot to check what today is". I was going to say "Friday," but then remembered that she has the QlownTown Holiday Calendar hanging in her salon and was wondering what special occasion appeared there. Turns out it was Men's Grooming Day, and we all had a laugh about the appropriateness of my getting my hair cut on that day.

I went to an informal fortieth high school reunion lunch that afternoon--so informal that, out of a class of 177, only eight showed up--and I was glad that my hair was neatly trimmed. After all, try as one might, one doesn't want to disappoint the people one hasn't seen for forty years, does one? I was actually a little nervous beforehand, or so I thought. I realized after the fact that I was just excited to see people I'd seen almost every day of my life for many years. Funny how you can change so much over the decades, yet talk so easily with old friends. Even if we don't see each again for another long span of years, it was nice to check in and see that these people are all right. I continue to care about these people with whom I grew, even though the years have separated us.

There's talk of a more organized gathering in October, and I expect we'll see more alumni then. But eight of us will have special memories to share: "Oh, remember back in August, when we ate at the Yard restaurant and caught up and reminisced? Good times."