Next weekend, I am attending my high school reunion. Many, many years have passed―more than I care to admit. I will be driving a relatively short distance, just 70 miles or so, to the place I forever consider my home and will be staying in the bedroom I shared―from my entry to kindergarten to graduation from high school―with an older sister. At just about the same time, we both moved to new digs. She got married, and I went to college. Until recently, my mother (Ma) lived upstairs, along with one of my three brothers, and other members of our family have occupied the downstairs. With Ma now playing “Pennies from Heaven” and other favorite songs on a piano in her celestial abode, returning home is no longer the same, but with family there, it is still very, very good.
For me, this upcoming trip requires no extensive travel arrangements, and I’m all set as far as attire, since that is not a primary concern. For any occasion, including this one, I simply put myself together and am presentable. After a glance in the mirror to adjust anything that might obviously be amiss, I move on.
Yet, this occasion, this milestone, this high school reunion does cause me to pause. Read More