Saturday night live

When I was an undergraduate, an evening out usually started at around 9 or 10.  There was a particular establishment that did not really get hopping until midnight, such that if you arrived at 10 you would be all by your lonesome. Two hours later you could not gain purchase on the floor as there were so many students in the joint that you were, I am not exaggerating, often aloft among compressed bodies.

Last Saturday the brothers of old KB got together for a reunion of sorts.  There was a mixed atmosphere since the catalyst for the event was the death of a brother several years older than I.  While it was mostly a joyful time there was a eulogy for the fellow who has passed.  The son of the deceased joined us.

The composition of the gathering was such that I sat at the table with the "young guys"--every single one of the young guys eligible for social security.  And several of the older guys were people I had never met.   There was not a soul in the entire room we reserved that had both (a) color in his hair, or (b) hair.  If you were peddling a membership in the hair restoration club or dye, you would have come to the right spot for customers.

Another thing I noticed was, whereas in prior reunions several brothers brought their spouses, the only women in that room were wives of brothers who had married their last college squeeze. In some cases, the girlfriends--now wives-- had dated other brothers in attendance before wedding their dance partner when the music stopped.

It was very good to see my old buddies.  We told old stories, recounted favorable athletic successes, discussed our health, and mused sadly about those of us who were no longer around. A frequent inquiry at this reunion was "are you retired, yet" followed by either "when did you retire" or "when are you going to retire?"

I still find myself smirking about the most amusing thing about the night.  Instead of us starting out the evening at 9, most of us were saying our goodnights at 9.  My buddy Kenny and I were the last to leave and we were out the door about 9:45 around the time when we would begin cavorting when we were kids. The guy who planned the program knew very well who he was dealing with. Cocktail hour did not start at 9, it started at 5. We were seated at 630. They brought out the cake at 830.  Even the young guys started yawning a half hour later.

Kenny and I went out afterwards for a nightcap. After one drink I told him I was falling asleep.  I did not come close to making it until midnight.