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Show I DON'T BELIEVE WE'VE MET It's that time of year again. Class reunions will be held in every nook and cranny of the old home town. Time again to hurry and take off a few pounds and get a new dye job on the hair. Time for the anxious anticipation of wondering who has lost the most hair, put on the most weight, and had the most kids. ' Ah, nostalgia. You remember remem-ber the best looking guy in the class that used to be sort of sweet on you. You can hardly wait to see him again, being convinced, of course that he has never quite gotten got-ten over you (even though 20 years have passed). What about the best girlfriend, the cheerleader and FFA Sweet, heart (the year you ran and didn't make it). You went everywhere together, shared secrets, and almost lived together. to-gether. A little devil in you secretly hopes maybe she's gained a little weight or a few ' wrinkles. Your hushand al- folds you in his arms. "You haven't changed a bit," he says. "Liar," you think, and "who are you?" Your husband smirks as he says, "well, Bill, long time no see." Bill, your tall, dark, handsome ex-beau. He's shrunk, he surely was not always that short; and his black hair gone given way to a shiny dome. You sudden-ly sudden-ly decide you and your husband hus-band don't look so bad after all so you smile and circulate through the room. Over in the corner with a group of fellows around her you guessed it your dearest friend, and she hasn't changed chang-ed a bit. She has the same smooth face and slim shape. You steer your husband firm, ly to the other side of the room where the girls have aged normally, as you have. The program begins, the old school papers are chuckled over and a classmate plays the school song. The singer of the class gives a rendition of the prom theme and ev eryone sheds a few tears. Then everyone gets out the pictures of their kids. To your horror you realize that you have forgotten your pictures, and your children are so much better looking than anyone elses. You try to explain how beautiful and talented they are, but no one seems to be listening. Then the men sort of divide into groups and so do the women and you find yourself drifting back In time as you gather in a circle with your old girlfriends. You giggle and talk and talk and talk. You remember why your best girl, friend was your best girlfriend the way she always listened to you, sympathized when ever you were blue, and loaned you her best dress for a special date. For an evening even-ing you are young and silly again and you love it. You go home reassured again that your class was the very best that ever graduated from the "old high school." ways usea to ininx sne was kind of cute not as cute as you but cute just the same. And what about the class president, voted most likely to succeed did he? Remember your Prom, the very prettiest the school ever put on. And the song, it still brings tears to your eyes when you hear It on the "Oldies but Goodies" program Do you remember the way ! we used to win every ball-game? ball-game? Memory may have dimmed tout your husband tells you often that when he was the star player, they always al-ways won. He has never been ' able to verify this with concrete con-crete evidence, but he likes to tell it. When he gets together with the rest of the team, , there will be no end to the glorious Instant replays. Remember Annual Day, ; when it was mostly clowning not cleaning; and It would have been considered a crime to tradition unless everyone came home from painting the letter on the hill with more paint on them than on the hill. One thing more you are , certain of, your class was the very best, closest, smartest, cutest, most wonderful class ' that ever graduated from high ; school. Graduation was sensa. tional, your parents were so . proud and everyone had such ; big plans. All the guys were going to be doctors, lawyers, ' and architects. The girls were ; planning careers in nursing ; business and of course, as ' movie stars. ! Well, the big night arrives ; and you've spent hours on ; your hair anj makeup. With '. new girdle the old shape I dcesn't look bad at all and ; even your husband has taken extra pains to touch up his ; hair. ; You arrive a little late and when you walk in you have I a terrible feeling that it is the ; wrong place. You can't see a soul you recognize. A short, ; rather balding fellow bounds to the door, however, and |