THE CLASS REUNION - Author Unknown
Every ten years, as summertime nears,
An announcement arrives in the mail,
A reunion is planned; it'll be really grand;
Make plans to attend without fail.
I'll never forget the first time we met;
We tried so hard to impress.
We drove fancy cars, smoked big cigars,
And wore our most elegant dress.
It was quite an affair; the whole class was there.
It was held at a fancy hotel.
We wined, and we dined, and we acted refined.
And everyone thought it was swell.
The men all conversed about who had been first
To achieve great fortune and fame.
Meanwhile, their spouses described their fine houses
And how beautiful their children became.
The homecoming queen, who once had been lean,
Now weighed in at one-ninety-six.
The jocks who were there had all lost their hair,
And the cheerleaders could no longer do kicks.
No one had heard about the class nerd
Who'd guided a spacecraft to the moon;
Or poor little Jane, who's always been plain;
She married a shipping tycoon.
The boy we'd decreed "most apt to succeed"
Was serving ten years in the pen,
While the one voted "least" now was a priest;
Just shows you can be wrong now and then.
They awarded a prize to one of the guys
Who seemed to have aged the least.
Another was given to the grad who had driven
The fartest to attend the feast.
They took a class picture, a curious mixture
Of beehives, crew cuts and wide ties.
Tall, short, or skinny, the style was the mini;
You never saw so many thighs.
At our next get-together, no one cared whether
They impressed their classmates or not,
The mood was informal, a whole lot more normal;
By this time we'd all gone to pot.
It was held out-of-doors, at the lake shores;
We ate hamburgers, coleslaw, and beans.
Then most of us lay around in the shade,
In our comfortable T-shirts and jeans.
By the fortieth year, it was abundantly clear,
We were definitely over the hill.
Those who weren't dead had to crawl out of bed,
And be home in time for their pill.
And now I can't wait; they've set the date,
Our fiftieth is coming, I'm told.
It should be a ball, they've rented a hall
At the Shady Rest Home for the old.
Repairs have been made on my hearing aid;
My pacemaker's been turned up on high.
My wheelchair is oiled, and my teeth have been boiled;
And I've bought a new wig and glass eye.
I'm feeling quite hearty, and I'm ready to party
I'm gonna dance 'til dawn's early light.
It'll be lots of fun; but I just hope that there's one
Other person who can make it that night.
I'M NOT OLD.......I'M MERELY MATURE!
Today at the Drug Store, the clerk was a gent
From my purchase, this chap took off ten percent.
I asked for the cause of the lesser amount,
And he answered, "Because of the Senior Discount"
I went to the corner for a burger and fries
And there once again got quite a surprise
The clerk poured some coffee, which he handed to me
He said, "For you seniors, the coffee is Free."
Understand......I'm not old.....I'm merely mature
But some things are changing....temporarily, I'm sure.
The newspaper print gets smaller each day
And people speak softer....can't hear what they say.
My teeth are my own (I have my receipt)
And my glasses identify the people I meet.
Oh, I've slowed down a bit...not a lot, I am sure
You see, I'm not old...I'm merely mature.
The gold in my hair has been bleached by the sun
You should see all the damage that chlorine has done.
Washing my hair has turned it all white
But don't call it gray...saying "blonde" is just right.
My friends all get older...much faster than me
They seem much more wrinkled, from what I can see.
I've got "character lines", not wrinkles for sure
But don't call me old....just call me mature.
The steps in the houses they're building today
Are so high that they take your breath away.
And the streets are much steeper than ten years ago
That should explain why my walking is slow.
But I'm keeping up on what's hip and what's new
And I still think I can dance a mean boogaloo.
I'm still in the running...in this, I am secure
I'm not really old...I'm merely mature.
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