Your mother called: II. Highschool Reunion

Last summer an old friend shared the politics of attending his 35th High School reunion:

Who makes the most money
Drives the nicest car
Has the most hair
The most attractive wife.

I stopped him there, but he didn’t blink. Didn’t notice that I swallowed, held my breath. Looked at him differently.

“Really?” I said. “Is that still a thing?”

He assured me it was, without an ounce of realization of what it would feel  like to still be considered commodity at the age of 50+.

Didn’t realize that despite our friendship, our world travels, our civic-minded spirits–that we were on different sides–of the coin.


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