Reunion

I had been meaning to get my nails done and thought I might as well for the reunion.  Did so, in a bright, sort of primrosy color.
Didn't leave until 1:00, which is when I was told mass would be conducted.  Since I'm not religious, I thought it would be hypocritical to go through the motions; besides, I find it boring.
Good grief, when I got to Smithville, I saw hordes and hundreds, throngs and thousands of people--they were having their annual Italian Festival!  Maybe those on the committee should have thought to ask if anything else was going on--Smithville is famous for one "festival" after another, but oh, no, why make it easy for people?
I didn't even try to get in the small parking lot on the grounds; the huge one across the street was filled and so was one further down. I finally parked on the very busy side road, hoping I wouldn't get a ticket.  This was roughly a half-mile--I'm not exaggerating--from the inn and it was probably at least eighty degrees.  Trudged through mobs of people, about half children.
Now I enjoy seeing kiddies have a good time, but why in the hell do whole herds of dogs have to come, too?  Every size and breed seemed to be present; maybe they enjoy the Chianti?
Reached the inn and got to the room.  It was set up with four tables of eight, everybody was seated, and the priest was right in the middle of mass. Annoyingly, it must have started late.  Betty had saved me a seat and I sat through the rest of it.
Finally, it was over and I was able to circulate a bit.  Greeted with hugs and air kisses, Jeanne P., and her boyfriend, John, whom I had met in Atlantic City a few years ago.  I said I remembered him because he was a big stud, which tickled them pink. (John is 85.) Jeanne, pretty as ever--well, close--was certainly the most attractive woman in the room.
Sally Lange N., the eternal cheerleader and bossy know-it-all, told us not to leave the room to get a drink until the waitress took our orders. Jeanne and I defied her and went to the bar, where she got a fifteen-dollar glass of red wine and treated me to a dark Irish beer.
It was nice to see Pat Mooney, Barbara Cavalli, and John and Theresa Garrity, a couple who always seem sad and pathetic to me, although I don't know why.  Talked to Teddy and Al G., Betty D., and a few others, but really, the whole thing was a bit of a bore.   Joe Magosin and wife sat at our table, as did Pat Dwyer, and Toni Rich.  The Wimbergs were supposed to come, but didn't.
The food was mediocre--they almost always are at these affairs--and the service unenthusiastic.  Of course, the whole building was jammed, every single room filled with lunchers or drinkers, or whatevers, the bar crowded, festival goers outside and in--no wonder the wait staff was harried.
After, John made a pitch for donating to Holy Spirit, our alma mater, such as it is, and gave out HS magazines.  It's now been fifty years since the school moved to Absecon and, of course, it bears no resemblance to the place in the inlet we attended so long ago.
Those who went there do, though; I wonder if one ever escapes teenhood.  Yesterday's attendees looked ancient, but in a profound way, many don't seem to have changed.  They're still stuck in the fifties, adhering to conservative political--and especially, reverent Catholic-- ways. That's not necessarily a bad thing--diff'rent strokes and all that--but it's not for me.  After years of servitude to what I had been taught to believe, I broke away and can cry, "free at last, free at last, thank my own heart rebellious, I'm free at last!"
Aagh!  Good grief, Mimi--you have some nerve comparing your minor little deviation from the norm to MLK's historic declaration! So moving right along...
Betty called when I got home and we made a date to go to lunch today; I'll take Aline and she'll bring Helen.  I suggested we try the Pitney Tavern, and we'll meet there.
Got a Skype call from my Ellen and, as ever, had a good chat.  We discussed my move to the land of the locusts, in particular how I'd get there ("drive!", she sez; "NO!" sez I) and where I'll live when I do.
Popped my popcorn, poured my wine, watched a half hour on the telly, then went to bed and slept the sleep of the just.