The College Reunion



  The College Reunion

  A Sign of the Times

  Copyright G. J. Irrera 2005

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  The College Reunion

  I know that you are expecting another mystery and this story does have a bit of a mystery to it but it is more about revenge and a forty-year-old wrong made right. This is also, in a roundabout way, a love story that I thought you might like it.

  My Uncle Carl, actually he’s my dad’s uncle, lives just down the street from our house and he is one of the funniest people I have ever met. He’s a couple of years older than my grandfather, but sometime he acts younger than me. His motto is Grow old but never grow up; and he has stayed true to that motto for as long as I have known him.

  He is now and has always been a bachelor; he once told me that he never met a woman that could put up with him. I once heard my Granddad say that there was only one girl in Uncle Carl’s life, but when I asked him about her, he quickly changed the subject.

  Everyone in the neighborhood knows that Carl Phillips can tell some of the wildest stories they ever heard; but they also know that it is all in fun.

  Whenever he finishes one of his tall tales, and he suspects that someone might question the truth to his tale he always closes with his signature ending. He will make a cross over his heart with his right hand and then hold it up as if he is going to take an oath and says, “Cross my heart and hope to spit”. Everyone usually has a good laugh, but not as big, a laugh as Uncle Carl, especially when someone actually believes the story.

  Although he sometimes acts a bit goofy, he is very smart; he graduated from Drexel University's College of Engineering, with a degree in Mechanical Engineering while carrying a 3.9 GPA. He spent most of his life in the Air Force as a pilot and later as a Squadron Commander. He retired and moved back home back to Philadelphia in 1999.

  A few weeks ago, Uncle Carl’s College, Class of 1969, held its 40th Class Reunion; people came from all over the United States. Uncle Carl told me later that it was like going to a funeral, the only thing missing was the corpus.

  He said that the ballroom of the hotel was filled with a bunch of old goats in tuxedos and evening gowns pretending that they were having a good time, but by ten o’clock most of them were ready to go home, get a nice glass of warm milk and go to bed.

  After the official Class Reunion, Uncle Carl held his own little party with a backyard cookout; he left a small sign on the door to the ballroom telling everyone that they were all invited to his house for what he called the ‘Class Reunion Part 2’.

  He knew that most of the people at the reunion wouldn’t come, which was fine since he really only wanted a select few at his party anyway.

  He also invited my family and a few other families from the neighborhood even though most of them weren’t even born in 1969. Uncle Carl says that it is always good to invite the next-door neighbors that way they can’t complain about the loud music.

  Uncle Carl introduced me to his old gang, which included Bob and Ester Thompson, Joe and Barbara Turner, Matt and Joan Hawkins and Sam and Judy Morgan. They all showed up in their wildest Hawaiian print shirts and ready for some real fun. “I am so glad to get out of the tuxedo”, Sam Morgan said, “It made me look like a head waiter”.

  Bob Thompson wore a cowboy hat and a western style belt buckle that was about the size of a dinner plate.

  Everyone got a big laugh out of his get up since, according to Uncle Carl, the farthest west Bob had ever been in his whole life, not counting West Berlin in the early seventies, was Pittsburg.

  “Who were all those old people at the reunion”, Joe Turner said, “They couldn’t have gone to school with us”.

  “That little hussy Gloria Miller was giving you the eye all night”, Barbara Turner told her husband pretending to be annoyed. She emphasized her annoyance with an elbow to her husband’s ribs.

  “It’s hard to believe that she was the most popular girl in the school”, Bob Thompson said, “She must have had at least three coats of make-up on. Do you think she used a make-up brush or a paint brush”?

  “I remember someone back then that thought she was really something else”, Ester Thompson said looking at her husband.

  “She still is something else”, Bob Thompson said, “I’m just not sure what that might be”.

  “Well what about George Hunter, the guy voted the most handsome and most likely to succeed and the one that all of you girls were so infatuated with”, Matt Hawkins said, “You would get in a whole week’s worth of exercise just walking around him”.

  “And what about that toupee”, Joe Turner said.

  “Toupee”, Sam Morgan said, “I thought he had a dead rat on his head, I was just too polite to say anything”.

  “Let’s just forget about that bunch of party poopers”, Joe Turner said, “this is the real party”.

  It didn’t take long for Uncle Carl to get a crowd around him all listening intently to one of his stories. As soon as someone made any type of remark doubting the truth of his story, Uncle Carl would raise his hand and state, with a straight face, “Cross my heart and hope to spit”.

  “I thought you were supposed to say something like May I be struck by lightning”, Bob Thompson said.

  Uncle Carl shook his head, “Nothing doing”, He said, “I don’t want to push my luck at my age. The man upstairs might be listening”.

  The party was going great; Daddy was taking a turn at the grill to make sure the steaks didn’t burn to give Uncle Carl some time with his friends. Mom had taken on the role of hostess and was greeting everyone when they entered the backyard. She was also keeping an eye on Daddy. There are a lot of things that my Dad is very good at but cooking isn’t one of them.

  Mrs. Morgan and Mrs. Turner were telling me a story about how Uncle Carl and the gang were almost expelled because of a prank they pulled. They took Wendell Hapsboro’s car apart and reassembled it in the girl’s locker room.

  Mrs. Turner was about to say something but was interrupted; “Oh my goodness”, Mrs. Morgan said, “It’s Becky-Jo”.

  “I wonder if Carl knew she was coming”, Mrs. Turner said.

  “Are you kidding”, Mrs. Morgan said, “If Carl thought she would be here he would have been standing by the back gate all evening”.

  Mrs. Becky-Jo Roberts, the Home Coming Queen and Uncle Carl’s secret love, arrived at the gate to the backyard. Mom greeted her and I saw her point to where Uncle Carl was sitting. He had his back turned so he didn’t see Becky-Jo’s arrival.

  Mrs. Roberts stood there listening to Uncle Carl story, and smiled, “Now that’s not exactly how I remember it”, She said.

  Uncle Carl turned around to see who doubted the truth of his tall tale and was about to do his cross your heart thing when he realized who was speaking.

  You could tell Uncle Carl was very glad to see Mrs. Roberts; she had gotten to the Class Reunion very late and Uncle Carl and his friends had already left. “I saw the sign you put up at the hotel’s ball room”, she said.

  “My sign”, Uncle Carl said with an unusual tremor in his voice.

  “The sign telling everyone to come over here for the cookout”, Becky-Jo said, “I wouldn’t want to miss a chance to see this bun
ch of elderly delinquents again”.

  Everyone was glad to see Mrs. Roberts and after a bunch of hugging and kissing; Uncle Carl escorted Becky-Jo to a bench over by the rose bushes and didn’t even finish his story.

  There was definitely something between these two, something that had lasted since College; it had to be serious because Uncle Carl never left a story unfinished.

  “I’ve thought of you often”, Uncle Carl said, “and I always wondered what ever happened to you after College”.

  “Well I got married to Fred Roberts in nineteen-seventy three and divorced him in nineteen-eighty three”, Mrs. Roberts said, “What about you, is there a Mrs. Phillips”?

  “No, I guess I just never found anyone who could put up with me; I put in twenty-five years in the Air Force”, Uncle Carl said, “I did a lot of traveling”.

  Uncle Carl seemed to be nervous and was having a hard time finding the right words to say. “This is the first time I have ever seen Uncle Carl at a loss for words”, I told Mrs. Morgan.

  “Well naturally”, Mrs. Judy Morgan said, “That’s the former Miss. Becky-Jo Taylor. She turned and started to walk away.

  “Now hold on”, I said, “You can’t drop a bomb like that and walk away. Who is Miss. Becky-Jo Taylor?

  Mrs. Judy Morgan and