Anne Leigh Parrish Writer

Our Reunion Organizer

I recently did something I’ve never done before.  I went to a class reunion.  Not my class, however.  My husband’s law school class.  He graduated twenty-five years ago.  The reunion was held at the law school he attended.  The school was hosting a number of reunions for people who graduated five years ago, ten, fifteen, twenty, even thirty years ago.  Alumni were grouped by year, and assigned a specific room to eat in.  The more recent graduates were seated at a long table in the building’s glass-walled foyer.  It’s a new building, replacing the one my husband had classes in, which was a hideous concrete high-rise.  The new building is elegant and graceful, with a courtyard and stone floors.  Other years were given small rooms with a round table and lit candles which I found very pretty.  Our room was a lecture hall.  We sat where students sit, in tiers, facing a white board.  The lighting was harsh.  The room was ugly.  The tablecloths were silly – who puts tablecloths in a lecture hall?  The one floral arrangement, set at a corner of the first row tier, didn’t little to make the atmosphere elegant, or remotely festive.  What annoyed us both was having to pay fifty-five dollars each to attend.  For one hundred and ten bucks, I didn’t want to eat in a lecture hall.  The servers kept the wine coming, for which I was grateful.  And the food was decent.  And my husband got to see how well, or badly, his fellows had aged in a quarter century.  We spent a little over and hour, and then fled.  I’ll say this – everyone there looked prosperous and successful, which I suppose is what law school is all about.  And I know the school itself would like people to open their checkbooks and be generous.  Which we might have been inclined to do, if we hadn’t had second-rate dinner in a classroom.  What were they thinking?  Maybe we’ll go back for my husband’s thirtieth.  Any one care to bet on the likelihood of that?