50TH REUNION

Fifty years ago we walked across that stage, shook a hand, took a diploma, and figured we had the world about half licked. We were farm kids from a town most maps had to squint at, but we had each other, we had Friday nights under the lights, and we believed nothing about any of it would ever change.

Well. A few things changed. These days the roll call includes some new knees, at least a couple of hips, and more reading glasses than a Sunday school class. Half of us groan louder sitting down than we ever did running two-a-days in August. But put this bunch in one room and something happens — the years fall right off, and we’re laughing about the same dumb stunts we swore our parents would never find out about. Most of them never did, and we intend to keep it that way.

So come home. Come laugh about what aches now and what we got away with then. The lights will be on, the smoker will be going, and the Lions will all be in one place again for a whole weekend. Fifty years earned us that.