Paco's Class Reunion

I have an announcement to make: Paco is officially Old. As in, Old with a capital O. Because I've now been to my 30-year high school reunion, held on Friday night at Bountiful High School.

I've been to every class reunion I've been invited to: 5, 10, 20, and now 30 years. But this year's was my favorite, because I (finally!) didn't have to go all by myself. I got to take JB along with me and introduce her to a number of classmates and friends.

Besides those with whom I'm in semi-regular contact (Pepe and Darren among them), I got to see other people I hadn't seen since the last reunion 10 years ago and still others whom I'd not seen since the 10-year reunion or graduation. Among those people was the "Paquita" to my "Paco," a classmate of mine for all three years of high school Spanish; my sixth-grade crush from elementary school; and my senior prom date, who fortunately will still speak to me in public.

In summation of what I learned from seeing these old friends, let me just say this: Many if not most of the women look just about the same as they did in high school, while many of the men look noticeably balder/grayer and/or heavier. (I'm not above pandering; men have nothing I want.)

In addition, we got to tour the remodeled entryway to the school and cafeteria. We also got to go into the old fallout shelter, which I hadn't been to since my Driver's Ed class. And as for the old "smoking" Indian in the foyer? He now holds an actual arrow rather than what used to appear to be a cigarette. (If that last part makes no sense whatsoever, then ask me about it in person sometime.)

It was great to be with the Braves (not Red Hawks) of yesteryear for a few hours. I hope it's not another 10 years before I get to see them again.

Surprise Birthday Party

I had another birthday this weekend. In spite of my best efforts, they keep happening each year. Such is life.

Anyhow, my wonderful wife organized a surprise party for me when I returned home from work Friday night. She had invited my mom and siblings and their spouses over for a karaoke party, something I've wanted to do since the Karaoke Cafe closed a few years ago (the place where my birthday parties used to be held, and also, not coincidentally, the site of JB's and my first date).

In addition to inviting the guests and providing the refreshments, JB also baked us a chocolate and peanut butter cake for everyone to enjoy together (one of my favorite creations of hers).

I got to spend the rest of the weekend being instructed by the living prophets, seers, and revelators of the Church at another amazing general conference. Earlier today, we went out to Grantsville to watch the Sunday afternoon session with JB's parents and some of her siblings/niblings, for which she made us even more cake.

I'm enormously blessed with great people in my life, and as cruddy as the year 2020 has been, I'm looking forward to what the next year may bring.

Out and A-boot

One of the fun things about getting older is that muscles and bones start to ache randomly. Such as the peroneal tendon in my left foot. (Don't know what that is? Neither did I.)

As a result, I get to wear this lovely boot for the next few weeks, which makes me look as if I'm about to administer corporal punishment in some far-off country.

Point of No Return

How do you know you're getting old? You have another birthday. Or you just take a look at your digital watch, if you still have one of those antiquated devices from the 20th century. Watch the seconds tick on it. As each second passes, you're getting a second older.

You're getting older as you read these very words. No need to thank me!

There's another, more direct way to realize just you how old you're getting: Go and see your doctor, and he or she will tell you why all of your aches and pains mean you're aging much faster than you might think.

I recently visited my gastroenterologist, aka the tummy doctor, because I've had stomach and digestive issues nearly non-stop since living and working in South America for two years. If you catch my drift.

The good doc mentioned some dirty words, including: the "C" word ("colonoscopy") and the "F" word ("fiber").

Growing up, I would see commercials that mentioned nasty terms like these on TV, and they usually appeared in connection with products aimed at those who were old. Like old old.

Over age 30, at the time, is what I thought old was and would be, but that day was at least seven or eight decades away, even though mathematically it wasn't. Summers also lasted a lot longer then, too.

Was this anything like childhood for you?

Anyhow, the aforementioned doctor counseled me to make both fiber and probiotics a part of my daily diet. So, I've been doing that for a while now, and admittedly it has helped things a great deal. It has also helped me realize one important fact:

I've passed the point of no return.

"Come what may and love it," taught Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin. You mean, even getting older?

Yes, I think he meant that, too. Especially that.

Testifying with Lovin'

My mind can be much more like a sieve than a steel trap sometimes. Countless hours of "Simpsons" quotes, video games, "Weird Al" songs, and more all crammed in my noggin are probably to thank for it.

Nevertheless, I rarely, if ever, forget a face. I do not always remember names (though most of the time I do), but I almost always recognize faces, even when I haven't seen them for many years.

Last Sunday, it was Fast Sunday on the Island of Misfit Toys. That, of course, meant fast and testimony meeting. Rather unexpectedly, a familiar face stepped up to the podium to bear her testimony. It was one of the people I least expected to see there.

It had been more than 20 years since I last saw this person. Yes, folks, I am old enough to remember people from over two decades in my past. My knees frequently remind me of that fact. I'm not really the baby-faced young lad you might surmise to be 23 or 24.

At age 16, I started my first job (one that was not delivering newspapers or selling concessions at Utah Jazz games, anyway) working at (where else?) McDonald's in Centerville. That is how and when I first met this person. We did not get along all that well, from what I recall. I heard more than a few curse words escape from this person's mouth, and she also smoked.

Back to last week's testimony meeting: This same person stepped up to the pulpit, professing her belief in Christ and in the Atonement and stating that she knew she is a daughter of God. In the years since I had last seen her, her entire countenance had completely changed. With her testimony, she strengthened mine.

Like I said, it was the last person I expected to see. It's strange how people you never expect to see again, people who made cameos once upon a time, can suddenly reappear in your life. It's truly amazing what time can do and to witness the enormous capacity of people to change their lives. The gospel is a marvelous thing, isn't it?