The Boys of 1973 Reunion
I suppose it was inevitable.
Groups of girls from the Red Wing High School class of 1973 had already had many get-togethers, including my classmate missus. It was now time for some of the boys I hung out with back then to get together.
Planning the get-together was started more than a year ago by classmate Bryce Anderson, who lives in Denver. Ever the organizer, he found a cabin to rent for a week on a lake just outside Crosslake. He even found a reasonably priced pontoon rental.
So, seven of us gathered at the cabin in late August for six days that included little event planning and no great expectations. But we will have our 45th class reunion in 2018 so we needed to be able to brag about something we had done. Anderson printed a few shirts that said “The Boys of 1973 2017 Summer Reunion”. For inspiration, it included a photo of a burning pontoon.
The cabin was awesome. It was really a house and could sleep eight. It had a convenient dock, firepit, and a lot of amenities, including a dishwasher, laundry, and even internet access. We were impressed. There was a grocery store, liquor store, and golf course so close you could almost see them if not for the trees. The lakes are all interconnected so we could float along on the pontoon for a long time before seeing the same shoreline twice. Thank God for GPS.
So, what do 62-year-old guys who rarely see each other anymore do when they get together for six days? They eat and drink beer, fish, golf, play cribbage, talk about maladies (ours and others’), brag about kids and grandkids, and list who has died. Three of us are already retired and the others can see the light at the end of the tunnel.
We made a token effort to eat properly at first. We had an orange lettuce salad from a recipe off the internet. It was light on sugar and cholesterol. That token effort was quickly displaced by the huge breakfasts we had – eggs, bacon, pancakes, butter, syrup, and toast. We were also supplied with food from a stop at Costco on the way up which included huge quantities of frozen burgers and chicken breasts. We nearly overdosed on protein.
In our younger years, we would not have survived six days together. We would probably have drowned, been arrested or killed each other. Minimally, we would have reserved that last whole day to repair broken windows and clean carpets. Through our reading glasses and bifocals, we viewed some old incriminating photos from our underage days that reminded us how lucky we are to have survived this long.
Now, three of the group either don’t drink or drink very little, and the others pretty much stuck to beer (light or craft beer). We did hit some bars along the chain of lakes but it was mid-week and late summer so partying was on the wane. It rained one whole day so we went to town and stopped at an antique store where rust is the main attraction. Some of us even read books now (on Kindles!). Our younger selves would be appalled.
I brought music on my iPad and we played it through a Bluetooth speaker out by the firepit where we listened to Ten Years After, the Who, Jethro Tull, and Alice Cooper. We managed to stay up past 8 pm every night – even midnight a couple times.
One stop we just had to make was Anderson’s old family cabin just up the road. It is still in the family and is affectionately known as Saglibom which is Mobilgas spelled backwards. There’s a well-worn story behind that.
By the end of the week, stories were getting repeated. The canoe and bean bag boards that were brought along went unused. A few fish were caught but nothing was kept. We bought no souvenirs, other than a rusty antique or two.
But what may seem dull was actually a good time. At our age, the goal is no longer to see who can party the most. It’s simply to spend some time with friends whose common bond was coming of age together before going our separate ways.
I was reminded just how valuable it is to know these Boys of 1973. That’s my souvenir.