High School Reunion

We got up on Thursday, August 1st, at the absolutely unheard of hour of 6 AM to finish last minute packing, and get the poor dog to the vet when they opened at 7:30 to board. Blazer spent the entire time I was in Williamsburg staring at the door, willing me to come home, and followed me – literally dogging my steps – all day Tuesday and Wednesday, so I really felt awful going off and leaving him again.

We stopped at the Youngest Kid’s house for an hour on the way down, and arrived at The Squire’s sister’s home about 8:00 that night.  It always “wonders me”, as my Amish friends say, that the more spectacular the natural scenery, the more likely humans are to clutter it up with tumbledown houses and rusty cars. Verrry mysterious. But true.

This was The Squire’s 50th reunion, and it was wonderful. He went to school with the nicest bunch of people! We had dinner Friday evening at Sid’s on Main Street, in Canton, NC. I highly recommend it, if you are ever down that way. Saturday afternoon we went out Pisgah Creek for a picnic, and again had a grand time, just chatting and catching up. The class has a reunion every five years, and spouses are always welcome, so I know a fair number of folks, and it’s just nice to visit.

Went to St. Andrew’s on Sunday morning, and were warmly welcomed. (We’ve been to some churches where that is not the case.) One woman came over to The Squire during the coffee hour and introduced herself, and asked what brought us to “this corner of the world”. Turns out she had also gone to the same high school and was the sister of one of The Squire’s classmates. Gosh, we might was well have been in Baltimore!

Yesterday, we drove to Newport, Tennessee and took The Squire’s youngest sister to lunch, and then came over to stay with the rector of the local church and his wife. We’ve known them since the year after we got married, so we are all practically family. Had a nice French-style  supper – cheese, fresh fruit and veggies,  crackers, bread, and wine. Fell into bed and slept like rocks. Even The Squire was still, and he generally sleeps like a windmill.