I should have known something was up when for my 38th birthday this year, I went out and bought myself a tanning package and started coloring the gray in my hair. Throw in a convertible sports car and an affair with my secretary, and it would have been a bona fide mid-life crisis. Thankfully I haven’t quite reached that point; the reason, I know now, for my sudden agita over my physical appearance was instead the rapid approach of my 20-year high school reunion.

The Oxford Academy Blackhawks Class of ‘86 whooped it up in style last Saturday night at the American Legion in Norwich. And while I spent the weeks before stressing that I no longer wear a size 30 waist, I lost sight of the fact that time had marched on not just for me, but for the rest of class as well.

Although there was plenty of male-pattern baldness and expanded waistlines to go around, I’d say all in all that we’ve aged pretty damn well. It’s amazing how the passage of two decades can be swept away in an instant, and all those familiar high school associations, good and bad, come rushing back.

Every summer I end up putting about a dozen class reunion photos on our Community page, and I always look at each one as I’m typing in the names for the cutline and think, “What could these people possibly still have in common?”

It’s funny the things that bind us together as humans. While familial ties, work relationships, religious beliefs and neighborhood proximities are the more logical affiliations, the high school class has always seemed, to me anyway, like more of a stretch. Think about it, what else do you have in common with these people besides having the same school name printed on your diploma? You didn’t really seek them out as friends, there were no common interests to draw you together ... you were all simply lumped together in the same kindergarten class because your parents happened to live in the same school district.