Treason of Words

When I was young, before the idea of college, any real science, or even geography had appeared on the horizon, I wanted a job with a cool hat. In a way, I suppose, this was a symptom or manifestation of the general tenor of my early childhood. Aside from the cartoons I watched and underoos I wore, I could very well have been a 4 or 5 year old at any point in the previous 30 or so years, what with the stay-at-home mom and small town environment. In that era, it seems there were more jobs requiring hats. Flash forward a few decades, and hats are by and large gone. I wear one when I can get away with it, but it serves no functional purpose other than keeping the sun off my shaved pate, and does noting to identify me beyond branding me as a guy who likes to wear hats. With professional hats, it seems, have gone simple job descriptions, though. A colleague of mine aspires to be a fireman fire fighter ; I suspect he just wants a job that's easy to explain. What is it that I do? You know

The shindigs seem to have gone off without a hitch, or at least none that Shea let on about, excepting some guy closer to his 30-year reunion than our 10-year who decided to appropriate some hors d'oeuvres*, giving our hostess a case of l'esprit d'escalier* despite the distinct lack of escalier. Everyone looked great, and seemed to be fairing well. No doubt some of that is the result of gussying up and ego-shielding obfuscation, but on the balance we've done well for ourselves, with some interesting in-marriages and plenty of budding careers in the medical, financial and public sectors. *These word choices brought to you by the Committe to Promote the Pretentious Use of French For No Apparent Reason My favorite game of the night was guessing who was who before the name tags appeared. I think I did pretty well. Hair color and quantity varied quite a bit, as have some builds, but faces don't change much. What has changed, though, is me, it seems. Rick(y) Wright and I