LITTLE ROBBY'S COMING HOME

The flight is booked, the car is reserved, and I've even already figured out where I'm sleeping the first night. It's time for the Class of '71 to reunite.

Last year (back when you weren't reading this blog, and don't think I didn't notice) a few very industrious people -- using that newfangled Internet thingie -- began tracking down the 1971 sixth grade class of Theodore Roosevelt School #43 in Rochester, New York. Because I am Famous, they quickly found me. In fact, they quickly found almost every one of the 'kids.' (I suppose fame must run in the class.)

Anyway, a Yahoo group was set up, and we've spent the past year getting reacquainted, and reminiscing about those two years in which we were pulled out of the mainstream for a gifted and talented program, before being mainstreamed again in 7th Grade in an apparent effort by the Rochester City School District to make sure that all potential was beaten out of us. Some of us went through high school together, and I was still in touch with at least one classmate for a while after that, but most of us haven't seen each other in 33 years. Over 12,000 days. A long, long, looooooong time.

But on Saturday night, the Class of '71 will meet again, face-to-face. We're literally coming from all over the United States. Boston will be in the house, as will Bellingham, Washington. Tennesee. California. And, yes, Manhattan. Even our sixth grade teacher (tracked down in retirement outside Buffalo) will be present.

This should be fascinating. We generally know what to expect -- yes, many of them have read my books, and some of them even read this blog, so no making fun of our pre-pubescent fashion sense! -- but you never know what the mix will be like until you're actually in the same room together.

Since I'm way overdue to a family visit, I'll also take the opportunity to grab some quality time with Dad and wife, Mom, Sis, and neglected friends and co-workers.

Oh yeah: and drinking. You can do that there, too.