I’ve never posted before on Ephblog, and I wasn’t planning to begin now. However, the combination of missing our scheduled meeting Saturday morning (Paula Moore Tabor ‘76 grabbed me and shepherded me, lovingly, to the 2003 section when I was walking towards the balcony) and seeing as my return to ephblog from the ephoric (yes, I know, terrible pun) heights of reunions a couple of posts about the Iraq War and questioning each others patriotism (that’s what we do at ephblog now? really?) either directly or in vague insinuations, I decided it was my duty to try to change the tenor of the conversation.

First, it was  HOT this weekend all over the East Coast, and Williamstown was no exception. That meant little to the fun of reunions, except, perhaps for explaining the absurd number of alumni and children swarming the free gelato stand whenever it was open. Swarming, truly, is the only adequate term for it. 

Seeing campus again was a wonderful treat and I’m still somewhat overwhelmed by the mixed feelings I had–the joy of seeing so many great friends again and how most of us seem to have found a good path only 5 years out of college was coupled with the return of some of those pathetic freshman insecurities I had thought I had fully outgrown (will I be cool enough? Who will remember me?). It was, however, overall a truly wonderful weekend.

A couple stories to get it started may help. In the small world category, one of my hallmates freshman year is now teaching in public school outside of NYC and mentioned the reunion to one of his fellow teachers, who happens to have been my high school mentor way back when he taught in Princeton before moving. So, if they happen to find ephblog, Austin and Mr. Heyman, hi! 

In the “Morty’s not just our President, he’s a bad-ass” category, Morty promised me we’d share a beer the Saturday night with the massive open bar. Unfortunately, the fifth year reunion was somewhat…impatient…with our consumption and by the time Morty made it over to our reunion (around 10 pm), we were out of beer. Fortunately, someone found him an unopened (but warm) can of PBR. So picture Morty with a rotating group of 5 or 6 26-27 year olds all of us just off of a three hour open bar and him politely and kindly holding a warm can of PBR. In thirty minutes of talking, I didnt see him sip from it once, but I still give him credit for it. 

Finally, in the “why do I get myself into these things”, while David might not have met me, he probably got a good look at me at the alumni meeting. When the class of 2003 (03! 03! 03!) won the attendance award (I know, not surprising at all), no class officer was in attendance at the meeting (d’oh). So while every alumni waited patiently for someone–ANYONE–to step up and accept the award so we could move on to more interesting stuff, no one in our class knew what to do. Enter my stupid/brave/slighty hungover self. Jumping over classmates, I raced to the stage, got the cup and then thought “wait, what do I do now?” Kindly, our Alumni President in one of his last acts of his presidency was polite enough to whisper to me “now bring it back”. Unfortunately, with my coffee still struggling to kick in, I didn’t realize where “back” was. Thinking that it meant back to where the cup had been (on the far side of the stage) before I saved my class the embarrassment of not picking up its one and only award (curse you 2004 for your high giving rates!), I took a couple hesitant steps towards the other side of the stage before being (again, very politely) told “no, back to your class”. Now somewhat red with embarrassment, I turned, faced the crowd and raised the cup before retreating back to our section with the biggest darn bowl I’d ever seen.

So David, and anyone else who was at reunions, that confused guy from the class of 2003 in the brown shirt? That’s me!