The monk bought lunch

When I was back there in secondary school, there was a person there who put forth the proposition that — no, wait, no one ever propositioned me in those days.

The arithmetic doesn't lie, but still it seems impossible that I should pop open an envelope this afternoon and out comes this:

In a word, no. And I really ought to see if there's some way I can go to one of these reunions, if only to deal with the spectacle of a classmate celebrating Mass; somehow there's a disconnect between "Hey, Larry!" and "Good afternoon, Monsignor."

If the list is to be believed, and I see no reason why it shouldn't be, they've tracked at least 150 of us, out of a smidgen over 200. Not bad after three and a half decades. And at least I recognized three names (out of five) on the planning committee.