A Late (Or Is it Early?) Ramble About My Sister

By now, regular readers know that Uncle P's sister is a baker. She has a side business making custom cakes, cookies and cupcakes for weddings, birthdays and various celebrations that require baked sweets as part of their rituals. She's gotten quite good, though even she will admit she's no Buddy Valastro. Still, she makes some delightful desserts for special occasions and her clients and co-workers love what she does.

Cakes and cookies non-withstanding, Uncle P's sister is also his best friend and one of the very few (if not the only) people who actually 'gets' him. Growing up, even though we were six years apart, we actually shared a "language" which to this day, no one else understands. It's no secret that one of us can utter a word, phrase or a series of nonsense syllables that will have the other writhing in hysterics to the dismay and utter consternation of those around us. Her husband and our mother still roll their eyes at one another when we get going.

Many years ago, my sister and her husband moved to western Florida. Since then, I've tried to visit at least once a year. We take day trips to Disney or Universal (my personal favorite theme park); loll about in the Gulf Coast sun; hit the outlet malls or dine at unusual places and generally act like the kids we never grew out of being when together. Occasionally, my sister will venture north, though she loathes the weather here and would rather our mother and I come South. Last year, due to any number if circumstances (including the extensive renovations required on Uncle P's house), I didn't make my annual visit.

This week, my sister is making a rare northern excursion to attend her 25th High School Reunion, While I am thrilled that she and I will get to spend some time together, I am also secretly hoping that she will get to experience the surreal kind of event that Uncle P had last year at his 30th.

Needless to say, I doubt her experience will be anything like this:

My sister is actually a successful executive at a major corporation, so there! Nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah! While I don't personally care what happens at the reunion, I'm just happy to be able to spend some time with my baby sister (and perhaps confound some folks with our unique relationship).

More, anon.

Prospero

P.S. Tonight, I actually realized how weird it is to refer to myself in the third person. I feel like a "Seinfeld" character... Is that a bad thing? Oh, and if you're wondering if she'll take offense at the pictures I've linked to my sister's references, I can assure you she'll say they just weren't weird enough....

P

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School Daze

Tonight, Uncle Prospero had one of the strangest, most surreal* and thoroughly enjoyable experiences of his life. Yes, I attended my 30th High School Reunion.

"Holy crap!" you might be saying. "Prospero is that old?" Yes, I am that old. Still, more people recognized me than I recognized, so I guess I'm doing okay.

I went to Woodrow Wilson High School, which has since been re-named Harry Truman High School, after the closure of my district's other high school in the 80's. I moved around a bit and lost touch with almost everyone from Wilson. But, with the advent of Facebook and similar social networking sites, I suddenly find myself reconnected to folks I haven't seen in 30 years. And it's wonderful.

I was, I will admit, a bit apprehensive about attending. I hadn't been to (nor was even aware of) any previous reunions, for any number of reasons. But thanks to Facebook, I was able to attend this one - and it was just terrific.

So much of who we are today is based on the relationships and experiences of our past. It was honestly wonderful to see so many friends from the past (and sad to not see those who couldn't attend). I recognized some folks immediately (my friends Nina and Holly virtually unchanged) and a few others after squinting at their name tag under the banquet hall's dim lights. One friend surprised me with what she thought was shocking news, while others surprised me with their rather unexceptional lives. And more than a few were absolutely unrecognizable, but out of a class of 400+, that's understandable.

Kudos to Debbie L and Suzanne B for organizing an outstanding evening.

Remember - there will be no Saturday post this week. Instead, read me on The Zombie Zone.

More, anon.
Prospero

*By the way, this is a link to my favorite painting of all time, by Salvador Dali. I have no idea why it means so much to me -- it just does. Dali is my favorite artist and The Discovery of America by Christopher Columbus speaks to me in a way few paintings can, even if I don't understand why. I hope you've experienced the same phenomenon, yourself.

P

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