On to Italy. . .

. . .but first a stop off at my 45th high school reunion last night. Unlike the 40th which was held out in King of Prussia, miles and miles from center city and Yeadon, this one was downtown at the Moshulu so I had no excuse to bag it. And, unlike the 40th which was our first reunion in 30 years so full of suprises--I swear I didn't recognize half the people there--last night's party was pretty low key and not so well attended. Maybe, it's the times, maybe it's our age, but people seemed very relaxed and genuinely glad to see each other. It's like everyone was thinking, "Whoa, we're still here, we don't look bad, life goes on."

The best part for me was the way some classmates remembered my parents. Joan Cantor remembered my mom as "the first modern woman" and thought of her as a role model. I felt flattered when she said that since I always thought my mom was very special. I don't even think my mom was back at school or working when I was in high school. Joan must have thought that because, unlike so many of my friends' mothers, my mom was slim and good looking and interested in things other than housekeeping.

Lee Malit, himself now a doctor, said he always considered my dad the ideal of what a doctor should be--totally professional, a good mix of the compassionate and the competent. He must not have been alone since so many of my friends and their families were patients of my dad.

When I was growing up in Yeadon, I often berated my parents for making what I considered the wrong choice in not settling somewhere more upscale and suburban. Cheltenham or Lower Merion, where most of my camp friends came from, seemed the ideal place to live. I couldn't wait to get of Yeadon once I graduated and boldly chose a college where I was sure my true intellectual nature would finally be appreciated. Once I was married, my parents, too, moved out and left Yeadon behind with no regrets as far as I could tell.

I keep saying that soon I'm going to take a drive out there, walk down my block, stroll past my friends' houses, my old elementary school, the high school, but I haven't been to Yeadon in 15 years. Maybe I should ride the 13 trolley again and walk all the way up Church Lane to our house, then knock on the door and ask to look around.

I don't think so. It's safer in my dreams.