The glory days of high school

Pushing the envelope!

That “seemed” to be the theme of the day when my boon companions and I attempted to outmaneuver one another while reminiscing about the many daring exploits of our adventurous past.

Robert “Robbie” Brough and Robert “Mags” Magnifico were laughing it up when they began talking about how they tied several bed sheets together in an effort to escape the confines of their hotel room when the high school choir traveled all the way to the “Big Apple” to participate in a national competition at Radio City Music Hall during junior year.

Upon hearing that same old story for about the one hundredth time – insert big yawn here – over the past three plus decades, I chuckled to myself thinking about a well-guarded tale that had been kept under wraps since the glory days of high school.

If you think that was risky business, just wait until I tell you about the time my posse and I robbed an abandoned house over on the north side of town and hid our stolen plunder inside my garage attic clubhouse the summer before freshman year.

Watching their jaws drop to the floor was priceless!

I felt just like Goose in that cockpit with Maverick when he pushed their fighter jet to full throttle and sent them right into the “Danger Zone.”

Nothing could top the unsolicited admission of criminal behavior that spontaneously flowed from my lips in an uncontrollable manner!

With a local law enforcement officer sitting directly across from me, I was fully expecting Mags to remove a set of police issued handcuffs from his hip pocket and read me my Miranda rights before hauling me off to the pokey in the back of his patrol vehicle.

Lucky for me, the owner of the house in question declined to press any charges, not to mention the fact that the statute of limitations had long since passed.

Nevertheless, I was sweating bullets!

We were gathered together with a plethora of our former classmates at the Connoquenessing Country Club in Ellwood City, Pennsylvania, celebrating our thirty-fifth reunion for the “Class of 1984” from dear ol’ Lincoln High School.

There was definitely a nostalgic feeling from our glory days when we were the loudest table in the high school cafeteria; because everyone kept eyeballing our little band of merrymakers in the center of the elegant dining hall wondering what was causing all the fits of uninhibited laughter.

As soon as the invitations to our long-awaited social gathering were dispersed across the country, the friendly neighborhood crime fighter and his trusty sidekick – a language arts teacher at our high school alma mater – hounded me with numerous late-night emails, telephone calls and text messages until I finally committed to attending the once in a lifetime event.

It was reminiscent of the time they hassled me for well over a month before I ultimately gave in to their smooth-talking tactics and agreed to perform in our senior class musical – Hello, Dolly!

They always did resemble a certain pair of would-be mafia-style gangsters – Don Corleone and his most loyal henchman, Luca Brasi!

Since all my other invitations must have mysteriously disappeared in the “Dead Letter Office” with the rest of the undelivered mail, this would be the very first class reunion which I attended since graduating high school before the age of cellphones and social media.

Needless to say, I was on pins and needles!

After spending the better part of my adult life attempting to keep certain memories about high school in the rearview mirror, they all came flooding back – the good, the bad and the ugly – as soon as I drove my horseless carriage across the Koppel bridge which led to the main thoroughfare – Lawrence Avenue – of the mid-size industrial city situated on the county line.

However, all the unpleasant reminders of the past were thankfully forgotten the moment I laid eyes on my usual cohorts after spotting them seated at a small table inside Koehler Brewery Pub – the former Dom’s Grocery Store – where the fun times continued throughout the evening and spilled over into the next day at the country club venue.

Shortly after stepping from my compact hybrid sports car with rollator in hand, I quickly spotted Elaine DeCarbo – my first crush upon moving to town near the end of sixth grade – walking into the entrance of the privately owned club; and she was even more ravishing than the day I first laid eyes on her.

In addition, I had an opportunity to chew the fat with two more members of “The Little Band of Brothers” – Bruce Thalmann and Lee Winegar – during our short time together; but unfortunately, Steve Grossman was the only one of our number unable to attend the special occasion.

Of course, the reunion wouldn’t have been complete without the bell of the ball – our homecoming queen Valerie Perry – who looked as beautiful as the day she was crowned during the memorable football game’s halftime festivities at Helling Stadium so long ago.

At the conclusion of the two-hour celebratory reception, all of our former classmates gathered together for a group portrait to mark the noteworthy event as well as some hilarious candid photos with a few lighthearted props to round out the evening.

When we were heading to the parking lot at the close of the quinquennial event, my comrade with a blue uniform hanging in his bedroom closet informed me that he would be investigating all those cold cases dating back to our teenage years to see if any of the evidence pointed in my direction.

My eyes grew as big as saucers while thinking about several other undisclosed misadventures from my years as a criminal mastermind; so, I quickly jumped into my speedster and hightailed it out of town.