Pawing Through the Past

The huge ceiling fan lazily swirled overhead, vainly attempting to move the soggy August air. Mary Minor Haristeen, Harry to her friendsand everyone was a friendscribbled ideas on a yellow legal pad. Seated around the kitchen table, high-school yearbooks open, were Susan Tucker, her best friend, Mrs. Miranda Hogendobber, her coworker and good friend, and Chris Sharpton, an attractive woman new to the area. "We could have had this meeting at the post office," Susan remarked as she wiped the sweat from her forehead. "Government property," Miranda said. "Right, government property paid for with my taxes," Susan laughed. Harry, the postmistress in tiny Crozet, Virginia, said, "Okay, it is air-conditioned but think how many hours Miranda and I spend in that place. I have no desire to hang out there in my free time." "You've got air-conditioning at your house." Miranda stared at Susan. "I know but the kids are having a pool party and" "You left the house with a party in progress? There won't be a drop of liquor left," Harry interrupted. "My kids know when to stop." "Congratulations," Harry taunted her. "That doesn't mean anyone else's kids know when to stop. I hope you locked the bar." "Ned is there." Susan returned to the opened yearbook, the conversation clearly over. Her husband could handle any crisis. "You could have said that in the first place." Harry opened her yearbook to the same page. "Why? It's more fun to listen to you tell me what to do." "Oh." Harry sheepishly bent over the yearbook photo of one of her senior superlatives, Most Likely to Succeed. "I can't believe I looked like that." "You look exactly the same. Exactly." Miranda pulled Harry's yearbook to her. "Don't compliment her, it will go to her head." Susan turned to Chris. "Are you sorry you volunteered to help us?" "No, but I don't see as I'm doing much good." The newcomer smiled, her hand on her own high-school yearbook. "All right. Down to business." Harry straightened her shoulders. "I'm in charge of special categories for our twentieth high-school reunion. BoomBoom Craycroft, our fearless leader"Harry said this with a tinge of sarcasm about the head of the reunion"is going to reshoot photographs of our senior superlatives with us as we are today. My job is to come up with other things to do with people who weren't senior superlatives. "That's only fair. I mean, there are only twelve senior superlatives, one male, one female. That's twenty people out of one hundred and thirty-two, give or take a few, since some of us were voted more than one superlative." Harry paused for a breath. "How many were in your class, Miranda?" "Fifty-six. Forty-two are still alive, although some of us might be on respirators. My task for my reunion is easier." Miranda giggled, her hand resting on the worn cover of her 1950 yearbook. "You all were so lucky to go to small high schools. Mine was a consolidated. Huge," Chris remarked, and indeed her yearbook bore witness to the fact, being three times fatter than that of Harry and Susan or Mrs. Hogendobber. Susan agreed. "I guess we were lucky but we didn't know it at the time." "Does anyone?" Harry tapped her yellow wooden pencil against the back of her left wrist. "Probably not. Not when you're young. What fun we had." Miranda, a widow, nodded her head, jammed with happy memories. "Okay, here's what I've got. Ready?" They nodded in assent so Harry began reading, "These are categories to try and include others: Most DisBrown, Rita Mae is the author of 'Pawing Through the Past' with ISBN 9780553107388 and ISBN 0553107380.