Reunions

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Attended my first high school reunion last night — of Atholten High School, Simpsonville Md. Actually it was the thirtyfirst reunion, it was just that this was the first one I made it to. For some reason two songs come to mind about the event, one is “Against the Wind” and the other is “Garden Party.” I saw a lot of people I hadn’t seen in years. Didn’t see some I’d like to have seen, and came away satisfied that reunions were probably enough to satisfy my concerns for their well-being and progress. My Then-Closest friends all had such a miserable time in high school that they refused to show. I can understand how they feel.

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The essential problem with societies, is that “classes” are a natural result of the need for societies to organize themselves and the resulting social pecking order. It is said that if you observe most wild, but social animals, you will see a pecking order develop. Thus “classes” emerge naturally from any association of human beings, as anyone who endured American High School or works for another person, will remember from experience. These are “natural” classes, and no Marxist is ever going to do away with them.
Indeed my critique of Marxism started with the obvious observation that no Marxist society ever did away with classes. They may have tried to kill all their “beourgeous” but in the process they inevitably allowed others to step in and take their place. This led to the awful result of most Communist societies developing quickly a very dark darkside as first an intelligentsia and ideological class developed, and then it was “eaten up” by people who were “posing” to play the game and get ahead. Thus the “Communist Party” in every case has become a class even more oppressive of workers than ever the Owner class was.

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I knew you when you were somebody,
Yes I knew you then.
I knew you when you were smiling,
I wish I knew you again.
Where are you now? Where did you go?
The house still stands but it’s not a home.
I knew you when you were precious.
Precious as a diamond stone.
I thought that the diamond cutter
would leave your heart alone.
Where are you now? Where did you go?
I hear you are broken, why can’t you be whole?
Something of you is precious to me,
a fading memory, an empty grave.
I cannot find you anywhere,
except in my prayers.
Come back to me, please? The past is broken.
But the future doesn’t have to weigh like a stone.
Like two diamonds made from one.
In my heart you will always have a home.
Chris