Sept Luncheon

September Luncheon: Remembering,

Forgetting, and Everything in Between

On yet another fall weekend, the indomitable Custer classmates gathered for our annual fall luncheon—doing what we do best: renewing old friendships, retelling stories that get better with age, and comparing notes on the latest indignities our bodies have decided to spring on us. (Medicare should really sponsor these events.) The remembering of classmates no longer with us happened quietly, in the ebb and flow of individual conversations—woven into the laughter and memories that filled the room.

Of course, it wasn’t all reflection. We kept busy with games that reminded us of two things: (1) our long-term memory is holding up just fine, thank you very much, and (2) none of us has a clue where the car keys are.

John Leopold shared an original song he had written—reflecting on aging and past friendships. It was heartfelt, meaningful, and struck a chord with everyone in the room.

The Games We Played (and the Suspicions They Raised)
The “Smiles Game” brought out both bragging rights and suspicion. One table swore they nailed all 20, though whispers of cell phones, Google, and maybe even artificial intelligence suggested otherwise. Another table barely managed a handful, their performance perhaps explained by the suspicious number of empty glasses in front of them. A third group seemed to lose track of time altogether—possibly more focused on sorting prescription meds than celebrity teeth.

“Advertising Bingo” followed, proving that most of us can still belt out the entire Ipana toothpaste jingle with Bucky Beaver, but can’t quite figure out how to silence our phones. Progress is a funny thing.

Friday Fun
The weekend kicked off the day before with a round of golf, followed by a spirited game of Sheepshead at an Irish pub—thanks to classmates traveling in from Florida, California, and Texas. It was a lively warm-up to the main event.

Closing Thoughts
All in all, the weekend reminded us that while our knees may creak and our memories sometimes stall, the laughter, friendship, and spirit of our class remain remarkably intact. And if we can keep remembering song lyrics and toothpaste jingles from the 1950s, there’s hope we’ll eventually remember where we parked.