As my wife of 42 years and I were checking our bags for our trip to the mini-reunion, a baggage handler asked me, "Where are you bound for, folks?" and when I replied, "San Antonio," he remarked, "Beautiful place, have you ever been there before?"

We had not, but, boy, were we glad we went. Four days of non-stop nonsense at the site of 13 fateful days in 1836. Dave & Barbara McLaughlin, Joe & Sally Nunnelee, Bill & Linda Daugherty, Bob & Gerri Ricks, Cal & Jan Johnson, and George & Sue Sarran made it all happen, willingly giving of their time before, during, and after the memorable Memorial Day Weekend activities. We owe them. We owe them big time.

First, we were issued our bling: engraved wine glasses, ’62 belt buckles,’62 crest Christmas tree ornaments, snappy black golf shirts (70% polyester, 30% cotton) with ’62 crest in color, and cuccis, lots of cuccis (don’t ask).

There was Mexican food, mariachis from the 5th US Army Band, and margaritas the first night. Friday was golf and tours that barely scratched the surface of this remarkable chunk of the USA. Friday night was a riot at the Buckhorn Saloon, the site of the largest collection of antlers and horns under one roof in the world. Western line dancing. Your scribe was asked to drop out; Bill Evans was named outstanding western line dancer. Later, some gathered at The Alibi, a boite owned by the son of Cal and Jan; that went on for a pretty long time, according to reports that have reached this desk.

Saturday was more golf, this time at the Ft. Sam Houston course, now the favorite course of the USMA Class of 1962. Just ask anyone who played. Boat cruise on Riverwalk, a block from our hotel, the historic Menger, and just the coolest place. Napping. Conversation in the lobby of the Menger. Jerry Janicke revealed his first-hand knowledge of the laser that SAIC has developed that can shoot missiles out of the sky. Ernie Webb spoke of the great demand for leadership training in corporate America and how his outfit, The Action Leadership Group, tries to meet that demand. Pretty darned interesting. Jim Harrington let slip that his name is on a plaque in the new baseball park in Denver, a tribute to his work on that project. Jack Rucker and Ken Herring traded medical histories over breakfast. Tom Herre planted a seed for like-minded baseball fans: a tour of some or all major league parks in a van with classmates. Roy Alcala gave us his perspective on Iraq based on the time he spent there recently. That pitch was high profile enough to get press coverage the next day, along with coverage of our mini-reunion itself, including a front-page photo of Bill & Jeane Scherr and Mary Dominy dabbing their eyes with handkerchieves at the memorial service. But E2 dominated the lobby conversational grouping, hogging the sofas for hours at a time, but graciously letting anyone join in by asking, "But that’s enough about E2. What about you? What do you think about E2?"

One topic of discussion was the notion that one can extend the effective radius of one’s keyless remote automatic car door locks and trunk by, get this, touching the device to one’s chin, thereby "using the body as an antenna." Your scribe ran 27 trials on two vehicles back in Peachtree City and was able only once to open car doors at a greater distance (five feet) by using this ridiculous technique. Let’s hear no more about it.

We toured The Alamo early Sunday, showing proper decorum and reverence, and then held our brief memorial service for our classmates who have gone on before us. Oh, The Alamo is across the street from the Menger! The Imax movie on The Siege of the Alamo; wonderful. Trip to Brooke Army Medical Center to visit with wounded from Iraq. The soldiers were grateful for the phone cards and impressed by the thoughtfulness. Farewell dinner on Sunday night. A visit from Aflac, the Magnificent, and the straight man’s straight man, Fred Bothwell, life member of BATS, the Bavarian Alpine Touring Society. (They ride motorcycles.) A dazzling performance by Ray Pendleton; the man could sell worthless old beat up cadet shoe boxes to the Class of ’62. That’s what he did, of course, somehow getting Joe Szwarckop to cough up $300 for The Box. So the legend of The Box grows. You can read that legend on our class website. Gus Fishburne informed us that our 45th reunion will be the last one to be held in the fall, all subsequent ones scheduled during what we wistfully recall as "June Week." Karen Kirschenbauer added that, since by then none of us will be able to "stand or sit upright for 30 minutes," none of us will be on Fosomax. Bob Ricks, the last man standing, has kept up on what’s happening with the US army behind the scenes; the many field artillerymen present were stunned by his pitch, and headed white-faced for the bar. Diane Middaugh told a great story. Your scribe made a note on a napkin: "bra." But he cannot recall the story. One classmate whose name will not be revealed in these pages we believe played four rounds of golf during the mini. Hint: he has an unusual hair style.

Then, suddenly it was over and we returned to the strange, mournful mutter of our everyday lives.