Marksmen

Saturday night was Cas' high school reunion.  He went to St. Mark's, and from what I can gather, the young men who attend that school refer to themselves as Marksmen.  We arrived at a beautiful house and all of the members of the class to 1986 seemed really happy to see Cas.  They all had a chance to catch up, and the guys all went outside to take a group photo.  They came back for dinner, but wound up back outside again.  I took this photo at the end of the evening:

It's a weird picture, but kind of cool looking.  The house was beautiful, though a good deal more extravagant than I could ever see myself occupying.  Of course, we took a selfie.

It seemed like a genuinely nice group of people.  There were some I immediately liked and some I was less impressed with, but nobody seemed particularly bad.  They're just not the kind of folks I am used to.  They all had kids in private schools, which stands to reason, since they had all gone to the same one.  Some of them had kids in very expensive colleges.  The ones who brought dates had these tall-ish, slender, elegant women with them.  I felt like I was probably the only woman in the room who had been working steadily since the age of 16.  

I know it's strange to have a good time at someone else's reunion, but I kind of did.  I was glad to be with Cas.  It was probably good for his old friends to see him so happy.