I missed the 45th reunion of my Highline High Class of 1965 last week. It was a low-key affair at Lake Burien School Park held during a Music in the Parks concert.

But our big 5-0 reunion is lurking in five years.

Among other 50th festivities planned by the Highline Class of 1960 this year is a seven-day cruise to Alaska.

Be honest. How many of those people you went to high school with a half-century ago would you want to be stuck on a boat with for a week?

While off on vacation this week to the Oregon Coast with Marge's New York relatives, I'll leave you with this column I wrote five years ago describing my 40th reunion. It was one of three columns I submitted when I received the best humor column-writing award in a state community newspaper contest.

The column is a bit dated. For one thing, we've moved from 153rd. And the idea that the Cougar football team could be three touchdowns ahead of UCLA in the first half seems a little far-fetched now.

"I'm sick. I think I have a fever," I whined.

Marge handed me the thermometer and left the room.

I immediately thrust it up next to a hot light bulb.

"What are you doing?" Marge demanded as she unexpectantly reentered the room.

"I don't want to go to school," I whined again pitifully.

"It's not school. It's your 40th Highline High School reunion. Now, what's the problem?"

"I'm nearly bald, I'm wrinkled and I weigh 60 pounds more than when I graduated," I replied.

"I've seen your high-school graduation picture with those big black-rimmed Goldwater glasses and geeky crew cut. Trust me, you look a whole lot better now."

"But I'll never remember all those people, especially after 40 years. My senior class had 800 kids in it."

"Do what you always did before a school test-- cram. Here's your old annuals; start memorizing."

"But I want to watch the WSU football game. They're upsetting 12th-ranked UCLA by 21 points in the first half. It's going to be a blowout."

"You can tape the second half and watch it when you get back."

"I don't know what to wear. All I know about reunions, I learned at the movies. Hey, you could put on a sparkly dress like Romy and Michele. I'll wear all black like John Cusack in "Grosse Pointe Blank."

"I'm not wearing a sparkly dress and remember John Cusack was a professional assassin in that movie. We'll find something appropriate."

So off we went to the Cove in Normandy Park for my reunion.

"This can't be the right place," I grumbled. "It looks like an AARP convention."

But as we approached the outside of the building, we saw shivering bodies huddled in the cold smoking cigarettes.

"Yep, I remember that. This is the Class of '65."

I got my nametag with my graduation picture printed on it, headed for the bar and then the food table.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a guy in a polka-dot shirt standing away from the crowd in a corner.

Oh. My. Gawd.

It could be. It may be. It was!

Ken Taylor, my best friend through Sunnydale Elementary, Highline High and college. Best man at my first wedding.

We lost track of each other 25 years ago. It turns out he has been living on Capital Hill. His mother, who had moved out of the area, is back in Des Moines. And Ken's little brother lives in Seahurst. They had been keeping Ken abreast of my columns and news stories.

Anyway, Ken and I took off from where we had left off, challenging each other's memories of incidents 40 or more years ago and trading reports on old acquaintances.

I also saw a lot of old classmates including big men on campus, Dave Sabey, the ex- Frederick and Nelson owner and office park king, and Chris Calkins, the student body president who went on to Broadway.

I also reminisced with Jim Brucker, who I used to trade baseball cards with after Sunday school at Lake Burien Presbyterian. My mom threw my baseball cards away. Jim kept his so he'll have a retirement nest egg. Meanwhile I'll be working as a greeter at Wal-Mart when I'm 75.

Sheryl Stanley Johnson, my K-12 neighbor whose Ro-Sher Salon is the Times/News nearby neighbor on 153rd Street, organized the terrific reunion. How she and her helpers put it all together without freaking out, I don't know.

If you want to know what my classmates have been doing for the past 40 years, how their kids turned out, which major surgeries they've had, or whether their hopes and dreams have come true, ask Marge.

While Ken and I caught up, Marge went around the room talking to strangers. She's good at that.

So despite my pre-reunion jitters, I had a great time.

At least until I returned home and found out the Cougars had blown the game in overtime.