As in the past, we started off with the decorating of the float. In high school, we won the float competition all four years. When we first started meeting for reunions (we've met every five years starting in 1978), we continued our pride and met all week continuing the float building tradition.

That enthusiasm has waned and now we meet Thursday night and my stronger classmates throw bales of hay on the trailer while I throw back a couple of cold ones. If I remember correctly, that's about the same effort I contributed during high school. With my lack of creativity, that could account for some of the successes we had. We also have some banners and signs and start to catch up on our past five year's adventures.

Friday, our class attended the homecoming assembly. We had a separate line item on our registration form to donate funds to Hays High School in honor of Bob Kuhn . Our class has a history of giving back to our alma mater, as we commissioned the statue that sets inside the main entrance of the high school and at one of our reunions contributed to a memorial fund for our teacher/coach/friend Jim Maska. This year, we presented a check for $800 in honor of Bob Kuhn .

I have explained my ineptness with cell phones and everything electronic in past columns. I never turn my phone off vibrate, because I would never remember to turn off the ring tone, and I am very sensitive to criticism and harsh looks.

As I have written before, although I can't text that doesn't stop me from receiving text messages. And I don't know how to change the obnoxious tone that announces the arrival of a text message. It keeps getting louder and louder and louder. And that's what happened as they were announcing the homecoming candidates. There I was, trying to turn off the sound or turn off the phone, to no avail as it proudly burped out its "rings."

Brother Mark, who was celebrating with his class of '88, and sitting several rows up, told me later that he didn't even have to look; he immediately told those sitting around him it was "my brother's phone." He confirmed it by checking me out as I frantically pushed every button on the phone.

Finally, it stopped. The message read, "You're an old man." To protect the guilty, I will only give you his initials. Jeff Willms . J.W. is a member of the class of '98 and is now a coach at Hays High and was attending the assembly.

Friday's parade went well. Last year, we ran out of candy before 13th Street ; this year, we made it to Ninth Street . And then on to the game, as the Indians went on to their fourth victory in five games.

After that, the Fanchon hosted our social hour(s) on Friday and Saturday, along with our banquet Saturday night.

It has become a tradition to visit the "old" Hays High where our class attended all four years. I had forgotten to get a hold of our regular tour guide, but St. Joseph 's Military Academy graduate Bob Ruder stepped to the plate with one day's notice and agreed to open the doors for us. This, despite a late morning departure for Denver to visit his grandkids. Our classmates were very appreciative.

On the schedule, we had listed Saturday lunch at T-Bones. So, I called Friday and said they might have some folks stop by at lunch. No problem. When we showed up Saturday, it was explained to me that since I called Friday at 10 a.m. and said we were coming at noon, they thought Friday noon.

I have inherited this from my father. I give you 5 percent of the information and expect you to gather the other 95 percent through osmosis. That being said, a special thanks to Mike, and especially Amber, for the extra trouble I caused. We did have a great lunch.

We didn't have a speaker this year for our banquet, so I asked our classmate Danny Kane to share a football story with our class on the podium.

It seems that Danny went out for football all four years at Hays High, but never played in a game. During his senior year, he was running onto the field, which is bordered by the track. At that time, the track was bordered by about a 12-inch limestone rail.

It seems Danny caught his spike on one of those limestone borders and went sprawling onto the cinder track. He explained Kevin Schukman never broke stride as he pulled him to his feet. When they got to the sideline, Kevin asked him if he was OK. Danny finished his story with, "I told him I was just excited to get my uniform dirty!"

Our class always enjoys our reunions and for some of them, this one was their first. We've had a semblance of the same committee since our 10-year reunion and in about four years, we'll start pulling boxes of information out of storage and start planning the 40th.

Forty-year class reunion. Jeff, you're right. I am an old man.