Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be lawyers...

I don't have much use for the alumni publications I get from Syracuse.

One, I don't go there any more, and know no one who does, so I have no stake in the new building they're constructing on their Disney-fied version of a college campus, no interest in the programs sending freshmen overseas, don't care who is now a sitting professor in the College of Take-Your-Money-And-Give-You-Kids-Who-Don't-Know-Shit. (which is not how it used to be, so Mom, Dad, no, I did find my four years there a valuable and educational experience...)

Two, I resent the fact that if I DID send in any alumni contributions (come on, what do you think they use them for?), they'd mostly go toward producing the several slick, oversized, five color extravaganzas I receive in the mail every quarter or so. Plus all of the salaries of everyone on the masthead.

What I am interested in is that section in the back where alum can write in little blurbs about what they're doing now, that they've married Buffy or Biff or finally learned to read. Along with a little photo, that, while there are some that are really creatively shot, most are the standard top-of-the-balding-head-to-the-bottom-of-the-necktie bio shots.

Come on. Don't tell me you don't go there, too. It's like watching NASCAR for the accidents or Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan for, well, any move they might make.

Yes, it's potentially destructive and definitely cynical (there is a study going that says that people who are cynical die earlier than their more positive-minded counterparts, but, hey, if you're cynical, you already knew that, didn't you?) but I often compare people's bios to where I am in my own life. And the women - well, I just have to see if they're aging faster than I am.

And no, it's not fair that I graduated with Vanessa Williams. And it's definitely not fair that I torment my poor husband about it when we're watching Ugly Betty:

Me: We're the same age, you know. She was in my Art History class.
Him: Yeah, you tell me all the time.
Me: I don't look older than she does, do I?
Him: (silence)

Which is probably the smartest thing he could have said.

But anyway, I opened my latest "How are we spending your alumni contributions now" publication, flipped to the back and BAM! There's a blurb (with photo!) of the first guy I kissed at SU. We met at a party. He was adorable, with curly hair and eyes like Bambi. Picture that guy from Scrubs with a faux 'fro (hey, it was the late 70s). We met at one of those spontaneous dorm parties that spread like mold during that first week or so of school. He tried to get me drunk on Pink Champale. One kiss was as far as we got and I never hung out with him again, as we both quickly discovered that we had nothing in common except being away from home for the first time. We greeted each other with embarrassed grunts whenever we passed in the halls, which gradually petered out to no contact whatsoever.

But oh, my god, this picture! He's a lawyer (which I never would have predicted - CPA, maybe, but not a lawyer), just joined some new firm in New Jersey. I tried reading between the lines...hmm, simply joining a new firm, not a partner, what happened at the old firm...(it's a joy to be a writer sometimes...) Perhaps he tried to get some intern drunk on Pink Champale...and then the photo! I'm sorry to say the years have not been kind. I looked for the adorable eighteen year old in there and...nope. Couldn't see a whit of it. This guy looked like a shoe salesman from Long Island. (not meaning, of course, to disparage the shoe salesmen from Long Island)

I'm hoping it was a bad photo.

Or a misprint.

I just don't like knowing that the first guy I kissed when I was away from home for the first time became a lawyer.

It could have been worse, I suppose.

We could have missed each other entirely at that party. Then I wouldn't have the memory at all of this pure moment, the sweet deliriousness of being partially tipsy at my first college party and the cutest guy in the room kisses me, not some mega-babe, which of course meant that life was perfect and I belonged.

Even if he did turn out to be a lawyer with an overbite.

And I DO think that I don't look any older than Vanessa Williams.

No matter what my husband doesn't say.