A comedy in three acts. Stay with me.

My sophomore year in high school.   A teacher who was rather, shall we say, "vague".

First day of the year, she passed around a sheet of paper, and asked that each of us write our name on it. She would use it for the rest of the semester for the class roll call. She neglected to count the names that came back, which included one Ralph Warden, who was not physically present--indeed, did not exist.

Next morning she called roll: Suzie Jones? Here. William Smiley? Here. Ralph Warden? (silence) Ralph Warden? "Oh, he's sick today, teacher!" Next day and the next day, Ralph was "sick". Then he was visiting his relatives in the southern part of the state. It was about a week and a half before the teacher checked with the office, learned of Ralph's nonexistence as a student. She stopped calling his name, but never said a word to the class. All of this was an in-group joke for as long as the conspirators were in that school.
Only an elite group knew and enjoyed this joke.

Now fast forward fifty years.

At our fiftieth anniversary reunion, a few years ago, included in the list of those who would be there that was sent out was our old friend Ralph Warden. That was good for a lot of good private snickers. But better was the fact that at the banquet, a speech was scheduled by that well-known, business-success classmate, Ralph Warden! The MC (one of the elite few) sadly announced, "I'm truly sorry that I received a telegram from Ralph Warden, whom all of you remember, that he'll not be able to make it to speak to us tonight. I'm sure you're all as disappointed as I am!" And indeed, several of the subsequent class-member speakers (who weren't in on it) expressed their disappointment, how they'd been looking forward to seeing ole Ralph again, how they remembered his amazing personality and drive and so forth.   Only at the end of the dinner, last gasp, did the MC explain how everybody had been had, and told the original incident.

Next morning those who had not already left town met for Sunday brunch. One of our classmates stood up and said that her son, who was waiting in the lobby for her to come out of the dining room, to drive her to his house, told her he had been approached by a man who asked, did he know where the Class of '48 was meeting? "Yes," he'd said, "the dinner is up in the second floor dining room, and I think it's just about to break up." "Darn," says the man, I had hoped to be there, but was delayed. Well, it's too late now, and I can't stay for tomorrow's brunch, either." The son said, "Can you give me your name? I'll let my mother know that you were here, so she can at least pass your regrets to those at the brunch tomorrow morning."   "Okay," says the man, "tell her Ralph Warden said hello."

Dave Oesterreich