I look good, right?

I’m in Myrtle Beach this week for a sort of mini high school reunion.

It’s an annual event that has been going on for at least 30 years. And it’s always a good time. Gorgeous golf courses, delicious dinners, fine cigars, aged spirits, and great, nostalgic conversation in the evenings.

This tradition started at least a decade before I joined it. In the early days, I’ve been told, everyone could drink more, stay up later, and golf better. But the general drift since I became an honored member has been distinctly downward. With one exception: The post-prandial stories seem to be improving. I’d like to believe that’s because we have improved our narrative skills as we have aged, but it’s also possible that our standards in storytelling have diminished.

Each year, someone takes a group photo, which is always appreciated. The one above is not current. It may be six or seven years old. I selected it because… well, because it’s one of the few that flatter me. Don’t you think? (I’m third from the left, top row.)