One of the most interesting parts of my high school reunion (I just returned from my five-year reunion at a New England boarding school) was asking people why they had come.  For many, it was a long and expensive journey, but without exception, my classmates minimized the inconvenience.  ”I was in the neighborhood” was a common refrain, though not a particularly plausible one when you hear it justifying a trip from Manhattan to Concord, New Hampshire.  One of my classmates told me Concord was practically on the way from San Francisco to Washington, D.C., and another went to great lengths to explain that she hadn’t come up from Argentina to go to the reunion, but to a wedding in California.

For some reason, it is unacceptable to tell your high school classmates that you actually spent a considerable amount of money and time to see them.  This struck me as odd.  Isn’t this the whole purpose of coming to a high school reunion?  Doesn’t our presence itself indicate that we took the time and trouble to come?  These questions raised a more basic question: why did we come at all?

I reached out a hand from under the blankets, and rang the bell for Jeeves.

“Good evening Jeeves.”

“Good morning, sir.”

This surprised me.

“Is it morning?”

– The Code of the Woosters

I’m going to be perfectly frank with you: you should read more P.G. Wodehouse.  If you would accept this now, you would save yourself a lot of time spent reading this silly article, which is quite long and has far too few actual Wodehouse quotations.  Also, and this is my central claim, if you start reading right now, you start that much sooner on the path to a better, happier and more tolerant life.   Buddhists meditate; Mevlevi Sufis whirl; I read The Code of the Woosters, and I’m a much better person for it.