Cliché Alert - Thoughts on a 50th High School Reunion
My
God he was a handsome devil – what the hell happened?!
“Old age is a terrible thief. Just when you’re
getting the hang of life, it knocks your legs out from under you and stoops
your back. It makes you ache and muddies your head . . .”
From a terrific (but terrifically depressing) book, “Water
for Elephants.”
I would add that it also puts a face in the mirror when I
shave that does not resemble the guy in my mind. Perhaps that is what makes something like this
reunion a little bit sweeter, though, because we are all in the same boat. In
this celebration we still see in each other the handsome young stud or lovely
girl from our graduation day.
I think most people attending reunions – and especially one
as august as a 50th – have some trepidation. I mean many – most? –
of the people you won’t have seen for 50 years. Literally a lifetime has passed
and thus we're strangers - and what do you say to strangers? Our lives have
generally been lived in isolation from each other with totally new memories and
experiences that have shouldered out those from the mere few years we spent together in
dreary classes a loooonnnnngggggg time ago.
And of course there were the typical highs school cliques: the
jocks, the cool kids, the slackers, the guys that smoked and drank (and these are NOT mutually exclusive) – and then there was the vast majority of us
who were the unrecognizable rabble. (Okay, I was a minor jock but apparently best
remembered as a smart ass – who knew?!) Now the slackers may be doctors, the
jocks chubby cab drivers and the cool kids are . . . well, still cool. Yet now
the simple fact that we are older has sort of removed any walls there might be between us.
Oh who knew they'd take pictures?!
There is a sweet symmetry to life that you come to
understand when you go to one of these affairs. It was my great pleasure, due
to the odd seating arrangements, to talk with several people I simply did not
know in school. Not surprisingly, their stories were my stories; loves won and spouses
lost, children grown, aches and pains and dedication to grandchildren . . . or
their pets. (Speaking of grandchildren, I am ashamed to admit that I was pleased
that I’m not the only one with my nose pressed up against grand parenting
window, outside lookin' in.)
Monsieur Teeson’s ceremony honoring the vets among us was a highlight
and a very poignant but heartening moment. The fact that such a large majority
of the guys in our class served probably shouldn’t be a big surprise since we
graduated during the heart of the war in Vietnam but it was instructive
nonetheless; right, wrong or indifferent when called, we answered. (And one who didn't took the most honorable path open to him and I told him so to his face.) I’m just
sorry that there were only 3 or 4 air force guys and all those grunts and
swabbies. (Marines don’t count. No, literally, they can’t count, that’s why
they are such great guys to have around in a fight!)
As if we really need one, the bulletin board with the names
and pictures of the 45 classmates we have bid farewell to was a sober reminder of
our fragile mortality. I knew most of them and one was one of my best friends to
this day. It is obvious that it came far too soon for them but reminds us that there
is no guarantee that there’s a tomorrow - so get out there and live it up! In any
event, 45 seems like a pretty hard hit to a class to 266. And I guess it won’t get
better, huh?
My only and biggest regret is that a weekend is not long
enough to catch up with all the people whose lives, rich wonderful lives so different
yet the same as mine, that wandered off from the same starting point but along
different paths and then come back together for this brief point in time. Damn,
there’s so much more to know about each other!
I posted a picture prior to the reunion of some class that
celebrated their 50th quite a while ago, tongue in cheek wondering
if we would look better than them. You know what? I don’t think so but you know
why? Because I’m pretty sure that they got up in the morning and were still
seeing their younger selves just like us – they just had different clothes. (Of
course, they weren’t nearly as good looking as us to start with either!)
I’ll close with this from Lizzy Rain’s song, “Any Fine
Sunday.”
“We’ve lived and we’ve
thrived; we’ve gone and survived. And, it’s so clear that it’s good to be here
where there’s nothing like living through your fears, there’s nothing like
friends you’ve known for years. I’ll meet you on any fine Sunday.”
I’d be proud and happy to meet any of my classmates on any
fine Sunday - and hope to see you in 2026 (ugh!)
(And yeah, Lizzy Rain is my wife.)
NOTE: Class pictures stolen from classmates who were smart
enough to take them.
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