Oh, Class of '87
All I'm saying is that if I ever start referring to these as the best years of my life - remind me to kill myself. - Randall "Pink" Floyd from DAZED & CONFUSED
I thought of that signature line as I walked away from the ashes of my 20th high school reunion a few weekends back. Not that I ever had any misconception that those teen years were anything so grand. They weren't. In fact, they were pretty ho-hum. I went to classes, walked home (didn't have a car until college), did homework, went to church activities, and occasionally went out with select people. I was never that social butterfly who had to attend all the keggers out in the woods. Not that I necessarily could have, anyway....
I was somewhat of a ghost in my high school. I knew of everything, but the reverse certainly wasn't true. I had several friends, but few really deep relationships. I made the rounds, perhaps seen on occasion, but forgotten just as quickly by most. This was strikingly evident when I arrived at my reunion. No one knew who I was, at first. It was only after some clue giving and a cracking of the annual that brought back the vague memory: "Oh yes, you, yes..." Of course, I had my share of trouble recognizing anyone myself, as it seemed that time had not been kind to many of my classmmates. Not necessarily overweight, but cursed with unsightly skin pallor, perhaps from too many years of libations. Yep, it seemed that the party never ended for many of them. Despite having mortgages and kids. At the reunion, getting trashed was still a major topic. I can't (and couldn't) relate to that. My party years came post-undergrad, but I moved on. Many of the attendees at the 20th apparently hadn't.
It wasn't a complete wash: I did get to see people I had actually hoped would be there. One was a cheerleader who had always been nice to me (she was rare, many more were like those evil girls in the film HEATHERS). She was now a speech-language pathologist. As this is somewhat of a sister profession to audiology, we had something to discuss. The girl who served as yearbook editor was there, and we reminisced on long-ago days of writing copy and sweating over layouts. But even those with whom I had some meaningful discourse were distant now. We chatted, but the words trailed off....they had their spouses with them, but it was more than that. You can't go back. This I've learned. Over the years I have run into other high school mates. Initially, it was a gas--nostalgia. But it never lasts. They all faded away. Those with whom I did keep are corresponded with once a year or less.
So what? My life has been far more interesting since 1987. I've met many fine folks who would impact me in ways that would have been completely alien to my high school self. I guess we all were clueless back then. Since I had skipped my 10 year, I felt it was necessary to check in, see what had transpired with these people after so long. It was educational, but my predictions confirmed: the relationship dynamic was static, frozen in time, still banished to live within the walls of a school that had since been demolished (literally) and rebuilt. When Forest Hill High was knocked down in 2003, the tangible evidence of long-ago exchanges were lost to the dust. R.I.P.
I thought of that signature line as I walked away from the ashes of my 20th high school reunion a few weekends back. Not that I ever had any misconception that those teen years were anything so grand. They weren't. In fact, they were pretty ho-hum. I went to classes, walked home (didn't have a car until college), did homework, went to church activities, and occasionally went out with select people. I was never that social butterfly who had to attend all the keggers out in the woods. Not that I necessarily could have, anyway....
I was somewhat of a ghost in my high school. I knew of everything, but the reverse certainly wasn't true. I had several friends, but few really deep relationships. I made the rounds, perhaps seen on occasion, but forgotten just as quickly by most. This was strikingly evident when I arrived at my reunion. No one knew who I was, at first. It was only after some clue giving and a cracking of the annual that brought back the vague memory: "Oh yes, you, yes..." Of course, I had my share of trouble recognizing anyone myself, as it seemed that time had not been kind to many of my classmmates. Not necessarily overweight, but cursed with unsightly skin pallor, perhaps from too many years of libations. Yep, it seemed that the party never ended for many of them. Despite having mortgages and kids. At the reunion, getting trashed was still a major topic. I can't (and couldn't) relate to that. My party years came post-undergrad, but I moved on. Many of the attendees at the 20th apparently hadn't.
It wasn't a complete wash: I did get to see people I had actually hoped would be there. One was a cheerleader who had always been nice to me (she was rare, many more were like those evil girls in the film HEATHERS). She was now a speech-language pathologist. As this is somewhat of a sister profession to audiology, we had something to discuss. The girl who served as yearbook editor was there, and we reminisced on long-ago days of writing copy and sweating over layouts. But even those with whom I had some meaningful discourse were distant now. We chatted, but the words trailed off....they had their spouses with them, but it was more than that. You can't go back. This I've learned. Over the years I have run into other high school mates. Initially, it was a gas--nostalgia. But it never lasts. They all faded away. Those with whom I did keep are corresponded with once a year or less.
So what? My life has been far more interesting since 1987. I've met many fine folks who would impact me in ways that would have been completely alien to my high school self. I guess we all were clueless back then. Since I had skipped my 10 year, I felt it was necessary to check in, see what had transpired with these people after so long. It was educational, but my predictions confirmed: the relationship dynamic was static, frozen in time, still banished to live within the walls of a school that had since been demolished (literally) and rebuilt. When Forest Hill High was knocked down in 2003, the tangible evidence of long-ago exchanges were lost to the dust. R.I.P.
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