Post-reunion musings

Twenty years improves things. That kind of time gives people an opportunity to grow up, to mature. At high school reunions, it starts breaking down those old cliques, dissolves the old alliances.
As hubby and I walked down the hall to the room, I said, "I can't believe I have these kinds of butterflies." Just before I walked in, I turned to him and said, like Kate Hudson in "Almost Famous," "Well, time to put on the lampshade." That's only in the director's cut, btw.
I figured there would be a few people who would be glad to see me at my high school reunion. I never counted on as many people giving me hugs and telling me how good it was to see me. Especially thinking about the post right below this one, it was a real lift for me, considering how I felt so often in high school.
Ray's wife told me how over half of the songs on his iPod were Beatles songs. That tickled me, since Ray used to good-naturedly needle me about being a Beatles fan. Ray hasn't changed much, though. He's still one of my favorite people (and I don't say that simply because I'm sending him a link to this. It's the truth.) He told me a wonderful story about one of our classmates who had become a Christian and turned his life around. I was heartened by Travis' story, since I had wondered about him. We talked about how Tim fell off the hood of Ray's car and nearly died for that piece of idiocy. He survived, but missed six weeks of school.
Another big hug I got was from Phillip, who also hasn't changed. Phillip was another of my favorite people. We talked about sitting on those heat registers at Madison on cold mornings. The building was older, and heated by a coal-fired boiler (remember scraping soot out of our hair occasionally?) and the metal heat registers were prized seats in the morning until it got really warm. We even wrapped our cold fingers around the pipes, to warm them. Phillip asked me, "Don't you wish we could go back to high school? It was so much fun." I just grinned at him and my husband said, "Yeah, but only knowing what I know now." And yes, Phil, you did wear a gray suit to the military ball. Bless you again.
As the evening wore on and the cocktails and beer started having their effects, more people started hitting the dance floor--even the guys. I'm not much of a drinker, and I've always loved to dance, so I didn't have to drink to get out there and shimmy. Maybe we can do karaoke next time. Hehe. I'll have to get Ray to e-mail people and see all the pictures. Let's see--the ladies all had their pictures made with our very young, cute waiters. I know they were glad to see us leave so they could go home. Some were talking about going to the liquor store afterwards, and continuing the party elsewhere, but it was 12:45 a.m. by that time, and hubby and I both had to be at church the next morning. He's the organist, and I had to give a presentation about "Operation Christmas Child." Several people made a picture of the whole class, and I hope to get hold of one. I was afraid Doug was going to start crying when he hugged me at the end of the evening. He'd had a few and was obviously feeling sentimental. It was also good to talk to Jimmy, and to Frank.
I saw a few people I haven't seen in 20 years, and it was good to see them. Most remembered Daddy, and it was wonderful hearing how much they thought of him. He would have wished for no greater tribute than to have those he coached and taught tell him they knew he always cared about them.
One of the biggest surprises of the evening came when Stan, whom I once called "unutterably infantile," due to his eighth-grade behavior, told me he was president of the board of directors at his Lutheran church. Indeed, the Lord does work in mysterious ways! I was thrilled to hear it. I danced with him and think I got one of my biggest hugs from him. Twenty years does indeed improve things.
I didn't get to spend as much time with Lisa as I would have liked, but she had people to visit with as well. I was so happy to see Tonia, Tammy, Pam, Emily, Kathy, Susan, Julia, Dodie, Tricia and many other friends. Valerie is still a free spirit and it was a joy to see her. My sister asked me if there was anyone there who I couldn't stand and who still hadn't changed. I couldn't think of a soul. It was a gift.
I'm still processing all my thoughts and impressions made in about five hours one Saturday night at the Huntsville Airport. I may write more about it. I did lay some old, old ghosts to rest, finally. May they remain buried.
I am sorry for anyone who goes home from this kind of event feeling unhappy or inadequate. Our class really was a little different. With 125 people, we were smaller and most everyone knew everyone else. I hope everyone had as good a time as I did. These little rituals in our lives make them worthwhile.
I was listening to "Will the Circle Be Unbroken Volume III" by the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band and heard once again "There is a Time," sung by Rodney Dillard and Ricky Skaggs. Mitchell Jayne and Dillard penned the song. It struck me as peculiarly appropriate to close this post.
"Time is like a river flowing, with no regrets as it moves on. Around each bend, a shining morning, and all the friends we thought were gone. There is a time for us to wander, when time is young and so are we. The woods are greener over yonder, the path is new, the world is free."
God bless the class of 1986.

20 Years? Seriously?

I've seen a couple of my classmates who have posted their blogs concerning our imminent 20th year reunion. I'm having a hard time believing it's been so long. I really don't know how that many years have passed, just that the clock and calendar ticked them away without me noticing.
I was a good student in high school. Not straight "A's", but generally. My algebra grades were dismal and almost landed me a stint in summer school. The rest weren't too bad. I simply had many other things I would have rather been doing than studying, such as keeping my nose in the book of my choice. I'm still that way, to a certain extent.
I had my circle of friends in high school, some of whom I'm still in touch with. My class was small, and perhaps, a bit more tightly-knit than others. I knew most of the people in my senior class, and was at least on friendly terms with most.
I was not popular, except for being a brainy wierdo who could edit the crap out of an English paper and wore my dad's gray cardigan sweater all the time. I wore penny loafers, not sneakers, and had no money for designer clothes. My parents were not wealthy people and my money mostly came from babysitting jobs. I was on the scholar's bowl team, which, of course, made me even stranger. The guys laughed at me because I was a rabid Cubs fan (still am!) and the girls sneered at my lack of fashion sense, which has only marginally improved. I was overweight, although not nearly as large as I thought I was, and not as big as I am now. Of course, I got a lot of static over that. Why people feel it is remotely their business how much someone weighs, I will never know.
Except for a couple of guys who went to the military ball with me, and bless them for their kindness, I never had a date in high school. No one ever really "liked" me. I was too weird, too big, too everything, except right. One particularly painful episode occurred when I was a junior and our class was selling heart-shaped balloons for Valentine's Day to make money for prom. I was in choir when the balloons were delivered and everyone--everyone--in my classroom got one. But me. You know, it still hurts a little. One sterling example of a "gentleman" told me that if he couldn't find anyone else to date for prom, he would ask me to go with him. Thanks for nothing, you creep.
I lived 17 miles from my high school, and went there because my dad taught in that system. I had a good friend in my hometown, or I would have been friendless at home. I had no social life, no slumber parties, nothing like that. Just me and Mandy, although I wouldn't trade that friendship.
At school, Lisa and I were great friends. She had some popularity issues as well, although we found an easy friendship that has flourished until now. I cherish her presence in my life.
Since then, I've married and work at a newspaper, still editing the crap out of copy, and freelancing. It's one use of my gifts.
I'm more sure of myself now, more thick-skinned (comes with working for the paper), less concerned with what people think about me and happier with my life and myself.
One thing I never lost, although it got a little shaky along the way occasionally, was my faith in God. That faith has sustained me through every bump in the road, over every pothole. Where would I be without my Lord? I don't know if I'll ever do "great" things, but that's all right, now. I have blessings I wouldn't trade for prestige: my faith, my dear husband, my family.
But can it have been 20 years?