I have often referred to my high school as having been very similar to the movie Heathers. See, I grew up near Annapolis, Maryland, where the money flowed. Not to my house, of course, but to lots of houses around me. Not that I was jealous, really, and I was lucky that many of my friends were pretty much right about where my family was, so I didn’t have Keeping Up With Jonesitis as much as some kids. But, the pressure was still there. To fit in. To be beautiful. To be smart. To be whatever. But in many ways, I was also lucky that, along with my mom’s middle class income, I had middle class popularity. Not picked on, not pressured to be “it.” If you asked me then, I would probably have felt differently about my middle class stature, but I have had a lot of time to reflect.
This weekend is my 20th high school reunion.
I am not attending.
At first, it was based on my previous leftover feelings. I mean, there were a handful of people I kept in touch with, and if the rest had not sustained over the years, why bother? And I have lived in Denver so long, it’s not like any of them would remember me anyway, right? Hell, they barely remembered me then.
Then, as the time approached, and as our tireless reunion planner worked her little ass off to get every person she could back to Maryland, I started to wonder. Everyone else I knew who attended their reunion had a blast, said the “Heathers” had mellowed into normal, nice people – and even if they didn’t – who really cares? I mean, we are approaching 40, right? If you haven’t put this crap behind you by now, well, you have bigger problems.
In the end, work made the decision for me, by sending me to DC a mere 2 weeks before the reunion. Of course, there was no way I was going to fly back again so soon after.
But I was thinking about it.
Which shows how much I have changed as well.
I don’t remember high school as the glory days like some do, but I don’t remember it as achingly as I used to. So, I almost wish I was getting on a plane today to see old faces, laugh about old times and probably cringe more than once.
The crazy thing is, given the magic of the internet, Facebook has been a mini-reunion over the past month in itself. Almost every single day I have connected with people from high school and have become immersed in their lives, their photos and their history. Some I barely knew, some I knew incredibly well. Some I know better now than I did then. Technology is amazing.
So, friends from high school, I *do* wish I could be there tomorrow, have a great time, and if any of you know where the hell Toni is, you better email me.
As for my blog friends who could give a crap about this drivel, here is my parting gift for you. Senior Prom 1988.