(Summer 2007) My 25th high school reunion is one week away. I finally made my flight reservation, and for this trip, reservation is an appropriate word — I’ve had reservations about going. It’s funny what comes up when you start thinking about seeing people you haven’t seen in 25 years.
First of all, can I really be that old, and secondly, just how old do I look? Does it matter? Yes, it does. I don’t want to be the fattest or the oldest or the ugliest, but at the same time I am who I am, I can’t change that in a week. (Actually I had all summer to “prepare.”) It did put me on a path of eating well, but I didn’t go crazy with that either. It’s funny how quickly I’ve been able to just put that aside and tell myself that I don’t really have to go if I don’t want to.
But I am going; curiosity got the best of me. I got my ticket and I think it’s going to be fun to see these people who are, in my mind, still kids. I still picture them like the last time I saw them, which was, well, 25 years ago –1982. And that means big hair, bad hair and shiny makeup for girls; heads full of hair for the boys. I can’t help smiling every time I think about it. I try to picture some of them now as balding, graying, mature parents and it’s close to impossible.
I also love to go back to Kentucky. I have friendships there that have resurfaced over the years and we sort of just picked up where we left off. There is a closeness I share with them even though we’ve all gone through several different maturity machinations – there is still some sort of sweet connection.
Thank goodness my husband is staying home. There is nothing worse for a spouse than to be dragged around, introduced to 100 strangers and forced to hear stories of childhood misadventures. I know, because I went to his 15-year reunion. The only memorable moment for me was when his “friend” told me that my CPA husband, who has a master’s degree in business taxation, used to sit on the Loser Bench in high school. I really didn’t need to know.