Sometimes I wonder if Facebook is a blog death knell. I'm so bad about updating, although I post status updates fairly often. But at my 20 year high school reunion (an event that needs more than 144 characters to chronicle), I found out that some people actually still read my blog (even if they are also on FB with me). I'm not just talking into an empty blogosphere. Who'd a thunk it?
So, reunion. It's been two decades since I graduated, which I know because I am aware of the progression of time (and I can count to twenty), but I am not willing to accept because I remember my mom going to her 20 year reunion so it can't be time for me to have one. Also, I was not all that popular in high school. I wasn't all that unpopular either. I was just sort of there. I did my thing, I interacted with people, then I went on my merry way. So why was I so gung ho about planning and attending a reunion? I don't know, I just was. Roll with it, people.
Thanks to the wonder that is Facebook, we had a reunion committee with members spread all over the country. Periodic webchats and the use of a local planner meant that we could put all the pieces into place without ever being in a room together until the event itself. Because of a brain fart on my part early in the planning process, the rest of the family had left for vacation the morning of my reunion (I thought our beach week was the first week of August, not the last week of July.) My parents and sister agreed to drive the kids to the beach, allowing Hubby to do some golfing on the Eastern Shore early in the day. So, I had an entire day to laze around in preparation to party. I meandered around a shopping center that was not around while I was in high school, catching a movie and doing some shopping, grabbing a late lunch (since the reunion didn't start until 7:30). I had my parents' house to myself, except for the dogs (who guilted me into a walk before I showered and got ready), and I held out hope that the rain that started right as I left the house wouldn't keep folks away.
The first person I saw when I arrived was our planning committee chair, a woman I've known since we were in elementary school. We served as greeters for the first hour or so of the reunion, and I was amazed at her ability to recognize everyone despite having been out of touch for so long. We did hear some groaning about the nametags having our senior yearbook photos on them (one of my classmates noted that paying the extra $10 at the door was worth not having his 1989 hairstyle on display all night). I put my yearbook on an empty table, which led to a lot of laughs as everyone looked through it. I can proudly say that I did not embarrass myself by dancing too much (and even if my dancing was excessive, the breakdancing exhibition from one of the other graduates overshadowed it), and the candid photos of me that ended up on the CD at the end of the night were only mildly unflattering.
A handful of people went to a local bar at the conclusion of the party. Coincidentally, it was in the shopping center where I'd hung out earlier in the day, so I got to sound as though I had a clue when one of the out of town guys asked for directions on how to get there. One of my former classmates, with whom I was acquainted but not really friends with back then, approached me in a boozy haze.
"I remember you," he said. "You were really smart. I was kinda a jerk. Not to you, I guess, totally, but I was just a jerk then. You know, just most of the time. But you were OK." Um, thanks, I think? Luckily, he was off to another conversation before I was able to formulate much of a response. I felt as though I should tattoo "Yes, I have three kids" across my forehead, considering how many times people expressed disbelief over the course of the evening. I stayed out way later than is typical for me (ah, the beauty of being on my own for a night!) and came to the startling conclusion the next morning that I can't run on as little sleep now as I did twenty years ago. I made it out of the house and hit the road by 8:00 a.m., but needed a nap before the day was over. God help me when it's time for my 25-year reunion.
Then I was on vacation, which is a rambling post all on its own, so I'm going to shut up now.
Comments