I could have easily talked myself out of attending my high school reunion, but it had been ten years since the last one I attended, and I like to think I'm no longer the social chicken I used to be. Most people say there are reasons they don't keep in touch with their classmates, that the lack of communication over the years is intentional. I'm not so sure I agree.
My extended family is about as large as my high school class. Sometimes months and years go by before I can stand in the same room with certain cousins, aunts, or uncles. But it's not intentional. It is a consequence of work, family, and even to some extent, energy. Geography plays a part since everyone is a bit more spread out these days. And while family will eventually bring everyone together for a wedding or funeral, it just doesn't work that way with classmates.
I do have anxieties about being in the same room with the people I remember from grade school. Having gone to Catholic school for a while I tend to remember my mistakes and flaws much more than anything that went well. I remember I wasn't attractive or well thought of, and I didn't seem to have a definitive social group within the walls of the high school. I remember there were kids who seemed to make a sport of upsetting others. I worry about the night triggering feelings of inadequacy, ugliness, loneliness.
To combat my nerves I brought along my husband, a wonderful sport and conversationalist in any setting. He's also very logical. He couldn't help asking me why it was I wanted to go. I thought it was curiosity, to see who else showed, what they were doing, and let's be honest, how they all looked. But the moment I entered the room I knew that was wrong. I was there because I shared a history with my class. We grew up together, some of us quicker than others, but we occupied a precious space in each other's childhood and adolescence, cheered at each other sporting events, applauded each other's awards, and mourned the passing of those no longer with us.
We know where the tender spots are in our classmates' personalities, and have all the basic categories down, the smart ones, the witty ones, the shy ones, the one's brave enough to take on the nuns. But as I looked around at my wiser, more compassionate class I couldn't get over how at home I felt just standing among them.
So, I'm here to encourage you to go to your reunion. Go whether you have bad or good memories. Take a deep breath and plunge back into the past. It's a wonderful opportunity to make amends if you were one of the bullies. If you were one of the rejects, it's an opportunity to forgive. It's not so much about making friends or doing a victory dance over an old rival's fading grace. It's more about learning to love your past, and the part of you that may have succeeded because of it. It's about looking around a room and feeling instantly connected, welcomed, appreciated. Go to your reunion if for no other reason than to spend some quality time with people your own age. Bring your spouse, a partner, a friend, anyone who will help you walk through the doorway, backward in time where waves of memories will keep you afloat. There's a warm embrace, a pleasant sea of faces, and an excitement as you make your way around the room trying to recall names. You'll feel as though you are walking through the rooms of your childhood home, admiring, enjoying, loving the treasures you come upon. Go to your reunion. I promise you won't be sorry.
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Linda Ann Rentschler, author of the novel Mother, a main selection of The
Literary Guild and Doubleday Bookclub. Author of the novel Jitters which was
produced as a Lifetime Original Movie. Playwright, best known for Deathbed.
IWWG. Dramatist Guild of America. |
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