Here's the thing: I'm too old to be recounting how drunk I get at parties anymore. It's not funny, it's not cute, but it is, however, pertinent to the telling of this story. In a rookie move I went into the reunion with only a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in my belly. (If seeing so many faces from the past didn't bring me back, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich made on thin wheat bread with Skippy and raspberry jelly, wrapped in a paper towel for the road and tasting of nostalgia, would have.)
I can't drink much these days. I certainly can't drink a couple of pre-game glasses of champagne followed by four or five vodka drinks without getting Girls Gone Wild drunk. (While reports I've gathered since the evening, mercifully, don't paint me as acting any drunker than anyone else, I can assure you, I was.) I am actually quite frustrated about this because while I know it allowed for a really, really great time, I can't remember all of it. For the twenty-something in me who just needed a good night out, I feel I provided. As a writer though, I fell asleep on the job. I can remember bits and pieces of interesting conversations---Where were you on 9/11? When did you know you were gay?---but only bits and pieces. I want to remember them completely and am frustrated that Miss Hannigan (the name given to my drunken alter ego some years ago) took over.
Still, I suppose she needed a night out.
In actuality, the reunion had a comically small turn-out. There were maybe 40 people at peak occupancy from a class of almost 200. At one point, in an effort to make sure my friends who ran the shindig would be able to cover the cost of the location, I started calling former PHSers whose phone numbers I had in my cell phone to ask them why they weren't there. (Nobody picked up, but messages were left. Deep, deep regret here.) Despite its smallness, however, it still contained all that I thought a reunion would. At first it was like the Island of Misfit Toys with only a handful of representatives from each walk of high school life, sparsely scattered throughout the seemingly giant Elks Club. And then, of course, the Charlie in the Box and the Choo-Choo with Square Wheels started drinking. Eventually everyone was chatting and laughing and recounting old stories and crushes. Guards dropped even quicker than I thought they would.
My favorite moment of the night was just another hello that for some reason struck me as anything but. I was talking to a girl who I have known since elementary school. Despite having attended the same Chuck E. Cheese birthday parties as kids, I think she would agree that we weren't especially chummy later on, though always friendly. If I was a student council/drama and newspaper geek, she was a girl who ran with a "tougher" crowd. My God, there wasn't a warmer greeting of the night than hers. There wasn't a firmer hug. I knew she had recently lost her younger brother and I expressed my condolences immediately. She seemed so steady and spoke openly about his death. A bad heart. Drugs. She missed him, of course, but also said how the recent birth of her second child had helped her through her grief. I wasn't paying much attention to how anyone looked---10 years doesn't change that much---but her beauty struck me. Her eyes and smile were so bright as she told me how much she had been looking forward to seeing everyone, how she knew how much fun it would be. It just felt like such a genuine interaction---real life had happened here and we weren't pretending that it hadn't. I get tearful even now thinking of it.
I had so much silly anxiety leading up to this thing. The following is a paragraph I wrote a week ago as the day approached.
I’m looking for a book. Something of the instructional variety. Something that can tell me how to build a career, lose 10 pounds and procure a home by the ocean in time for my high school reunion which is days away. I’ll stick to a veggie stock diet. I’ll post affirmations on the bathroom mirror. Bring on the effing gratitude journal already, I’ll do what it takes. C’mon Oprah, what kind of energy massage do I have to do to ready for this?
And now this seems so stupid. Whether it was 10 years out of high school or 20, everybody will still just be trying to work it all out. Everybody will just be looking to have a little fun. As far as I could tell the bullshit of high school never even entered the building. I wonder if more people would have come had they known this would be the case.
Maybe I'll call them and ask.
4 comments:
This is my favorite post so far. It's nothing short of brilliant. How does someone go about getting a column I wonder, you need to be published!
I second Margaret's post. This column had that bittersweet irony you do so well, but you didn't hide behind it, instead you rode it like a wave. This one had a beautiful arc to it and sounded like a column, had a completeness to it. And, yes, you should make some calls because there are people who regret not being there and didn't because the preconceived notions of a reunion got the best of them. I think I know which student you mentioned who recently lost her brother; reading about his death in the paper broke my heart and I could see exactly where he sat in my classroom and see him on stage singing at the Christmas concert. I have to tell you, Lola, you are inspiring me to write again. I may be your spew neighbor come summer.
I can feel the magic...at at time when I feel so deflated you lift me up Laura M. You give me hope. Breathe.
Wow, guys, thanks for the comments. It makes the whole thing so much more fun. I had been a little worried about posting something this long so I'm really glad to hear how you guys liked it. I guess I'll have to do some more "real writing" for this thing. Some of the shorter stuff is just to keep me going with this as I know how easily I could back-burner the whole thing if it feels daunting. But so far it hasn't!
Margaret---I hope you know by now how much I appreciate your input. Thanks. Have you been reading Kristen's blog?
V-Dawg---Thanks to you, too. "Irony" and "arc"---I love the English teacher-y insight! Seriously. (Please tell me when you see glaring grammatical errors because I really know that I have some big gaps in this department.) I first read about Bobby on your facebook page. Really tragic, but I am telling you, Sherry had such a peacefulness about her. I was actually going to write a whole thing on death because that's what this thing really got me thinking about but I want to sit with it a bit longer and I wasn't sure the blog was ready for that kind of thing. What say you bloggers? Can I bring the serious/sad to this thing at times? For each downer post I'll put up pictures of me in the Snuggie about town. And V-dawg, I'd LOVE to read your blog.
Mattie---Life's weird, ain't it? Being jobless is SUCH good material. Use it! I'm going to post a Matt and Katie show link here as soon as I learn how to do that kind of thing.
I'm such a "meste" with this computer stuff. (Meste---being my word verification for this post.) I was going to get rid of them but they make me laugh. The last one was rejact---as in, last night in bed I... Oh, c'mon, have some class!
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