Speaking of reliving the past...A coupla months ago, I got an email notifying me of my upcoming 20-year high school reunion, and in a style typical of my generation (Generation X), it seems like it's going to be a completely disorganized after-thought. Which—don't get me wrong—is awesome.
Since then, I've gotten several random emails from people I haven't heard from in 20 years asking me if I am going to the reunion. I've also gotten emails from the few people from high school I still keep in touch with asking me if I am going. Let's get it out there for the record (and for all the Google lurkers...speaking of...Hi former classmates! Delurk yourselves!):
I ain't going. I don't exactly why except to say that I'm just not feelin' it. I've searched my soul and I can't think of a compelling reason to go, but hey, you go and have fun!
When J. and I first considered leaving San Francisco to move to the suburbs where I grew up, my first thought, "Eeks! I might bump into people from school!" Which is the main reason why we live near, not in the town(s) where I spent my formative years. I just have this thing about the past and wanting to leave it there.
I mean, high school was what it was, you know? You find out who you really are inside during that four-year period. For most people, including myself, high school was a time of mixed memories and emotions. It's a time where friendships form and fall apart (for reasons no one remembers). A time of heartache and heart-break. Of love and unrequited love. A time for doing things that maybe you didn't want to do because everyone else was doing it—especially people you held in high esteem—but now you realize WTF? What was I doing? ...Idiot!
If I had to qualify my high school experience, I'd have to say, it was alright. I should have studied more and goofed off less...eh, but most of the goofing off was pretty darn fun. Getting busted for shoplifting underwear from the Limited was probably a bad idea and I should have known better. Not standing up for myself with stuck-up 'yotches and testosterone-charged sexual harrassers (enough with the ass-grabbing and booby talk already, you dumb jock) is something I will always regret. And staying out all night dancing in SF with the gay boys (Hi Mom...how did we ever get into those clubs with no ID?) then trying to function in biology class was just plain magical. And something I'd do again in a heart beat.
The uncomfortable memories have been dealt with long ago and the good experiences are perfect as they are, tucked in the back of my memory.
And so, no. I won't be there. And I'm good with that decision.
Updated to add: What perfect timing. My reunion notice arrived in the mail just after I typed this. I'm supposed to submit a bio telling everyone what I've been doing for the past 20 years. Last time around, I purposely made up a pack of lies that I thought were pretty funny. What should I say this time? Gimme some ideas!
