This past weekend, I attended my 45th high school class reunion. Even though I was on the planning committee and we worked really hard to put together a nice event, I didn’t really know how it would turn out. The saying comes to mind, "The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry." No matter how carefully a project is planned, something may still go wrong. Fortunately, it seems that most everyone had a good time so I can safely say our mission was accomplished.
What I didn’t plan for was my personal reaction to the reunion events. First, I was overwhelmed by the large attendance at the Friday night mixer. I was anticipating a low turnout but was shocked when I saw the parking lot was full and the rooms were so packed, we had trouble moving about. Even though we ran out of food at the buffet table, people lingered, posed for photographs, ordered drinks, and enjoyed the evening. I was thrilled beyond words. Much to the annoyance of many, I insisted on giving hugs and made it a point to make everyone feel welcomed and appreciated for making the effort to come.
On Saturday morning, a group met at the old high school for a tour. I must say, this was one of the highlights of my reunion experience. The doors were opened for us and we were free to roam throughout the old building. I saw my old locker on the first floor near the cafeteria (which looked very small, by the way). I noticed the old green tiles on the walls, the same door and window frames, the stairs, and the principal’s office (a place in which I was never invited to visit as a student!). It literally felt like I had stepped back in time. Suddenly, as everyone around me was chattering and laughing, my eyes filled with tears. The lump in my throat began to swell and I had to fight back the tears. No one else seemed to be affected so I turned away and hid my emotions so that I wouldn’t embarrass myself, as I had done so many times 45 years ago as an awkward teenage girl. Once I got myself together and joined up with the others, I had fun remembering the classrooms, the teachers, and so much more.
From there, we went to the old junior high building where even more memories were pulled from the deep recesses of my mind. Memories dating back 50 years weighed heavy on my heart and once again, tears filled my eyes.
I had lunch at the best hamburger joint in the world, Hamburger King, with James and Lorna, my friend since 4th grade. Several other classmates from my elementary school were also having lunch at the same time and sat in booths around us. I felt so comfortable and it truly was like going home again.
The Saturday night event was a lot of fun, too. I enjoyed catching up with friends, dancing like a maniac, and especially enjoyed having a photograph made with my elementary school classmates. As I made the rounds and said my good-byes, I told everyone, "I’ll see you at the 50th, if not before!" But even as I said those words, my mind was thinking about the memorial wall filled with photographs of friends who have passed on.
We left the reunion and I was, on the one hand, excited about the success of the past two days. But my heart was breaking as I thought that some of us will never be together again.
Some may wonder why I am involved in planning and hosting class reunions. I assure you it is not for drawing attention to myself. Maybe it is because of my personality type which thrives on honest and authentic relationships. I care about people’s feelings, I believe that life has meaning and I try to make a difference in the world. I am affectionate, I want to live in harmony and I hate conflict. I want to make people feel special and that they are important to me. This is who I am and how I express myself.
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