After the Ball is Over

My 40th high school reunion is now history. My informal Facebook poll suggested that the stark reality of seeing classmates after forty years would provide great fodder for a column, but since I had to leave by 9:30 p.m., I probably missed the more raucous moments. Still, as my faithful readers might guess, I have a bit to say about the experience.

My initial response to the reunion? Thank goodness for nametags! I had planned to page through my high school yearbook to refresh my brain, but didn't get around to it, so I was trusting my memory to go into overdrive. I recognized a few old friends immediately, but some I wouldn't have known if they'd kissed me on the lips. I'm guessing the same is true when they saw me.  

Some classmates have barely changed, while others appear totally different from their 70's photos (that I reviewed when I arrived home). Yet as a group, we look great. More impressive, however, is that by our late fifties, we appear to be comfortable in our own skin, not always our experience as teen-agers.

I was surprised by the lack of "do you remember when?" conversation, at least at the table I chose. While it was an evening of story, those stories didn't focus on 1973; instead, they told of the joys and sorrows that have put their stamp on our lives over the intervening years. Take, for example, my senior prom date. A serious accident was a defining moment in his story, requiring subsequent lifestyle changes that he never expected to face in his fifties. We'd been in classes together since elementary school, and I could still see a glimmer of the mischievous red-headed boy he'd been, but his grin has certainly been weighed down by the truth that life is difficult.

A Charlie Brown cartoon says, "The smile on my face doesn't mean my life is perfect. It means I appreciate what I have and what I have been blessed with. I choose to be happy." One classmate who stopped by our table could make that her life motto, for she embodied those words. Her story, too, has its tragic chapters, but her choice to live life fully, with joy, is contagious.

There was a richness of conversation at that table, even though much of it came in snippets. It had been a long time since these old friends had connected, and we had much to say and too little time. Pictures of children and grandchildren were duly admired, with each of us secretly thinking that of course, our grandchild was the most beautiful. (Those who know the lovely Madelyn Simone know the truth). My frustration was that I craved long, leisurely conversations, while the set-up of the reunion felt more like speed-dating.

A party with a live band at the Elks Club is definitely not the best way for my introverted nature to make renewed connections with old friends. It was a start, however, and with the magic of Facebook at our fingertips, we have the ability to stay in touch until the time comes when we can sit on the front porch until long after the street lights come on, watching fireflies light up the darkness as we share the sorrows and the joys of the last four decades.

One last glimpse from the reunion. Our reunion cake was decorated with pictures from our yearbook. As I looked at the faces beaming at us from across the span of forty years, I thought of the many hopes and dreams shining in the eyes of my classmates, and the twists and turns they've taken. On the cusp of adulthood, Bob claimed the goal of surgeon, and he's tenaciously followed that star, perhaps not world-famous, but life-saving to be sure. Sue dreamed of teaching others to love music, and she achieves that on stage and in the classroom - in Sweden!

My "future plans" were less specific: "To become all that I am capable of becoming." Whew! In retrospect, it's ironic that my life goal has become the empowerment of others to become all they are capable of becoming. Thanks, Class of '73 reunion, for the memories and affirmation!