May 28, 2022
The subject of last month’s angst, my 50th high school reunion, came and went. As trite as it sounds, the experience turned out to be wonderful. To be honest though, up until the day I left for St. Louis, I considered the possibility that something would come up to prevent me from going, but that never happened. Looking back, I’m grateful things worked out such that I could go.
As I drove, I tried to remember the last time I was in my hometown. Had it really been four years?! Wow. Time really does fly. My brother and sister-in-law still live in St. Louis, and we see them fairly often…just not in there. They prefer to meet up with us wherever we are. Other than them, my only other connection to STL was my best friend from grade school, whom I’d be staying with for the weekend. Not-being-connected-anymore as a result of moving away 42 years ago was one of the fears I had going into this weekend. The other was that I was sure everyone would remember something that happened to me senior year, something for which I was (still) deeply ashamed: an unplanned pregnancy. I was not exactly the poster child of an all-girls, Catholic high school.
I’d participated in the first Zoom planning meeting, curious to know any details, unaware that i doing so made me part of the committee. As it turned out, taking that one little step beyond my comfort zone ended up banishing all the fear I’d conjured up in my head about being the odd man out. I made phone calls and reconnected with a few old classmates. Little by little as time went on and a couple more Zoom meetings happened, I could feel my fear waning.
I am one of those people who always forgets to take photos of memorable times, and then I admonish myself afterwards. But for some reason, after the last planning meeting, I was led—and I dare say spiritually led—to contact the senior class president and offer to be the photographer at the reunion. She’d completely forgotten about such an important assignment and accepted my proposition immediately. So, on the day of the reunion, that’s what I did—circulated about, snapping photos while old classmates mingled. In doing so I got to see and chat a little with most everyone, and ended up having a surprisingly good time. And it was all because I made the choice to get involved in the planning and not just be a guest.
Believe it or not, one person actually had the nerve to bring up my past. 50 years later. On one hand, I couldn’t believe it; on the other hand, this person and I had gone to three years of grade school together in addition to high school, and she hadn’t changed. Her comment said more about her than it did me. The good news is that it didn’t really bother me…in fact, I’m aware of—and truly grateful for—the lessons she’s giving me in tolerance and forgiveness. That’s because I’m older and wiser, and grateful for that, too.
Two weeks later and 200 miles away, I’m still relishing memories of the event, the anticipation of which had filled me with fear. What a complete flip flop of attitudes! Now I find myself looking forward to doing it again in five years. After all, I already agreed to be the photographer. ☺️
