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My First High School Reunion
And to think I almost didn’t
go...
Walking through the doors of the country club, it felt awkward for a moment. After living out of state for some years, I’d missed several of my high school reunions and nearly passed on this one. After all, I hadn’t reached any of my dreams, and now my fifteen year marriage had just dissolved. I was feeling about as high as Bobby Rydell’s hair.
If you can picture that one, you must be a baby boomer.
Then I saw a familiar face sitting at the welcoming table. Marlene smiled her I’m so glad you’re here greeting and whipped out my nametag complete with my yearbook picture. My hair, freshly bleached compliments of Miss Clairol, was ratted six inches high on my head. What a photo to travel with you into perpetuity—Jan trying to look like Sandra Dee with that perfect 60’s flip.
Judy—now Dawn after a mid-life name change—promptly cornered me. "You are one I wanted to make sure and see at this shindig," she said. "I'll never forget the day we were walking to grammar school and a bird deposit landed in the middle of your nose." I begged to know why a memory like this has significance for her, but I was afraid she might tell me.
Behind me I heard an animated scream which I promptly returned. It was Brenda, voted "Best Figure" and she still has it. Oh, I still have my high school shape too, minus the girdle—required garb in those days—when I was (in loose Biblical terms): pressed down, shaken together and running over. The latter overemphasized for sure.
We gave each other a sisterly embrace. Hugging is contagious at reunions; you get it when the nostalgia bug bites.
" I've been wanting to find you since we lost touch 15 years ago," Brennie chirped. “Oh let’s not let it happen again.” Come to find out we live just a half hour apart now.
One by one I greeted people, staring at their name tags to try jog a memory. Some were more vivid than others. "I remember you from Russian class,” one guy said. “I was always amazed at how you retrieved cheat notes out of your hair."
Therein lies the purpose for the ratted madness of my high school hair.
Yes, now old memories were filtering back. This was the guy who wrote in my yearbook: "I enjoyed having you in Russian. Everyone else in the class had a brain."
And to think I made it my cause to perpetuate this image in every way I could, the funny girl, always a sarcastic response to get a laugh. In those days I doubted there was much else going for me but a run for Class Scatterbrain.
The rest of the evening I flitted and around the room like Tinkerbell. Gone were the old cliques of yesteryear. Maturity had snuck up on us, and nobody arrived with a nose anywhere near the air. We simply shared a common bond, a mysterious need to rake up the past and touch base with a time and place that will never come again.
And era only this select few would ever understand.
I heard classmates telling things they wouldn’t dare share in high school. Dreams that lasted for decades, failings and foibles that can seem like the end of the world to a teenager until time and God’s grace add the proper perspective.
It was Kitty's confession that moved me the most. "I was so jealous of you, Jan. You were always so bubbly and wore the cutest clothes, all from that designer shop in town, and my family was so poor." Then I finally admitted my truth, "Kitty, the only reason I was so into flashing fashions was because it was a mask for my insecurities. I was a mess inside."
As the evening slipped away, so did my secrets. I told Jack I had a mad crush on him in my junior year and if he only would've noticed it might have saved me from years of therapy. He laughed but didn’t buy it for a second.
I admitted to Nancy how hard it was to hide the truth about my home life from my friends. “I always knew,” she said, “And it never mattered.”
In that one night we the Class of 1966 spilled more beans than the swing shift at the Jelly Belly Factory.
And I had a chance to thank people too; Wayne for his fine directing of our senior musical (which I co-wrote) as it marked a beginning of my obsession for seeking an audience for my words. Though he wouldn’t cast me in the part I penned for myself, it was one of the best lessons I failed to learn until God taught me that a prideful spirit is my downfall, and humility brings with it the bonus of wisdom.
Reunions are the time to make bygones from bad blood between friends. As we shared prom stories, Gail recounted her senior prom date with Al, our star athlete. He was the object of my secret fantasies, but it was the more popular girls who caught his eye. “Did you ever know how much I hated you for that Gail?” I finally let out. I had a grudge for Gail for years.
She tossed me a grin. “Of course. Why do you think I rubbed it in your face all the time?” We hugged, sincerely this time. One hatchet I could finally bury.
Next up was Libby, we were rival rebels in the neighborhood. I grabbed her as she whisked by. It was time to unburden myself. "Libby, did you ever forgive me for busting out your teeth with the telephone in the 7th grade?" Accidentally of course, while playing a prank. She flashed her shiny porcelain crowns. "Eventually, I did," she said with a smirk on her face. "When I found out you had your first root canal."
I refrained from telling her that I have since had two of those painful procedures and my front teeth are fake now too.
Toward the end of the night when I visited the ladies room some of the old gang were having a giggle fest. "Oh Jan, do you remember the time we wanted to see how many people we could cram in your Volkswagen Beatle?" Gloria asked.
" Do we have to dig this up?”
Sharon insisted. "Oh yes, remember when the nine of us got stranded on the freeway and Roanne got out and directed traffic because your car had no reverse? You can’t have forgotten that"
Gratefully, it’s been entombed for years. Oh, there are some irresponsibilities that are hard to own up to, no matter how many years have passed.
I headed for the door. "After midnight I get amnesia, girls.” Plus, I know when it's best to let sleeping Bugs lie. “Meet you on the dance floor. It’s time to twist again like we did last summer.” And funny, it seems like it could be. It must be what they mean by time standing still.
"
Okay, but we’re bringing this up again in five years,” Sharon said. “Same
time, same place, okay?”
I can hardly wait.