Twenty Years Later...
Yes, I'm still in a reflective state of mind. Thank you very much Jimmy Buffett and the ever flowing sands of time for my nostalgia. What was it that set me off this time? The dreaded "R" word. (And NO, I'm not talking about Rheumatoid Arthritis. Enough with the old jokes, because I know for a fact that most of you reading this are older than I am and you're just jealous.) No, I'm talking about my reunion. My twenty-year reunion, to be exact. Holy. Sweet. Bejeevus. I graduated from high school twenty years ago.
Ask me if I was nervous. The answer, incidentally, is childishly, neurotically, and unnecessarily yes. Why? Who knows. I think that after all these years there remains for many of us a deep seated insecurity and longing for acceptance and approval from those around us. I'm no different. Every cliched thought and question that you can think of passed through my mind as I walked in the room: Will they think I'm fat? Will the popular girls talk to me? Will the jerks still be jerks? Will anyone even remember me? I'm fat, aren't I? Dammit I should have gone to the gym. Why am I being such a twit about this?
Thankfully, all of that apprehension washed away as soon as I clipped on my name tag. (The name tag did, by the way, have my senior portrait on it... Looking around the room at some of the other name tags I quickly determined that I was one of the lucky ones... all I can say is that Dr. Seuss could have written a great book about my graduating class back then: Big Hair, Long Hair, Mullets, Beware!)
One of the first people I saw was a friend that I have known for eighty-seven percent of my life. (That's 33 of 38 years, for those trying to do the math.) Instantly I felt at ease and knew that I had made the right decision in attending. Why I was so nervous I have no idea. I had a wonderful time and am so grateful to those that organized the event for doing so.
Sure, some of the cliques reformed for a night, but by and large I was very happy to see everyone talking with everyone else. There didn't seem to be the judgement or snobbery one typically expects at these events. Everyone was genuinely excited to see everyone else and some of the conversations I witnessed, including many of my own, would have never happened twenty years ago. Perhaps we did all mature with age.
What I took from the evening was this: Don't worry about what others think about you. There will always be those who look down on you or scoff at your efforts or ideals. So what? Pythagoras once said "Rest satisfied with doing well, and leave others to talk of you as they please." I've done well. I have. I'm not saying that to be arrogant. I have just reached a point in my life where I am able to reflect on my accomplishments, and my failures, and have the confidence to say that yeah, things haven't always been perfect, but I'm doing ok. I hope you can too, and I hope all of my classmates can do the same.
If nothing else, twenty years late, I finally got a hug and kiss (on the cheek, ye of dirty minds) from a girl I crushed on way back when. As there was a lot of that going on Saturday night, she's just going to have to read this and wonder which one she was.
Ask me if I was nervous. The answer, incidentally, is childishly, neurotically, and unnecessarily yes. Why? Who knows. I think that after all these years there remains for many of us a deep seated insecurity and longing for acceptance and approval from those around us. I'm no different. Every cliched thought and question that you can think of passed through my mind as I walked in the room: Will they think I'm fat? Will the popular girls talk to me? Will the jerks still be jerks? Will anyone even remember me? I'm fat, aren't I? Dammit I should have gone to the gym. Why am I being such a twit about this?
Thankfully, all of that apprehension washed away as soon as I clipped on my name tag. (The name tag did, by the way, have my senior portrait on it... Looking around the room at some of the other name tags I quickly determined that I was one of the lucky ones... all I can say is that Dr. Seuss could have written a great book about my graduating class back then: Big Hair, Long Hair, Mullets, Beware!)
One of the first people I saw was a friend that I have known for eighty-seven percent of my life. (That's 33 of 38 years, for those trying to do the math.) Instantly I felt at ease and knew that I had made the right decision in attending. Why I was so nervous I have no idea. I had a wonderful time and am so grateful to those that organized the event for doing so.
Sure, some of the cliques reformed for a night, but by and large I was very happy to see everyone talking with everyone else. There didn't seem to be the judgement or snobbery one typically expects at these events. Everyone was genuinely excited to see everyone else and some of the conversations I witnessed, including many of my own, would have never happened twenty years ago. Perhaps we did all mature with age.
What I took from the evening was this: Don't worry about what others think about you. There will always be those who look down on you or scoff at your efforts or ideals. So what? Pythagoras once said "Rest satisfied with doing well, and leave others to talk of you as they please." I've done well. I have. I'm not saying that to be arrogant. I have just reached a point in my life where I am able to reflect on my accomplishments, and my failures, and have the confidence to say that yeah, things haven't always been perfect, but I'm doing ok. I hope you can too, and I hope all of my classmates can do the same.
If nothing else, twenty years late, I finally got a hug and kiss (on the cheek, ye of dirty minds) from a girl I crushed on way back when. As there was a lot of that going on Saturday night, she's just going to have to read this and wonder which one she was.
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