High School Reunions are the Best!

The name tag is just going to be sitting on the table, probably with a picture of me culled from a yearbook.  Black and white of course because someone just isn’t going to donate their entire printer cartridge to reproducing photos of former classmates now gathering from across the country.  I’m so excited about the idea of tossing back a drink at the “Open Bar” all for the fee of $50.  They’ll even throw in some finger food so that we don’t get to drunk while listening to stories that didn’t matter when we were living them, but now pretend that they were the “best of times”!

I’ll agonize over my clothing choice.  Most likely some combination of suit jacket paired with jeans or some other casual thing since I rather not spend my evening talking about work or even be reminded that I indeed have a job.  This is about recalling that time when two people got into it at some basketball game played after school between teenagers who haven’t spoken to one another as adults in the 25 years since we crossed a stage together.  Maybe I’ll go completely against expectations and wear a pair of faded jeans and a concert t-shirt from Brittney Spears or Katy Perry.  [no offense to either person, just not my thing.]

One of the things I look forward to the most is hugging people and then walking away with a feeling of wishing I could head straight to the shower.  It’s not a hygiene thing, just a personal space notion.  Shaking hands with people who when I last saw them, I walked in the opposite direction.  Hopefully we’ll be seated together when it comes time to listen to someone regale us with a speech about how nice it is to all be together.  [okay, there will be one moment when they will show a picture or two of people who have since passed, and that will be a tragedy for several reasons.  That I don’t wish to mock.]

If it goes anything like the last time I saw anyone from high school, I will be able to walk around without issue.  When someone who has known you since you were 8 year old can’t identify you at your own grandfather’s funeral, you certainly have changed in more than one way.  You’d think that the whole 6’4″ thing would work in my favor, apparently not!  Add in 60 pounds of Lary that just isn’t there anymore, maybe I can be a different person.  Just forget the name tag and walk around like a fly on the wall.

We’ll talk about work, kids [I haven’t figured this one out yet.  Most likely will just say she passed without the details.]  I do want to hear about a few people’s lives, some people went on to do some pretty amazing things.  The young lady who became a missionary in Africa for 15 years, that might be worth the trip.  Seriously.

By the end of the evening there be the promises of trying to stay in touch better, even with the people who you learn live just in the next town.  Numbers will be exchanged, Facebook friend requests will sit possibly answered, a feeling of why did I do this in the first place as I race to the car.

So high school reunions, the bane of my thoughts recently.  It will be the end of September, but they want their check in two weeks.  I’ll send it and decide later.  My younger brother thinks I should avoid it for no other reason than he went to his 20 and was bored out of his mind!  And his best friend growing up was there, they both just left.  Not a good endorsement for these things.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Game of Groans.”

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