Saturday, June 13, 2015
Be True to Your School
Ah High School, so many years ago. And then the high school reunion. Seriously? Already? Didn't we just have one?
Well, actually it is my DH's reunion - his 40th. Given we went to the same school, he was only two classes ahead of me, and the school was small, I know many of his classmates. Come to think about it, I dated one or two. But I digress.
The letter went out months ago about a planning meeting. Then the post card arrived with the details and, more importantly, where to send the check. To my DH's dismay the invitation said the reunion was going to be open to classes in both private schools in our town plus the public high school and they were inviting the class below them. This was no surprise to me, given his class had maybe 60-70 graduates.
I had friends in all three schools when I was in high school. However, my DH not so much.
A week or two later I received an email from the school alumni office containing a pdf copy of the same postcard invitation. I figured they were trying to cover all bases. Knowing my DH was not registered with the alumni office, no doubt they were making sure he received the invitation.
So there was much talk about should he go or not? Who would be there? Yada yada yada. It's just a get together with old friends. After all everyone is 40 years older - not just you. Why the drama?
As the weekend approached emails were exchanged and posts were made on the Facebook page. One afternoon my DH was reading me a list of classmates who were "confirmed". Then he went on to list of those "no yet heard from".
"That's odd," I said, "several of those are classmates of mine."
Then my DH read out my name. "Did you know you were invited?"
I told him about the email I received and my theory, which obviously now I understood was incorrect.
Up until then I had been very pragmatic. It was his reunion. Sure I knew many of his classmates, but I was just going along. No one was going to be paying attention to me, wondering what I had done in the past 40 years. Looking me over head to toe, checking out weight, wrinkles, and amount of grey. Assessing how I had weathered the time. No I could just hang out at the bar, chat with the significant others (or my tennis teammates who were in his class).
Well the rules of the game just changed. I have not played tennis in 30 years. What the Hell am I going to wear? If I had known my class was reuniting I would have watched what I had been eating for weeks. Made a hair appointment last week . . . Oh bother.