Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts
By Alyce Wilson
I just received an invitation for my high school's 15th year class reunion. In addition to a "traditional class reunion" at a local hotel and restaurant, the class president promises "planning other activities throughout the weekend to give us all a chance to reminisce, renew old friendships, and spend some quality time together."
Ick.
Unfortunately, the people I would most like to reminisce with are highly unlikely to show. I found this out the hard way five years ago, when I attended the 10-year reunion. The people I most wanted to catch up with, the artists and musicians, the comedians and writers, didn't show.
I entered the large banquet hall where the reunion was being held — far too large, as it turned out, for the event. I was one of the few women not wearing pastels, having splurged on a blouse at the thrift store that resembled stained glass, pairing it with a black miniskirt.
A DJ was playing '80s music, and I hopped onto the dance floor. That's when I remembered that during high school, all my dancing buddies had been a grade or two behind me. None of my classmate friends liked to trip the light fantastic (which isn't surprising, when you consider that among their favorite music was Beethoven, Def Lepperd and Alabama). Joining me on the dance floor were a couple girls who had been in the Business track in high school. I'd been in College Prep, whose one saving grace was a kicking English program. Otherwise, it was advanced math and pretension.
When things got underway, I had to choose a table. It was just like lunchtime at high school. You think I would have learned my lessons all those years ago, when I had the most fun sitting at the Brain table, which consisted of the top five brains in class (myself being Number Three), and our unofficial mascot, a guy who placed much lower in the class but was willing to do whatever he could to fit in with the Brains. I was the only girl.
So instead of using my brains and seeking out the geeks, I sat with the female friends who had tolerated me through school because we were all in band and because we went to the same church. They'd been my fallback position after my best friend abandoned me for Christian school in sixth grade, and I don't think they ever forgave me for using them as my safety net. If they were my second choice, I guess it's only fair they treated me like a hanger-on. But unlike the Brains' mascot, I wasn't willing to make any extra effort to fit in, and I opted more often than not to spend my free time writing or hanging out with my brother or with some of my younger friends.
Given the situation, I suppose it's not entirely shocking that these friends had planned an after-party to which I wasn't invited. They shared directions loudly, right in front of me. I went home in tears, telling myself, "Never again."
So what gives me pause, getting this invitation in the mail? Why am I considering the unthinkable: showing up to spend time with people, many of whom I'd rather forget? Is it because I think I have something to offer, something to share? Is it because I keep hoping that everything will be different, and we'll have finally grown up?
My fantasy reunion is similar to how I imagine the afterlife. All the pain, all the grudges, all the pettiness will have evaporated, but the memories will still be there. We'll be able to talk about the things that happened between us, make sense of them, laugh at them.
That's a high order, because to do it, we have to forgive each other. We have to be above the past and comfortable with the present.
Who knows? Maybe I'll be ready by then. The past gets less painful all the time, as I turn it into stories. I've become a shaman weaver: weaving my troubles into a blanket; I learn from them as I create something beautiful. And afterwards, they have no power to harm me.
One thing's for certain, if I go, this time I sit with the Brains.
More thoughts on my 15th reunion:
September 4, 2003 - Reunion Plotting
September 10, 2003 - Reunion Snag
October 16, 2003 - Reunion Countdown
October 24, 2003 - Idle Thoughts
October 29, 2003 - My Old School
October 30, 2003 - Catching Up
Moral:
Forgiveness is where it's at, man.
Copyright
2003 by Alyce Wilson
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