2013 is the 40th anniversary of my high school graduation. Easy sentence to write, but somewhat difficult to wrap my brain around.
High School, those four years that are wonderfully horrific, and too life changing for a young person. High School, that time when friendships are made, broken and mental images of yourself are set too often, in cement.
Talk to anyone about their high school experience and you will get an animated answer. That is just how it goes. You either have had a good experience or a bad one. There are very few indifferent answers. Facial expressions usually follow statements on high school. Faces either light up or are contorted into shapes only favored by modern artists.
Personally, high school, for me, was alright. I was not firmly planted in any clique. I could be friends with those qualified as “loosers” and I could be friendly with the elite of the high school social class. But, I was one of those people who weren’t known. Those nameless faces in the hallway that no one could name or recognize.
This brings me to my topic today. Somehow, I have become an accidental planner for our next class reunion. Not a major planner, but, one who will have some input into what is going to happen. I stumbled into it, or, I should say, backed into it quite innocently. I have to remind myself not to do that, those eyes in the back of my head have failed me more than this time.
While on our month vacation my hubby and I had dinner with a former classmate of mine. We had lunch together for the three years of senior high school. Each day we would march down to the cafeteria and eat our lunches and talk. A friendship developed that has somehow withstood the years since our graduation. We don’t talk often, we email occasionally, and we see each other every four or five years. This year we have managed to see each other twice in the past four months. The second visit being while we were waiting for our precious grandson to make his entrance.
While at dinner with this friend, we began a discussion on our class reunion. Harmless enough, but I made the mistake of forgetting I was talking with one of the planners of all the reunions. It was a fine conversation and I easily added my two cents. Still not realizing what I was doing. (They should have alarms for times like these).
So, fast forward to this past weekend. I am now the admin for a Facebook page for our class reunion. Man, she is a clever planner this woman. She got me to ‘volunteer’ doing this page and I was actually willing to do this. I have set it up and have gotten responses on it. Now, I have to keep it up. Reality has started to set in. I have to keep this going. I have to be clever with it. I am knee-deep in the planning of a class reunion. How can I now wade out of this? I think my hip waders are stuck in the muck of it all.
I can only imagine people’s response when they find out about this page. I can see their quizzical looks when they see my name. Who in the world is this and was she really a part of our class? Sometimes the insecurities of high school creep up on you and you find yourself feeling 16 all over again, hope pimples aren’t the next sign.
Thanks for stopping by, I appreciate your visits. As always, DAF