Phew. It’s over.
My friend Jen and I walked in to the ballroom of Little America Friday afternoon and hugged each other in glee. After 6 months of preparation, we couldn’t believe we actually pulled it off.
I’d been warned for years that your 20th high school reunion is a surreal experience– it’s true. Some people had hardly changed while others were unrecognizable. Surprisingly, the class clowns were doctors and executives while many of the “brains” were still drifting. EVERYONE, and I mean everyone, was nice. After 2 decades people are done with all the high school garbage and simply care about each other. Stoners mixed with cheerleaders and brainiacs mixed with the jocks. I don’t think I’ve had so many people hug me and wish me well since my wedding day.
Can you tell I’m trying to talk you into going to yours? 😉
Our goal from the beginning was to make everyone feel welcome. Early on, one of the superjocks (who now has a PhD in Social Work) posted this on the class website:
|I remember being a pretty angry kid sometimes. I have some sadness about my attitude towards others who didn’t fit into my narrow view of the world at the time. So if i bullied, intimidated, or was mean to you i’m sorry. I love the idea of seeing y’all and this whole thing has stirred lots of memories & emotions.
I truly believe he set the tone for our inclusive, joyful reunion.
But I also have an open apology.
I really pushed my single friends to attend. I emailed, called and practically bullied them into signing up. I assured them they would not be the only ones who had divorced or never married. And I was right. Nearly 90 of our 295 attendees were single.
But Friday night as the inevitable anxiety set in, I was deeply, profoundly grateful to have my beautiful husband on my arm or to wink at him across the room as I was pulled from one conversation to the other. He is my island, my lifeboat, my home, my traveling comfort zone.
And so I’m sorry. Not for making them come, because I am so glad they did. But for saying it didn’t matter to be alone. Because it does matter.
The second night we had a family picnic at the park. You might be surprised that even in Utah the norm was to have 1, 2 or 3 kids. Families of 4 or more were pretty rare. And only one person was crazy enough to have more than 6. 😉 I loved watching my friends’ kids, seeing the resemblance to their parents and eyeing their interactions. Possibly the most unexpected scene of the whole weekend was my kids bonding with the two sons of my high school boyfriend. Their instant friendship was so intense that they followed us to the car and begged to come home with us.
In the car, Hans, Xander and Gabriel cried, “Those kids are awesome! When can we hang out with them again?”
Hmmm, 10 years probably. 5 if Jen and I are feeling energetic.