The t-shirt seemed particularly appropriate after I attended my 40th high school reunion.
My high school days back the early 70s were pretty painful. Socially, I was a shy, self-conscious kid who only had a few friends. Now I realize that, from the outside, I probably looked more together than I felt, but from my perspective, apart from good grades, I pretty much failed at everything. I failed when I tried out for cheer leading. And I failed when I auditioned for the school play because I was so nervous that I sang one of the worst renditions of Simon and Garfunkel’s “The Sound of Silence” ever! By the time I finished that song, the audience must have been longing for the sound of silence because my singing was horrible as well as horribly LOUD. Somehow, I suffered from the deluded notion that singing louder could overcome my tremulous hesitancy, but instead, I just made others suffer from my high-decibel, screech-like “singing.”
Such were my embarrassing high school memories.
Now fast-forward 40 years. I get an invitation via Facebook to my 40th high school reunion and I’m flabbergasted that 40 years have flown by.
To provide some background, I went to a Chicago public high school that wasn’t exactly high falutin’ even then and it’s even less so now. An anniversary booklet distributed by reunion organizers featured the most “famous” and successful Steinmetz alumni, including a fashion designer who was best known as a Playboy model and, without a doubt, our most famous alum of all time, Mr. Playboy patriarch himself, Hugh Hefner. Apparently, interests other than academics flourished at my high school.
Nowadays, from what I hear, you have to pass through a metal detector to even gain entry to Steinmetz and the place has the feel of a federal prison, which is perhaps appropriate since prison is not a totally unfamiliar destination for numerous Steinmetz alumni.
It reminds me of that scene in the movie Back to the Future, where Marty McFly goes back in time and, because he knows the future, he tells a baby in a playpen to “Get used to those bars, kid.”
For the most part, since I flew under the radar in high school, I didn’t know if anyone would even remember me, unless they were among the unfortunate few that had been subjected to my “Sound of Silence” audition, in which case, the aural assault would no doubt be unforgettable. Thus, the invitation brought out a number of conflicting emotions for me, not the least of which was the fear of, once again, feeling like a socially ostracized failure.
Still, there was the possibility that I could reconnect with the few friends that I had, as well as a desire to view high school from my current lens as a fulfilled adult. I’ve now lived long enough that I’m not as desirous of group approval. On some level, I think that I wanted to assert my confidence and let those who had once intimidated me know that they could no longer make me tremble – or could they? I wanted to know.
At the same time, I now see things differently and realize that most of my former insecurities were of my own making. I wondered how I would interact with those same people from the perspective of a mature, confident fellow survivor of life’s vicissitudes. Even if no one remembered me, I could have a nice meal, hang out with my husband, and visit with my Mom in Chicago. Plus, I was just curious.
So, off to my high school reunion I went.
Forty years is a long time, but it sneaks up on you. A 40th high school reunion is not unlike a senior prom for real seniors, or at least people who are old enough to get the senior discount at Denny’s Restaurant. We’re old enough to have grandchildren and many do. Perhaps most strikingly, forty years ago, we all had luxuriant, flowing 70s hair. Now, that hair is often sparse, gray or nonexistent. I was prepared for that.
But I wasn't prepared for the mind-bending time loop of running into people I had known back in grade school – people like Mike H., Carol W. and Karen K., all of whom I remember fondly. When I was growing up with that crowd I was so innocent that I was just beginning to learn the meaning of cuss words. We were still experiencing growing pains and learning to do cartwheels. Now, we’re more likely to have lower back pain and remembering to take our cholesterol meds.
Overall, I was impressed by how well most of my fellow survivors had fared. There is probably a bit of self selection in who attends a high school reunion. After all, if someone is doing terribly or looks terrible, they probably aren’t going to have the drive or motivation to attend. But overall, I thought that most of us looked pretty good for having endured four decades. I was impressed by the generally positive, unpretentious attitudes of those I encountered and I felt connected by culture, era and shared history. These were my PEEPS!
My husband Vince and I definitely had fun at the reunion. We love to dance so we danced up a storm. People who didn’t remember me or who remembered me as a wall flower were probably wracking their brains to figure out who I was, but I knew that those kids from grade school remembered. And I knew that Linda P., who grew up on the same block, remembered.
Still, I wonder what it will be like in another 10 years. Or 20 years, if we make it.
My 87-year-old mother tells a story about how she and my father had a great time at her 50th high school reunion. There was a great crowd, a great meal, a band and dancing. So they went back for the 60th reunion. “That must have been when people started dying off,” she recalled, “because there was a much smaller crowd and a DJ instead of a band.” Still, they went back for the 65th reunion, for which there was a definitely downsized venue and only a smattering of attendees. And instead of a band or a DJ, the entertainment consisted of one accordion player.
The image of one accordion player performing for a smattering of aged former high school students is hilariously pathetic and, let’s all face it, we’re all inevitably headed for that same downsized reunion with a roving accordion player, or even worse, maybe a kazoo or performing monkey.
Reunions are great because they help you to put things in perspective in a fun way – kind of like attending a funeral but with an open bar. I only drink moderately, which is a good thing, because I definitely did not want to hear the next day that I did something crazy like get up on a table and sing “The Sound of Silence.” Been there, done that (just kidding – sort of.)
I’m up for attending my 50th reunion, Lord willing. But I think I’ll call it quits before I have to hit the dance floor with a walker or endure a solo accordion serenade. And judging by how fast the past has flown, that day will probably arrive before I know it.
