Reuniting? When does it feel so good?*

Pretty good crowd for a Saturday night
(not my first Billy Joel reference of the weekend)

 This weekend, I went to my 40th high school reunion, which means, yes, I am old.  I am glad I went despite the flood of campaign ads and signs in the very pivotal state that is Penis-sylvania (hey, I can't help myself thanks to Arnold Palmer and Trump's fixation).  As someone who didn't really enjoy high school that much and is not that close to those I went to school with, why did I go?  

 

 

 

 

That impending mortality is part of it.  I have lost several friends the past few years--poli sci folks, mostly--and so I wanted to make sure I got to see folks who did make a difference in my life long ago.  Sure, high school is 40 years ago, but those four years and the six before them (I lived in that school district from 3rd grade onwards) definitely shaped who I am, and I have a far sharper memory of those years than others.  Oh, and there is my FOMO.  I didn't want to miss out on whatever I might miss out on.  My FOMO was very intense in high school as I felt was in the group of kids who didn't belong to any group, but I am sure folks looked at my group and saw us having group-ness.  I was definitely not part of the party scene (well, after my brother stopped having pretty big bashes at our house when I was 12 and 13--my first bartending experience was at one of his parties).  

I also went back because it will be the last time I am in that area for the foreseeable future.  I was visiting Philly twice a year for the past several years as my mother could no longer travel--Thanksgiving and the summer family trip were always in Philly.  So, I embraced the last chance to see the place for some time and to see some of the people I occasionally saw when I was in town.  I also had to pick up some stuff I inherited from my mother--some art, a classic chair/ottoman, some kitchen stuff.  Oh, and I got to eat a steak sandwich with my sister at a formerly dead ss shop--Jim's!   I not only drove past all three of my old schools (see below), but also my old home.  Yep, I swam deep in nostalgia.

Our reunion was in the same part of a restaurant/conference center as another school having its 50th.  So, when I first got there, I thought my schoolmates had aged faster than I expected.  I guess those next ten years are going to hit us hard.  I could recognize most folks, even those I never really hung out with.  I had a harder time recognizing the men than the women, perhaps because the men shared the same dynamics--getting heavier, losing their hair, going gray, where as the women tended to look mostly the same.  I had gone to the 25th reunion and many folks are semi-active on facebook, so the time distance was not much as it might have been.  

 

Upon hearing that I live in Canada, folks thought I might have made the longest trip.  No, I was the most foreign, but there were a couple of Californians.  I was the only professor in the crowd, which will always strike folks as amusing and ironic--that I liked to talk a lot then (and now) but that I was pretty lazy about my school work.  One person did remember that I tended to challenge the teachers, perhaps overthinking stuff. I only one one strange question about Canada--Justin Trudeau's parentage...  I had to explain the academic job market to many folks--that my winding path was not the product of any plan--I am glad how things worked out, and I am very happy where I am at.

I definitely talked to a significant number of folks last night that I hardly ever interacted with. I did shake hands with one guy who bullied me back in the day.  We didn't have much to say to each other, but he was in a group of people I was chatting with.  The guy who I got into a fight somewhere around 10th or 11th grade wasn't there as he was one of those who had passed--you can't see his picture here as it is behind those in front.  Cheryl, who was in the front here, was someone I knew decently, as she had a great sense of humor and we busted each other up from time to time.  Steve, on the left side, had one of the biggest personalities in the school.  Bruce and Jeff were guys I knew but not very well.  Buddy, who is behind Jeff on this table was a guy I was friends with in middle school, but didn't have any classes with in high school, again, if I remember correctly.  Jennifer died when we were in middle school--we had some classes together, but she was mostly a friend of some of my friends.  That display hit pretty hard.

I appeared on this display in my fave
Mr. Bill T-shirt.  Yep, we provided
our own costumes for that play.

This one display had some theater stuff that was fun to see, as I didn't do much extracurricular stuff and didn't hang out with the yearbook crew, so there aren't that many shots of me.  But I did do a one act play, Sittin, where I played a kid who sat in a tree all summer to impress a girl.  I was typecast, of course, because the story of my high school years was desperation and failure when it came to dating. Which reminds me, I forgot to ask a classmate about his sister, the one person I dated for several weeks back in 11th grade.  I had sworn that given how hard it was to ask people out that if any girl asked me out, I would say yes.  And I was glad to do so as we had fun for awhile.  

One of the big surprises was that more than a few of my classmates, including those I hardly ever talked to reported that they read my stuff here, which surprised me.  No, I am not surprised that my dad literally printed out every page of my blog (and of my rate my prof page), but I never really thought that those folks way back would be following me here.  It was really quite touching to hear that.  And, of course, now I am really self-conscious as I write these words.

 The only regret I had was that one of our teachers showed up--a guy who barely let me into his AP English class and only after writing an essay on Ethan Frome right before junior year (I still hate that book).  Yes, I did summer homework to get into that class.  I was glad I did, as I did learn a lot from him, and the other folks in the class were the sharpest kids in school, so I learned a lot from them and had fun.  And we did it all again the next year in a class called Humanities, for those who took AP English in 11th grade.  I did want to report to him that the guy who barely made it into his class and was a solid B/B+ student has managed to make writing a large part of his career--five books (the latest one is all but processed and published) and counting plus writing here as well.  That and I wanted to say hi to his wife who was, um, much younger--someone who had been to least a few of my brother's parties.  I was glad to have said hi to my fave history teacher at my 25th--he passed shortly afterwards, so I was glad to have thanked him for his enthusiasm and support for my interest in international relations. 

It was just a very sweet evening even though I didn't bring any cookies.  There was no ice cream, bice cream or otherwise.  [The cake was ok, I didn't try the cookies]. I was most amused that one classmate joked about being annoyed at all of my bice cream pics--that it encouraged bad habits.  Wait until she sees the months long baking for this year's cookie-fest.  Despite the AC varying in intensity, it was a night full of warmth and good feelings.  I am already looking forward to ten years from now.

 

 

 

It was simply LM Middle School back in my day.

Red Lion, now a library, and formerly a very,
very old school for 3rd and 4th grade. 
Tis where I started at Lower Moreland.
The heaters in it made me sick on a regular
basis.

 

 

 

Ye olde LM High School. 

 

* I once titled a paper on irredentism after this song.  Alas, editors hate fun titles.