How Did This Happen?

When I was sixteen, my mother returned home after spending a weekend in Canton, Ohio where she attended her high school reunion. I remember thinking to myself...only old people attend "those things." She was forty two. Now the joke is on me.

My fiftieth high school reunion is this fall. When I think about going, I see myself pulling a box down from the top shelf in my closet, slowly untying the ribbon around the box, lifting off the lid and...exploring the feeling inside. All over again.

While I haven't conducted a scientific study, I would venture to say I am not alone in feeling some level of angst at the thought of attending. When my fortieth class reunion came around, I blew off the idea of attending in a nano second. Talking to a bunch of fellow classmates...what would we have to say to each other? Would the cliques be the same as they were then? If it wasn't for Facebook, I would be lost not knowing who's who and what's what. At the time my excuse was simple...I lived across the country and Indianapolis seemed far, far, away...like a foreign country I had visited once. Been there, done that. Living in Tennessee now, the same excuse doesn't stand.

This time It feels different and I am not sure why. One classmate, Carson S., is the keeper of everyone's contact information which is no small task as my graduating class was around fifteen hundred...give or take. He does a great job and sometimes I wish he didn't. It is okay by me if he stops sending out "those" emails with an updated list of classmates who are now deceased. I have to say, and I mean no disrespect, it feels creepy. Personally, I want to focus on celebrating living. And yes, even though I embraced getting readers in my forties, and started feeding the birds in my fifties, I have not yet started reading the obituaries and never will.

So why I am hesitant about the idea of attending? If I am being brutally honest, I am fearful I will have to to be polite while pretending to be interested in someone talking about their latest knee replacement. We all have issues and we all have our stories. Being a curious person, I want to hear the stories. One story I heard from a friend and fellow classmate is she holds up trains and steals the money onboard. Think the wild wild west. Those are the kind of stories I am talking about. Okay, we probably don't have stories like that but I bet Susan W. has wonderful travel adventures and Barbara K. has great stories from her latest concert adventure, and Kent C...well the skies the limit with him. And while Jennifer D. has had more health challenges than anyone deserves, she recently met and married the love of her life so I am sure she has a story or two. And then there is my high school boyfriend, Rick R. He's always up to something crazy...the list goes on. Maybe Leslie C. will share her secret for how she hasn't aged a bit.

Let's not forget there is a bit of vanity thrown into all of my pondering. Waistlines have changed, hairlines have thinned, and breasts have drooped. Okay maybe not for everyone. The good news ladies...after having a male housemate in my twenties, I quickly learned men worry about all the same issues we do. And I firmly believe if we are worried about what people think of us by this time in our lives...all I can say is good luck. My dear friend says I should slide in wearing a bikini with my glass raised and say, " it has been one hell of a ride!"...Now I have even more to ponder.