Reunion complete. Though the word reunion, in some ways, is a bit strong. It suggests we were together once. And, if there's a lesson I brought home from my 'reunion' it's that I'm not really sure we were ever really together.
Did we all graduate? Well, most of us did. 151 supposedly, based on our class size in 1988. Yet, that's about the only thing that we were all really united on. Not football, not band, not church; nothing.
In the months leading up to my reunion, I started to build up an aversion to going. When pressed by my lovely bride as to why I was pensive about the event, I finally stumbled upon what had been sticking in my craw for some time. I loved my school and hated it at the same time. Moreover, the hate usually won out and I realized I was carrying a big ole chip on my shoulder against LHS.
The reasoning... well, there were several. Boiled down, I think they'd basically fall into two areas: social marginalization and the perception that I'd been passively screwed by the system.
Social marginalization boils down to this: Lindale was never a very welcoming community to me. Cordial, kinda, but not really welcoming. Not outright hateful, either. Just not embracing. It hurt to read some people write in advance of the reunion about the arrival of certain people in a certain year and how all the girls noticed. Funny, I arrived the same year and found that the exact opposite happened. No one really noticed. After high school, I had exactly one good friend I kept in touch with. So going back and seeing all these people was nice. But once it got past "where you live, what do you do, any spouse/kids?" questions, I didn't really know what to say.
That whole subject could be an entire post; hell, an entire blog. Everyone feels socially awkward, except of course the most socially adept. And they were 'popular' -- friends to everyone. I was less a social butterfly and more a social floater who could at least interface with each group but never fit in with any of them. Just the way it was. So going back is odd, because I didn't have a 'group' like so many others seemed to. And that was a little depressing.
Getting wronged by the system was much less a big deal, except for the resentment it's caused in 20 years' time. A couple minor jilts that I've seethed on for years comprise this me vs. them attitude that admittedly is about as 'so what' as one might imagine. One had to do with finding out just before graduation that a class I'd taken in 10th grade had been labeled as remedial. I signed up for it, an office duplicating practices class, because it fit my career of journalism and writing to learn how to use printing presses, etc. I didn't know it was considered remedial and no one bothered to tell me that. As a reward, I got docked 10 points off my gpa for each semester because it was remedial. That little nugget didn't get shared until I asked why my GPA calculation didn't seem to jive. Seems I'd have been much higher than 15th in my class had I not been robbed of 20 points the gross score.
The second systematic wrong was more an act of being disregarded by the system. I visited my high school several years ago - it was actually moved to a new building. But banners hung in the lobby recognizing state-level achievements. There were people and groups who placed at state. I placed 5th in editorial writing at state competition. No banner. They didn't do anything for 5th place the year I graduated -- only 1st thru 3rd. Yet, there were other examples on the wall for people who'd placed 5th or lower as I recall. Add to this the fact that while any kid who played in the band all four years got a letter jacket, I got neither the letter nor the jacket for going to state. They did give me a short little story in the yearbook with a photo. Guess that was my reward.
But with a lot of brooding about these admittedly penny-anny wrongs, I was getting nowhere. It didn't do me any good and I never felt better for having spent the energy being miffed. Why should I care? It wasn't like someone was out to get me and did these things to me.
And then it hit me.
That's what I took home from my reunion. Everyone there was on a different path. Sure, some were much closer together than others. But especially looking at where everyone is today, there's been such diffusion from the original point of departure. We were all unique individuals despite our attempts to prove otherwise via hair, clothes, music or whatever.
I went home from that reunion with a lot of regret. Not for anything done at the reunion, but rather for being so damned self-absorbed in high school (and for about 20 years that followed) to the point that I missed out on getting to know so many other people better. The best friend I have is great -- he's been a better friend to me than I could ever be to anyone. Yet, seeing everyone again, this time without the social stigmas that high school put on almost everyone, was refreshing. I wanted to sit down with everyone and have an hour-long conversation to find out about THEM, what they've done, and how they've managed to survive. But I basically didn't. Because I just didn't know where to begin.
I'm really a joker. It's a coping mechanism. Deep down, I'm very introverted. The sarcasm and funny business is there to mask my discomfort. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. But maybe, in five years, if we have another reunion, I'll get a do-over. I can walk in without the baggage, shake some hands, hug some necks and pick up wherever we need to in order to get to know each other. Maybe they'll be a little more welcoming this time around.
