It's the time of the season for reunions
It was August 1980. I was living in what is now called the Wrigleyville area of Chicago. At that time, I was out of high school for a decade. Word on the street was that there was going to be a ten-year reunion in a few weeks.
One day I was out for a neighborhood walk when I noticed a couple of my former classmates headed in my direction. I wasn’t sure they’d recognize me since my look had dramatically changed since graduation. Even with what I call my hippy/grizzled writer appearance of shoulder-length hair and a wild full beard, I was immediately greeted with these words:
“So Howie, are you coming to the reunion?”
In my head, I knew the answer was no.
Back in the day, I didn’t like high school. I had a lot of insecurity along with plenty of immaturity…a bad combination. Once I graduated, I moved on from the area, both physically and mentally. Going to a reunion was only going to bring up memories of those times. Ten years wasn’t long enough. I wasn’t ready.
Before I knew it another twenty years had passed. It was time for the thirtieth reunion. I wasn’t interested, but I was a little curious to see what the people from my youth were like. There was a free ice-breaking event the night before the main event. I figured it was only a couple of hours out of my life, so off I went. To my amazement, I had a good time. I reconnected with some people I considered friends back in the day. They talked me into coming to the actual reunion event the following night. Again, to my amazement, I had a good time. I talked about this reunion to the people in my actual life for weeks afterward.
I don’t know how this happened, but I became hooked on reunions.
I grew up in two north suburban cities. The first covered my K-8 years. We then moved up north for my four high school years. I’m now involved with the people from both communities. Not that much on an everyday basis but I do get invited to both reunions and all the peripheral events surrounding them. It’s a lot of reconnecting.
My two classes were scheduled to have their fiftieth reunion in 2020. Then the pandemic happened and everything, and I do mean everything, was canceled. A year later, people weren’t ready. We just didn’t feel safe yet. But, now in 2022, even though Covid is still here, it seemed like it was a now or never thing. Now won!
So get this, over the last two weekends, both of my classes had their long-awaited fiftieth reunion. Actually, it was 50 plus 2 or 70 for the class of 70. Out of the last eight days, four of them have been spent eating, reliving the olden/golden days and staring at nametags to see if we could figure out who the person behind the nametag is. Hey…next time try a larger font…MUCH LARGER….WE’RE SEVENTY!!!!
A few years ago, my brother asked me why I was becoming so involved in this stuff after spending years doing everything possible to avoid it. The answer is simple. I’ve grown up a bit…yeah, just a bit….and so has everyone else. We’ve all mellowed a lot in our older, not old, age. Our life experiences have plenty of commonalities. Between marriages, divorces, illnesses, deaths, jobs, retirement, children and what is now our favorite topic, GRANDCHILDREN, we have lots to bond us together. It makes being together and conversing with each other easy, at least for a night or two.
So, that’s it for the season of my fiftieth reunion. It was great to see everyone at both schools. And no, none of us look like we did in high school no matter how many times you say it, but I think we’re doing okay for a group of senior citizens. Plus, there’s something to say for just making it to this milestone, which so many of our classmates didn’t. I’m more than a little grateful for that.
But, now I have no idea what I’m going to do next weekend. I’m already going through withdrawal. Hmmmm….Evanston? Deerfield? New Trier? You guys have a reunion I can crash?