A High School Reunion (Pat Potter)

I attended my first high school reunion last weekend and had a blast.
I wasn’t so sure I would. I had transferred into a city high school from a county school, and felt very much the interloper. Most of the other kids had grown up together, attended grade school and junior high together, and I never felt I belonged.

I was also nerdish, enjoying a book as much as parties. I did go to the Senior Prom but it was with a friend rather than a steady.

I had no intention then in returning for the 10th , 15th, 20th , 25th or 30th anniversary. However, I finally became interested this past year. Someone from the class started contacting everyone, reporting on news and sending out photos. Curiosity poked at me. Why not go back and see what had happened all these years? Good story material, I told myself. At least that’s my story. and I’m sticking to it.

Few were recognizable, except a few lucky ones who seemed not to age at all. I was astounded when my date from decades earlier popped up and introduced himself, beard and all. Everyone was genuinely interested in everyone else. One classmate had been savaged in San Francisco because he was gay and had become permanently disabled. Everyone looked after him.

Someone had produced a booklet about our lives, and the reading was fascinating. Every profession seemed to be represented. They ranged from professional poker player to a U.S. Army Special Forces and everything inbetween. One of the hellraisers was a minister. Another had become deeply involved in activist politics.

But the best part followed a dinner Saturday night when attendees I didn’t know could sing took over the microphone and belted out gospel songs as well as tunes around during our time. There was a wonderful sense of community, of fellowship. I felt a belonging that eluded me during those earlier days.

All in all, I had a great time. I made new friends from old acquaintances, and I’ll be back in five years.

One of the highlights was a poem read by one of the “classmates.” It describes the reunion better than I ever could. Here it is. Author unknown.

Every five years, as summertime nears
An announcement arrives in the mail,
A reunion is planned; it’ll be really grand
Make plans to attend without fail.

I’ll never forget the first time we met.
We tried so hard to impress
We drove fancy cars, smoked big cigars
and wore our most elegant dress.

It was quite an affair; the whole class was there.
It was held at a fancy hotel.
We wined and we dined, and we acted refined
And everyone thought it was swell.

The men all conversed about who had been first
To achieve great fortune and fame.
Meanwhile, their spouses described their fine houses
And how beautiful their children became.

The homecoming queen, who once had been lean,
Now weighed in at one-ninety-six.
The jocks who were there had lost their hair,
And the cheerleaders could no longer do kicks.

No one had heard about the class nerd
who’d guided a spacecraft to the moon;
Or poor little Jane, who’s always been plain;
She married a shipping tycoon.

The boy we’d decreed “most apt to succeed”
was serving ten years in the pen,
While the one voted “least” now as a priest;
Just shows you can be wrong now and then.

They awarded a prize to one of the guys
Who seemed to have aged the least.
Another was given to the grad who had driven
the farthest to attend the feast.

They took a class picture, a curious mixture
Of beehives, crew cuts and wide ties.
Tall, short, or skinny, the style was the Mini;
You never saw so many thighs.

At our next get-together, no one cared whether
They impressed their classmates or not.
The mood was informal, a whole lot more normal;
By this time we’d all gone to pot.

It was held out-of-doors, at the lake shores
We ate hamburgers, coleslaw, and beans
Then most of us lay around in the shade,
in our comfortable T-shirts and jeans.

By the fortieth year, it was abundantly clear,
we were definitely over the hill.
Those who weren’t dead had to crawl out of bed,
And be home in time for their pill.

And now I can’t wait; they’ve set the date;
Our fiftieth is coming, I’m told.
It should be a ball, they’ve rented a hall
At the Shady Rest Home for the old.

Repairs have been made on my hearing aid;
My pacemaker’s been turned up on high.
My wheelchair is oiled, and my teeth have been boiled;
And I’ve bought a new wig and glass eye.

I’m feeling quite hearty, and I’m ready to party
I’m gonna dance ‘til dawn’s early light.
It’ll be lots of fun’ but I just hope that there’s a
few others who can make it that night.