Life After My First High School Reunion (Suzanne Forster)

First lesson learned: Five days aren’t enough to fly back to your home town and clean a three-bedroom place in preparation for a houseful of reunion company. Plus, whip up all the food and drink.

Next time, hire a cleaning service! Maybe even a caterer, although my puritan upbringing might not let me go that far.

By the time I’d finished cleaning the condo where I stay when I’m up in Olympia, Washington, my home town, I’d peeled the skin off two knuckles with a pumice stone, messed up my back, annoyed my knee, and thoroughly exhausted myself. Pumice stones are used for latrine duty, in case you’re lucky enough not to know, and if a stone doesn’t work on those impossible-to-clean toilet rings, then break out the CLR, which comes in a big jug and can probably be bought at most hardware stores. But be careful. This stuff is capable of peeling the skin off hands and arms up to elbows.

Second lesson learned: When the instructions on the container say wear rubber gloves, wear them! A rubber suit would not be overkill.

The real problem was that I hadn’t been to Olympia in nine months, and the last well-meaning relatives who’d stayed at the condo hadn’t thought to spruce up the place or even change the sheets. Sweep the decks? Wash windows? Perish the thought.

So, I was pretty pooped by the time my company got there, which turned out not to be a houseful after all, but one very dear friend who I hadn’t seen since her wedding (at which I was a very goofy looking bride’s maid, and she had the pictures to prove it. I’m still trying to find it in my heart to forgive her).

But Judy and I had a fabulous time catching up in preparation for the reunion. She brought pictures that went all the way back to kindergarten, where we met and became fast friends. I truly loved the adventurous, sometimes bold little girl with the beaming, angelic face, and now I love the woman with the vibrant red hair and vivid green eyes. She was a blond when we were kids. Those of us in her circle of friends probably should have known there was a fiery redhead hidden within.

Judy’s recall of our childhood was better than mine, but the pictures helped, and we were in bliss reminiscing about the old days and trying to figure out what had happened to our good buddies from Garfield grade school. The interesting thing about this reunion was that the one hundred plus participants tended to hang out with their grade school friends, and we even had our pictures taken in groups, organized by grade schools. Maybe that’s typical. This was my first reunion ever, and I was pleasantly surprised.

Garfield won for the most students at the reunion, I’m happy to say. And Judy and I were reunited with almost every single one of our best buddies. One had come all the way from a Washington, D.C. Another from Paris, France. It was more fun than I could possibly recount and more rewarding than I ever could have imagined. I’ve heard many horror stories about high school reunions, and I’d prepared myself, just in case, but I wasn’t aware of any disasters the entire weekend, and I really think the grade school connections were what made it so special, at least for some of us.

The reunion events started on a Friday night, where several of us met at a drive-in where we used to hang out. From there, we all “cruised” across town, many in classic, souped-up cars, to the beautiful hall where that night’s reception was held. The turn-out was terrific, and it was fun watching people peer at each other’s chests, trying to read badges rather than scrutinize faces that may have changed dramatically over four decades time. There were various lunches the following day, and that night we gathered at a country club for a banquet and a program that transported everyone back in time, whether we wanted to go there or not. Some of the inside jokes were borderline rude, but very funny.

I could tell you some great stories, but you wouldn’t know the people, and I’d almost certainly be violating someone’s privacy. Plus, for me, the real insights were triggered by an incident that happened at the very end of the banquet.

Some of us had congregated at a table and were poring over grade school pictures when a woman we didn’t immediately recognize came over and complimented us on how great we all looked. We returned the compliment, telling her she looked wonderful. Teary-eyed, she confessed that she’d felt ugly, awkward, and out of place in high school. A moment of silence passed before we all spoke up at once. To a woman, we confessed that we’d felt ugly, awkward, and out of place, too.

It was almost comical as we gaped at the each other in disbelief. You? Not you! You’re beautiful! None of us could imagine that anyone else could possibly have felt that way. Each of us privately thought that she was the only dork, that everyone else was beautiful, confident, and graceful. I was astounded that Judy, one of the cutest girls in our class, could have felt ugly or awkward. She couldn’t imagine how I could have felt that way. But I had proof, her damn wedding pictures, lol.

The true confessions went on for another hour or so, and then we all made plans to have dinner the following week, to keep the flow going. It was actually a healing experience. And fun at the same time. We laughed and laughed, but I know we were all very touched to have waited all our lives and perhaps only really seen each other for the first time.

Third lesson learned: Don’t wait as long as I did to go to a reunion! You’ll meet friends you didn’t know you had and see them as you never have before. Be willing to take a risk and share yourself and you may open some closed doors. Most of us had been living secret lives in high school and before, afraid to admit our self-doubts and inadequacies, probably because we feared being ostracized. Forty years later, those doubts and inadequacies were what bonded us. And what a sweet surprise that was.

Suz