I hated high school.
I wasn't any good at it. I did okay in the class room and I was good at one sport but overall, I sucked at being a teenager. The problem is that I was pretty much born thirty years old so I was an old fart by the time I was fifteen. Like a lot of kids, I felt like a total outsider; an anthropologist, studying a new and bizarre tribe that I was pretty sure would turn on me and eat me for dinner at any moment. Naturally, I thought I was the only one who felt like that.
The only part of high school I remember well is being bored half to death most of the time. It was my own fault, of course. I was one of those awful kids who took themselves
sooooo seriously. I'm really glad Jay and I were too far apart to have been there at the same time. We would've hated each other and he would've been right.
Looking back, I'm pretty sure I was only tolerated by the other girls in my class because I had the great good fortune of having a brother one year older, who was universally considered the best looking guy in the Twin Cities.
Once, at a track meet on the north side, one of the girls on the other team, seeing my name on the schedule, asked me if I was JP's sister. "you know JP?" I asked. "No, but I've heard of him." she replied.
The cool girls might have considered me a cootie-infested weirdo but they never would've dared do or say anything that might antagonize JP. Jeez, I wonder if I had any real friends at all? Oh who cares? In high school, fake friends are just as good. Maybe better!
My class is having it's thirtieth reunion this weekend. The fun kicked off yesterday with a golf tournament outside of town, followed by dinner and drinks. $75.00 a head paid the greens fees and dinner but drinks were extra.
There was no option for skipping the golf and just showing up for dinner afterward.
Tonight there's a six hour boat cruise down the St. Croix river, which is forty minutes east of town. Tickets for the boat ride are $75.00 a head, too.
Meanwhile, the same day that I got the brochure for my reunion in the mail, Jay got one for his class' 35th. His class is having a kegger at a park in town for $10.00 a pop.
That's the way to have a reunion!
I'm apparently not the only one who thinks that, either. About two weeks ago, I got a phone call. I didn't recognize the name on the caller ID, but on a whim, picked it up anyway.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Mary Louise? This is Nancy (name omitted so when she googles herself she won't find this blog). From Southwest? I used to be Nancy (boop!)!"
"Nancy (boop!)? Tiny little dark haired cheerleader?"
"Yes! Hi!"
"huh. I guess you're part of high school I haven't repressed."
"Oh? Hahaha! We have a reunion coming up. Golf tournament, boat ride...did you get the invitation?"
"Yyyesss..?"
"Do you think you'll come? If you still want to send in your reservation, we'll waive the late fee."
"Ummm....belly belly solly, no one heah by dat name. Come again!" I hung up. She called back twice but I wouldn't pick up. I love caller ID.
Who's got $150.00 to spend on a reunion? $300.00 if you want to bring your spouse and what about those poor saps who married a member of the same class? Not to mention the price of gas for driving way out west of town to golf and then way back east for the boat ride? Not only that, but my God, who wants to spend that kind of time with the people they went to high school with? A golf tournament? You can't exactly breeze through 18 holes of golf in an hour, you know. And frankly, I'd pay $75.00 to get
off a boat after two hours. Maybe more if the boat were crammed with high school flashbacks. Six hours? Just the thought of it makes me want to tie an anchor around my neck and dive overboard.
A few nights after the brochure showed up, I dreamed I was at my high school reunion. I hung out with three of my oldest friends: Jean, Missy and Mary Lynne (all of whom had
really cute brothers).
None of whom went to the same high school as me.
There are certainly people I would love to see from my class. There are kids I haven't seen in ten or more years whom I would love to talk to again. "Kids"? Our Homecoming Queen is a grandma!
I had a grand time at my twentieth, but I had seen everyone I wanted to see and said all I had to say and heard anwers to all my questions after three hours, and I'm pretty darn sure the whole shebang didn't cost me anywhere near 75 bones.
I hope for our fortieth someone just opens a keg or two in the woods, like we used to do in the old days.
Come to think of it, our thirtieth is just like the old days; Someone threw a party and I didn't go.
