(To all my thy­roid friends, I thought you might enjoy my off-topic post con­cer­ning my high school reu­nion, since many of you may be approaching your own.  Janie)

As my 40^th high school reu­nion was approaching, I really wasn’t sure I wan­ted to go.

The 10^th was cer­tainly disap­poin­ting:  the for­mer cli­ques just see­med to draw together like metal filings to a mag­net. Zzzzzzzzz­zuippp   And the image of “high school class­mate A”  smac­king away on her pink gum like a 28 year old teeny­bop­per just put the pro­ver­bial exc­la­ma­tion mark on my disgust.

So when the 20^th, and later the 30^th arri­ved, I had sound excu­ses: I was moving into a new house not only during both years, but in the same months. Phooey on high school reunions.

So here it was approaching all over again: a high school reu­nion with the mas­sive 40^th in front of it.  There was no house relo­ca­tion going on.  So my other excu­ses not-to-go flo­wed with ease: I don’t want to watch the clique-zzzuip.  I’ve lived away from Dallas for too long. My memo­ries of high school were not too plea­sant. I don’t have any strong con­nec­tions to old class­ma­tes. My life has moved on. Yada, yada, yada.

But I got weak.

The first crack in my nega­tive resolve was my rea­li­za­tion that perhaps I just could form new friendships with for­mer high school class­ma­tes as one adult to another.  That was an exci­ting thought. If I had come a long, long way since those secon­dary school days, so could others.

The second crack was the rea­lity of decea­sed parents, a brother whom I never see, three sons living far away in three dif­fe­rent direc­tions, and the dread­lock, hug-a-tree hippie-dom of where we live, which had not pro­ved to be the best place to find sti­mu­la­ting adult friendships with com­mon backgrounds.

Besi­des, wouldn’t it be inte­res­ting, as the third and final crum­ble, to find out how ever­yone really is all these years later.  Face­book was already giving me a peek at that.  And this time, I was not plan­ning on sit­ting around “watching”.  I was going to put my hand out, wear my genuine smile, and say “How­do­yado?” to as many as I could.

And I did just that.

I arri­ved at the Dallas Hil­ton hotel as exci­ted as a pea­cock in full plume. And to make a full wee­kend of events short, my highest expec­ta­tions were met.

• I was proud to see cer­tain class­ma­tes, who might have swum in bit­ter­ness about their challenging/lonely/miserable high school expe­rien­ces, be right there with cou­rage and glory in their own value as an equal adult.
• I was impres­sed to see many for­mer shy and quiet high school class­ma­tes be just as social and out­going as their more demons­tra­tive classmates.
• I was in awe to dis­co­ver how this per­son or that, who really didn’t stand out in high school, had in fact achie­ved some impres­sive career goals and finan­cial rewards far above many of us.
• I was relie­ved to dis­co­ver how friendly many still were, or how friendly others had become in the matu­rity of adulthood.

Did I see those same old click-zzzuips?? Yup. There were still a few who nee­ded to lock emo­tio­nal arms against the crowd of other class­ma­tes. But those were the vast mino­rity, as clearly, most “got it” that there were trea­su­res to be had in get­ting to know other class­ma­tes.  I hope I made that clear in my social but­terfly rounds, and it didn’t pass me by that seve­ral others did the same.  I appre­cia­ted you.

As others have expres­sed on Face­book, it was a wee­kend I didn’t want to end. I wan­ted more small gathe­rings so I could have a chance to find out where you lived, what you’ve been doing, who you are. And I wan­ted time to tell you the same about me. But it appears that will take more gathe­rings. And this time, I’m coming.

When it was all ending, and many of us were crip­pling back to our hotels rooms in the wee hours of the mor­ning from the lounge on the 18^th floor open after-party,  it cer­tainly daw­ned on a few of us how MUCH peo­ple mis­sed by not coming. And it daw­ned on me what “I” would have mis­sed by not coming: rene­wing old friendships I had for­got­ten about, making new friendships that will mean a lot to me in the ensuing years, fin­ding out how silly some of the past really was, and fee­ling really proud of what I have become, as well as what others have become.

Oh, and let me not hesi­tate to men­tion that there was a freeing and humo­rous bene­fit of going to one’s 40^th reu­nion: that those Bar­bie doll and Fonzy bodies are prac­ti­cally no more. Yup, we all do share the fruits of time, whether it be those delight­ful under upper arm wings, sen­suous sag­ging chins, happy boun­ti­ful bellies, cot­tage cheese thighs, and/or our own ver­sions of Shar Pei wrin­kles.   

I almost made a huge mis­take by not coming. But thank good­ness, like so many others, I had reached a pin­nacle in my adulthood to know how impor­tant and worthwhile it might be to come back, as well as to take a pro-active stance to the entire event.  And I’m glad it did.

Love and warm thoughts to my high school class­ma­tes of Tho­mas Jef­fer­son High School! RRREB-BBBEL-REB-BEL-REBELS!