High School Reunion; What Remains the Same

A week ago, I attended my 30th high school reunion. I graduated in the mid 80’s when Madonna, the late, great Prince, and “new wave” music were flooding the scene. Back then we were a sweaty, hormonal, swirling mass of leg warmers, headbands, asymmetrical hairstyles, neon clothes, high-top Reebok’s, popped collars, fake ID’s, and black rubber bracelets. We grew up in a town where every kid seemingly took swimming lessons at Lynn Deming park and had Mr. Ryder for Gym class at East Street School. We climbed the tank on the green, went to CCD at St. Francis, and came of age during covert keg parties in the woods at Clatter Valley. I can’t believe it’s been 30 years.

A high school reunion means different things to different people. It could mean excitement and a desire to reconnect with smiling, familiar faces, or perhaps it’s an event that fills us with trepidation and dread. Maybe we weren’t too cool for school way back when, and our memories aren’t quite as fond.   

In any case, a reunion is a milestone in life. I always go. I really do enjoy seeing the people I grew up with. We share history. Our stories are both loosely and tightly woven. Together, we marched in the Memorial Day Parade as girl scouts or members of Mr. Anderson’s Schaghticoke Middle School band. We went to now closed JPS where we were greeted each day by a giant, paper mache dinosaur. Our high school stood up on a hill and we painted slogans on the roadways, created floats for homecoming games, and ran the dreaded mile up around the tennis courts. We made out and felt each other up on the grassy knoll that led to the football field.

We worked at Bradlees, and Steve’s Diner, and Stop ‘N Shop. With lips like sugar (sugar kisses), we pushed our love over the borderline, and we laughed in the purple rain. And even though we all seem to have Facebook, and other social media platforms, a high school reunion is personal re-connection with actual talking, drinking and dancing. And it’s important. It’s a chance to mingle again, to bond again, and to have our lives intertwine again, if only for a night. It’s another small moment in time, but a moment nonetheless.

What struck me right away was that while so much has changed for all of us, so much has remained the same. The turn out was low, which was a disappointment, but guess who showed up?  The Life of the Party. The Class Clown. The Salutatorian. The Rowdiest. The Class Musician. The Best Tressed. The Done Most For Class. The Nicest Smile. The Biggest B.S.er. The Class Blusher. The Best Looking. The Most Artistic. and The Most Likely to Succeed. The Superlatives showed solidarity with strong representation. Way back when, we really hit the nail on the head, because these people haven’t changed much.

A group of women I graduated with decided it would be fun to gather in the morning before the reunion for a run. And though we all weren’t “best friends” in high school, we all grew up together. We shared a lot of the same experiences with teachers and classmates. Our memories of the “not so great” variety have mellowed with time. There was a genuine friendliness and camaraderie among us. Years and distance and time and maturity bundled together to create quite a nice group of lovely ladies.

Our common ground now includes running, and it felt great to re-connect in that way. It was a sweet moment that strengthened my own resolve with fitness. It also added a boost to my commitment to live my life in a friendlier, open and more connected way. It’s more important than ever to talk, laugh, dance, and run with people who really know us and who are our friends. People who have always known us and have always been our friends. To my running ladies, please consider this a rather public thank you for that experience. You are all fabulous, and more importantly, strong.

One of our friends made “medals” to give out, inscribed with ’86 FUN RUN on the front. Every time I look at it I smile. At our core we will always be those rowdy, young, fresh faced girls who just wanna (we just wanna) have fun. And run. Moments like these are what fortify my soul as I move forward in life. More, please. #grateful

And, as it always does, time marches on. Again, I can’t believe it’s been 30 years since we threw our graduation caps in the air and set off to discover the world. Hungry, like wolves, we set off to discover ourselves.

But the crux of it, the truth of it, is what a reunion blatantly reveals: We are all still just people.

We are successful, smart people. We are battered, bruised, and complicated people. We are people who have hit rock bottom, and we are people who have managed to rise up. Some of us scarred, and some of us unscathed. Regardless of circumstances, we have all experienced our fair share of stumbles and bumps. We have literally and figuratively weathered the years. Some of us have reached the summit and some of us are still climbing. Sadly, some of us didn’t make it. And though we have indeed changed, some of us still crave attention and some of us still want to hide. The clown is still a clown. Todd is still Todd. I’m still ridiculous in social settings. And Patty is still the queen.

We’re older now, but our childlike hearts, filled with love and wonder, are still beating and young. Our need to be known and feel accepted, remains the same. The New Milford High School class of 1986 will be forever familiar. Between our present lives and our history, there will always be a bridge.

And no matter where we are, or how far away we go, we can cross that bridge and simply come home. Home is the feeling that remains the same.