back to school

I was a little amazed when I was asked to help with my 20 year high school reunion. Although I spent years with these folks–the cheerleaders, the jocks, the scholars, the stoners–I always felt like an outsider. In my own personal version of "The Breakfast Club," I suppose I would have been the geeky "Brian" character...perhaps a little more arty than brainy, but I definitely would have been the one stuck with writing the report while the rest of the group hooked up. Back then, I think I could have called all 370+ of my classmates by name, but could not with confidence have counted even a handful as close friends.

As a result of the house fire a few years ago, I literally have no physical evidence of those formative years...no dance pictures, yearbooks, report cards or awards. And over the years, many of the memories have also dissipated like smoke. But, being a loyal Highland Ram, I got over my social anxiety and agreed to assist with the reunion. I emailed and telephoned my fair share of names on the missing classmates list. I gathered items, printed and planned. I drove 3 hours roundtrip to weekly meetings at our class president's house. And the more we met, the more I seriously contemplated the possibility that I must have been home-schooled. Other than walking the same locker lined hallways, I didn't have the same memories of High School that all of those moms and dads in the room did.

At 7:00 sharp, on the Alumni night of the reunion, all of the popular kids walked in, pressed and poised–even smelling expensive. Stinky and sweaty, dirty and dreary from schlepping tables, chairs, food and memorabilia out into the courtyard, for hours in the August afternoon sun...Lisa (my one social confidant) and I faded into the back. Distant hugs reminded us we were a little out of place, back then, and now again, 20 years later.

But, more than dwelling on the feelings of my introverted misfit past, I found that I was sincerely interested in these familiar strangers. Many had been dealt some difficult hands in life. All were interesting, and I was sincerely happy to see each and every one. I got "out of my 16-year-old head" and as a result, was able to see who these people were for me. Collectively, we provided the background, the context, for all of us stepping out into the world. We prepared each other with skills to deal with life's adventures. And amazingly, produced some incredibly accomplished and resilient souls. So, to that I say, more than thanks for the memories–thanks for the experience. High School really was the training ground for life.