2.2 KiB
title, date, permalink, tags
| title | date | permalink | tags | |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Reunited | 2005-06-21T19:35:21-04:00 | /reunited/ |
|
So the storied twenty-one year high school reunion has come and gone. And I have to say, I had way more fun than I imagined I would. It was a bit of a blur — there are dozens of people I’d have liked to spend more time talking to, but barely got past “omigod! hi!” with. But a few highlights:
— On a rough estimate, I’d say that 50% of my class looks really extremely good for our collective advancement in age. Perhaps 20% looked way older than we actually are. I’m not sure if those numbers are representative or not.
— Another rough estimate: I think about 80% of my class has kids. Maybe more. I’m just now at the point in my life where I don’t find the fact of my friends getting pregnant somewhat scandalous, so I’m a bit surprised by the number of them who have apparently done so. In the end, I think this reveals much more about me than about anyone else.
— My class produced what seems to me an inordinate number of lawyers. I have no idea what that’s all about. To my knowledge, there are only four academics, of whom three showed up.
— My boyfriend from my senior year in high school is now a plastic surgeon. And the class heartthrob — blond, blue-eyed, athletic, perfect teeth, just generally drop-dead gorgeous — is an OB-GYN. I don’t know what to make of that at all.
— My brain is apparently only capable of holding so much information. And I’m curious how it selects what it’s going to hold onto. For instance, I spot a woman across a crowded hallway, a woman who wasn’t in my high-school circle of friends, at all, and my brain immediately kicks up her first and last name. But another woman, whom I’d had several classes with, and who I think may well have lived on my hall during my first year of college, has to introduce herself to me. (And my ever-so-slick response is an exclaimed “I remember you!” To which she says, “gee, thanks.” Yeesh.)
— Maybe it’s just me. But on the off chance it’s not: you know that person to whom you’ve owed an apology for 21 years? I got a chance to make that apology. I may or may not tell the story another time.