November is a popular month for high school reunions. One reason, I believe, is that people "go home" for Thanksgiving. Thus, by going home, they are usually in the vicinity of "the old neighborhood". Therefore locals and out of towners usually can spare six to eight hours from the Thanksgiving weekend to spend time with people they have not seen in 10, 20 or 30 years.
When I received notices about the OPHS Class of '82 - TWENTY year reunion, I was in shock. I could not fathom that it was almost 20 years that I sauntered across the stage at Pontiac Standium and received my diploma. I wanted to go yet I did not want to go. I mentioned my dilemma to an older woman and she said, "People mature after twenty years. Maybe not ten years but twenty years for sure." Ok, so that was a plus. Alisa, my dear friend and sidekick especially during the "high school days", tried every convincing line to get me to commit to attend the reunion.
I had a list of excuses: "I cannot go - I need to lose weight!" "Perhaps it will be canceled because not enough people will purhcase the tickets." I wanted my other friends, Collette and Sheri to join us - make this a team effort. No, they could not make it. Finally, I decided. I called Alisa and said, "Fine. I will go". I smiled as I said it. Since Alisa was willing to drive in from Chicago - then I was willing to attend this affair.
A week before the reunion , I was testing out different color coordinations of make-up. I already had the outfit. Of course, one wants to look good and why not? Saturday arrived and I was ansty. Had the butterflies in my tummy just like I did on the first day of kindergarten. Why was I so nervous? I am sure I was not the only person feeling this way but that was no consulation at the moment.
I picked Alisa up (just like I did in high school but I was not late this time!) at her cousin's house.
Since I was planning to drive to the location, I had my Journey CD ready to play WHOSE CRYING NOW as soon as the car started. However, Alisa wanted to drive. Ok, I could deal without listening to Steve Perry belt out lyrics. I sat down in her car and I heard a ripppp. The slit in my skirt tore. Now the slit was very high. We had to go back inside and sew the skirt. Great way to begin the evening.
When we arrived at the function, all of my worries just melted away. The once 18 year old students transformed into grown ups!! Pretty women adorned in dressy outfits and dresses, handsome men with "distinguished looking" grey hair at the temples, shouts of "Oh my gosh, is that so and so?", lots of hugs, smiles and thoughout the evening, I would hear people delivering sincere compliments to each other.
Alisa and I split up for a while, (just like we used to do when we went out shopping or played video games at the Space Station) and spoke to different people. I shared a very long conversation with someone I never even talked during the years at Oak Park High. All in all, it was a great time. In fact, we stayed until the end - !
Moral of the story - Live for the day and listen to your friend - you're bound to have fun!
When I received notices about the OPHS Class of '82 - TWENTY year reunion, I was in shock. I could not fathom that it was almost 20 years that I sauntered across the stage at Pontiac Standium and received my diploma. I wanted to go yet I did not want to go. I mentioned my dilemma to an older woman and she said, "People mature after twenty years. Maybe not ten years but twenty years for sure." Ok, so that was a plus. Alisa, my dear friend and sidekick especially during the "high school days", tried every convincing line to get me to commit to attend the reunion.
I had a list of excuses: "I cannot go - I need to lose weight!" "Perhaps it will be canceled because not enough people will purhcase the tickets." I wanted my other friends, Collette and Sheri to join us - make this a team effort. No, they could not make it. Finally, I decided. I called Alisa and said, "Fine. I will go". I smiled as I said it. Since Alisa was willing to drive in from Chicago - then I was willing to attend this affair.
A week before the reunion , I was testing out different color coordinations of make-up. I already had the outfit. Of course, one wants to look good and why not? Saturday arrived and I was ansty. Had the butterflies in my tummy just like I did on the first day of kindergarten. Why was I so nervous? I am sure I was not the only person feeling this way but that was no consulation at the moment.
I picked Alisa up (just like I did in high school but I was not late this time!) at her cousin's house.
Since I was planning to drive to the location, I had my Journey CD ready to play WHOSE CRYING NOW as soon as the car started. However, Alisa wanted to drive. Ok, I could deal without listening to Steve Perry belt out lyrics. I sat down in her car and I heard a ripppp. The slit in my skirt tore. Now the slit was very high. We had to go back inside and sew the skirt. Great way to begin the evening.
When we arrived at the function, all of my worries just melted away. The once 18 year old students transformed into grown ups!! Pretty women adorned in dressy outfits and dresses, handsome men with "distinguished looking" grey hair at the temples, shouts of "Oh my gosh, is that so and so?", lots of hugs, smiles and thoughout the evening, I would hear people delivering sincere compliments to each other.
Alisa and I split up for a while, (just like we used to do when we went out shopping or played video games at the Space Station) and spoke to different people. I shared a very long conversation with someone I never even talked during the years at Oak Park High. All in all, it was a great time. In fact, we stayed until the end - !
Moral of the story - Live for the day and listen to your friend - you're bound to have fun!
1 comment:
Darn tootin'! That reunion was one of the best times I've had! Time is the great equalizer - everyone matures, and those who don't are now the ones who are out of place.
And I can think of one person in particular who still hasn't seemed to grow up very much. Suffice it to say that I wouldn't let him touch my metatarsals with a 10-foot pole!
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