I think that people can often be put into two camps: those who go to their high school reunions and those who don’t.
I thought seriously about breaking out of my mold, those who don’t go to their reunions, since it will be my 50th this year.
I am unsure about that and the more I think about it, the more I question why I would even consider it.
My academic career is pretty much what saved me, providing me with the strokes and the incentives I needed. Deep down, I longed for more than what my blue collar background was providing me with and my family seemed more than pleased that I had the success I did and that I would go to college.
My parochial school moments, like those of my secondary school, provided me with a lot of good instruction. When it comes to emotional sustenance and even counsel in regards to my future, I would say that my entire pre-university educational situation was lackluster, if not incomplete. I would also say that I am being, perhaps too nice. I still remember the name of my high school counselor: Polly O’Hill, a woman who provided me with little guidance. I somehow managed to contact colleges and figure out what I needed to do with little help from her. Given my academic average, one would have thought that she might have provided me with more help, especially since I was the first of the family to even think about going to college, but that, if my memory serves me correctly, was not the case. I was never informed of my real possibilities.
Happily, the academic side got me through school because the intermittent bullying that started when I was in elementary school and blossomed when I was in high school, could have shut me down. I had no one to turn to, having a sadly cold, uninvolved mom, no dad, and no one to really speak to about my issues. It didn’t help that I was a late bloomer and that I had jumped ahead from the beginning of second grade to the third.
For whatever reason, despite the fact that I am a person who generally stays in touch with my connections, I didn’t get an invitation to my 50th reunion and somehow did a bit of research and found someone on Facebook who is involved in it. Despite my contact with her, I never got my paper invitation (it was not her fault) even after contacting her, apparently my request fell through the cracks. My Parma Heights, Ohio reunion is in the hands of several people who are clearly immigrants to the Technology age, which doesn’t help.They are sadly not seemingly interested in sharing whatever info they even have.
I finally got some info recently about several people I would love to see. I was old that one of them passed away and the others have not yet stated that they are attending the September 14th event. A day or two later I received an apology as the friend who had supposedly passed away is alive and living in Georgia.
When I left my high school, I was done with that part of my life. This is the way I am. The only person from my high school I am in contact with is someone who attended my college and spent the academic year in France with me. I got back in touch with her on Facebook, which has been wonderful. Unfortunately, she is not going.
At this point, given the signals I have been receiving, I am guessing that attending is not on the horizon.