May the Trojan torch burn brightly
What a weekend.
Today I returned from Tulsa, where Jenks High School's class of 1995 convened for its 10-year reunion.
I embarked on this trip with a considerable amount of anxiety. Now, I'm pretty pleased with what I've accomplished so far: I'm healthy and happy, and I have an interesting job that I'm usually pretty good at. But after hearing through friends and the Internet what some of my classmates were up to these days (our class produced an inordinate number of doctors and lawyers), I worried that I wouldn’t measure up. Add to that a keen awareness that I’ve gained weight since high school and a fear that I’ve aged more rapidly than some, and I was more than a little nervous. Still, I wanted to go. I’ve accumulated enough regrets over the years; why add to the list unnecessarily?
Friends who’ve already attended their 10-year reunions told me what to expect from my peers: weight gain, balding, revelations of past crushes. I truly expected to see major physical changes, but by and large everyone looked the same or better. Most of the women grew more attractive in the last 10 years, as did many of the men. People were cordial and inquisitive, and most seemed genuinely pleased to see everyone after all this time.
One thing stood out to me: Everyone is married! A lot of people didn’t bring their spouses, but almost everyone has one! It’s remarkable. Furthermore, almost everyone seems to have children! I note this with a mixture of happiness and melancholy. I grew up with these people, and they’re woven into the fabric of my early memories: recess, field trips to the nature center, the May pole dance, class plays, choir performances, assemblies, drivers ed, prom. It’s hard to put them in the context of adulthood. The last time I saw most of them, we were still kids, and now they’re raising children of their own. I suppose the door to my youth has been closing all along, but this reunion seems to have slammed it shut.
The actual reunion was well worth the $75 ticket (though most of us were wondering exactly what all that money paid for – dinner wasn’t very elaborate, and the drinks not only weren’t free, but they also were ridiculously overpriced), but the most rewarding moments of the weekend were those spent with a handful of dear people: Erin, Christine, Renee, Julie and Stephen ...
... and Ronja and Joel.
They’ve all changed in subtle ways, but the important – and endearing – aspects of their characters are still there.
I’ll leave you with a compelling question Joel posed during our post-reunion assessment of the evening: What’s one quality you’ve retained from your youth?