Reunion for a Nostalgia Whore
I’ve always been a bit of a nostalgia whore. As I’ve mentioned before, I have a tendency to romanticize the past and thus recreate my own history. That’s not entirely true, of course, but accurate enough. Until recent years, I always had trouble living in the present. I either looked to the future and how things would be so much better or I yearned for the past (which I never enjoyed at the time). It is likely that I saw myself as something of an enigma, when actually I was simply stupid. One of those “just can’t get comfortable in my own skin” kind of things. Never content or happy because I never figured out how to be either. We make our own happiness. Or we don’t. It’s a work in progress for most of us I think.
This year was to be my 20th high school reunion. While I can not explain it even to myself, I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time. My 10th reunion was nothing of greatness. Actually, it was only remotely enjoyable. But I like ceremony, and reunions bear that suggestion. Twenty years. Well, Christ! That’s something to celebrate. Who got fat? Who is bald? Who didn’t make it? Are any of us successful? Ten years ago I was voted most physically changed (hair to my ass and multiple earrings). Today, I look more my age and would likely be voted nothing more than present.
Well, as best I can tell, there will be no such formal 20th high school reunion. It would have taken place this summer and, from my radar screen, summer appears but a blip away. I am disappointed to say the least. But of the bad habits I’ve shed since those days, apathy is apparently not one of them. If a reunion was so important to me, then I should have stepped up and done something to make it happen. But I didn’t.
On this subject, I received an e-mail last night that made me smile. My friend, Scroggett (Phil), offered a solution to this problem so simple I should have tripped over it months ago. It boils down to Fuck a formal gathering! Let’s get our little clique together this September in Augusta and make our own reunion. There are many people I wouldn’t mind seeing. But the truth is, our clique was fairly small and extremely tight. I think it’s a great idea. The names that come immediately to mind are Phil, Rob, McDowell, Chris, David, Woo, Bobby. I could see the list growing or staying just like that. We’ll see. In the meantime, I’ll look forward to it.
High school was a strange time for me—as, I suppose, is most any time in a man’s life. And I look to it with like manner. Retrospect? 2020 hindsight? Dare I say, nostalgia? I made some of the best friends of my life during that time. But the education I received was mediocre at best. I spent much of my senior year partying with those friends—usually at Rob’s house in Evans. Then I had to tell most of them goodbye as we headed to different colleges/universities. I loved a girl then and sometimes I dream of her still. We went our separate ways too, our friendship not surviving. We had senior cut day and took pictures that I keep to this day. We shot fireworks inside Rob’s house one night. We glued an evil teacher’s door shut. We played pranks. We prepared for life after high school. I suppose in a way I still am.
September will probably happen. At least I hope so. I’ll certainly make the commitment as will Phil. We’ll get the word out and see where it takes us. Drinks and dinner and laughs. Phil has always been the most dependable one when it comes to photos—and God knows I love photos. I’ll look to him to capture our fun and excitement, our serious moments, our reunion of friends. I’ll return the favor, of course. And we’ll look to someone outside of the gathering to take a group picture. I’m anxious to see where we’ll go. As Phil suggested, The Partridge Inn and Vallarta’s? Metro?
I haven’t even let Phil know how pleased I am over his idea and here I am, returning lustily to my whoring ways.
This year was to be my 20th high school reunion. While I can not explain it even to myself, I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time. My 10th reunion was nothing of greatness. Actually, it was only remotely enjoyable. But I like ceremony, and reunions bear that suggestion. Twenty years. Well, Christ! That’s something to celebrate. Who got fat? Who is bald? Who didn’t make it? Are any of us successful? Ten years ago I was voted most physically changed (hair to my ass and multiple earrings). Today, I look more my age and would likely be voted nothing more than present.
Well, as best I can tell, there will be no such formal 20th high school reunion. It would have taken place this summer and, from my radar screen, summer appears but a blip away. I am disappointed to say the least. But of the bad habits I’ve shed since those days, apathy is apparently not one of them. If a reunion was so important to me, then I should have stepped up and done something to make it happen. But I didn’t.
On this subject, I received an e-mail last night that made me smile. My friend, Scroggett (Phil), offered a solution to this problem so simple I should have tripped over it months ago. It boils down to Fuck a formal gathering! Let’s get our little clique together this September in Augusta and make our own reunion. There are many people I wouldn’t mind seeing. But the truth is, our clique was fairly small and extremely tight. I think it’s a great idea. The names that come immediately to mind are Phil, Rob, McDowell, Chris, David, Woo, Bobby. I could see the list growing or staying just like that. We’ll see. In the meantime, I’ll look forward to it.
High school was a strange time for me—as, I suppose, is most any time in a man’s life. And I look to it with like manner. Retrospect? 2020 hindsight? Dare I say, nostalgia? I made some of the best friends of my life during that time. But the education I received was mediocre at best. I spent much of my senior year partying with those friends—usually at Rob’s house in Evans. Then I had to tell most of them goodbye as we headed to different colleges/universities. I loved a girl then and sometimes I dream of her still. We went our separate ways too, our friendship not surviving. We had senior cut day and took pictures that I keep to this day. We shot fireworks inside Rob’s house one night. We glued an evil teacher’s door shut. We played pranks. We prepared for life after high school. I suppose in a way I still am.
September will probably happen. At least I hope so. I’ll certainly make the commitment as will Phil. We’ll get the word out and see where it takes us. Drinks and dinner and laughs. Phil has always been the most dependable one when it comes to photos—and God knows I love photos. I’ll look to him to capture our fun and excitement, our serious moments, our reunion of friends. I’ll return the favor, of course. And we’ll look to someone outside of the gathering to take a group picture. I’m anxious to see where we’ll go. As Phil suggested, The Partridge Inn and Vallarta’s? Metro?
I haven’t even let Phil know how pleased I am over his idea and here I am, returning lustily to my whoring ways.
posted by Ryan at 2:40 PM
2 Comments:
Did you forget all of the John Hughes films? And here you are romanticizing high school. Seriously, there's something about revisiting those formative years that can be pretty compelling. I hope your small reunion happens.
Definitely, make it happen. I was on the committee for my 20th reunion and I took pictures of every table. Even though I only shared them with two people who hadn't been there it was still awesome to have them.
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