My 30-year high school reunion is this year.
|Me, typing my senior English paper. (I graduated a bit early.)|
On the other hand, hell yeah, I graduated in 1985. Which, objectively speaking, is the greatest year in the history of the Gregorian calendar.
|When people who could make their hair do this|
ruled the Earth. (Spoiler alert: I wasn't one of them.)
We had Live Aid.
We had Back to the Future, Goonies, Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome, Witness, and The Sure Thing.
|Which means I've been in love with John Cusack for 30 years.|
|This image IS the 80s.|
|Every nerd on "Square Pegs" was |
cooler than I was.
Anyway, back to the reunion.
I don't plan to attend.
I went to my 10-year reunion. It was...meh. On the plus side, I got a lot thinner and cuter in the decade after high school, and yeah, the double-takes I got from some people felt pretty damn good, I must admit. On the minus side, most of the people who attended the reunion were not my friends in high school and weren't about to become my friends just because we spent a weekend making small talk.
Also, I attended the funeral of one of my classmates the same weekend as the reunion. Kind of cast a pall on the whole idea of reunions in general.
And now we're all in our late 40s. I don't even want to think about how many divorces and plastic surgeries the Class of '85 has amassed. In a way I suppose I might derive pleasure from seeing how the jocks and the cheerleaders and the cool kids have become so many middle-aged suburbanites with middle-aged suburbanite problems. But not really. What's the point? I'm pretty comfortable in my skin, so why would I wish anything different for them?
|Schadenfreude just seems like an invitation to bad karma.|
It has to do with an amazing coincidence and an elusive opportunity to do something different the second time around.
I'll tell you about it tomorrow.