Sunday, September 21, 2008

I think I know her...

     I went to my 20th high school reunion last night, and was shocked when a former classmate called me bored housewife! Thanks, John!  John and his wife, Shannon, have what sounds like a really cool glass blowing business in West Seattle that I am definitely going to visit the next time I'm up there.  I had a huge, embarrassing crush on John in the eighth grade, and I remember that he was very sweet about it and never hurt my feelings, not even when he invited my best friend to the eighth grade graduation dance.
     Anyway, the word for the whole evening was Didn't.  There were so many people I would have liked to see that didn't come.  Most of the people I hung out with didn't come actually, which left me with a few people who were lovely to talk to, but I missed my old friends.  Some of them said they "wouldn't be caught dead" at the reunion and I just don't get this.  There was nothing to fear.  A lot of the time, it felt like when you see someone you used to know, and you duck and hope they didn't see you because you don't really want to engage and you just know that you will remember them but they wont remember you and you'll end up feeling like some kind of stalker.  I learned, though, that instead of being seen as some obsessed fan, it is flattering when someone remembers you, makes a bee-line for you to tell you something they always wanted you to know, and from now on when I see someone at the mall who I know I know, I will make the approach.  It is fun to be reminded of things, like that one classmate and I had to be separated in English class because we jabbered all the time.  This same person told me that he and I were sweethearts at Ross Valley Nursery school which I had never known.  Another guy told me he remembers my coming up to his house when we were eight or nine with a soccer ball wanting to play and that he had thought at the time that I was brave; I remembered that he ate a hotdog with twenty-plus packets of mustard on it while the whole fifth grade classroom looked on, and he had to stay home the following day because he broke out in hives.  He remembered this, too.
     I felt much the same as I did in high school: forgettable, a few memories with a few nice people, and skirting the edges of a group I really wasn't interested in joining.  I noticed that a lot of pain was revealed; classmates who had lost one or both parents, or who had been dealing with terrible situations at home.  I felt sad when I got home.  I spent some time looking through my yearbook and noticing all the things I Didn't do in high school.  No sports, only one student group, no homecoming games.  For a moment I felt sorry for my sixteen year-old self and then I realized I'm the same way now.  I am not naturally social, I am not a joiner, I like my few great friends and I crave solitude.  I thought about what I was doing while all those things I wasn't doing were going on, and I honestly can't remember.
     Somebody said to me last night that they were surprised that I am a housewife, and this person didn't say it like they were impressed.  They seemed to have expected more from me.  That's okay; I'm doing what I always wanted to do, but I'm not overly impressed, either.
     So that was the reunion I waited 20 years for.  My feet hurt and I'm a teensy bit hung over, but its all good.  Thanks Tommy and John, Kate and Leslie, Stephanie and Laura, Melissa and David and Tim for remembering me last night.  And to Rebecca and Courtney, Kevin and Aaron and Jason, Mia and Kathleen, Todd and Eva, I missed you guys.
     In other news, Leila lost a tooth the other day and got 11 quarters from the tooth fairy.  She rested them in the bathroom sink while she brushed her hair, and three of them went down the drain.  Its a metaphor for something, but I have no idea what.

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