Class of ’85 Reunion. 25 Years Already? How’d That Happen So Fast?

When we went on vacation last month, the neighbor girl took care of the cat, the guineas and the garden. As I handed her instructions and the keys, I told her that in 25 years it will be her telling the just-graduated-from-high-school-kid how to feed the cat and water the ferns. She laughed. My wheels rolled backwards and yet again, I realized that just a few days ago, I was 17 too.

So, my 25th high school reunion is this month. I am headed to New Jersey with the kid and the dog. I think this is where I thought I’d end up. Maybe not this exact “this,” but pretty close.

I truly wanted to take my neighbor kid —  who leaves for college next month — by the hand, sit her down, and tell her some stuff. Tell her stuff that I’ve learned, stuff that helped me grow, stuff to avoid — I have a long list of that kind of stuff. I wanted to tell her there is no such thing as failure, no such thing as fear. “Jump in!” I wanted to say. I wanted to tell her that brokenness is a good thing, for it strengthens; that people don’t really suck; and that she should under no circumstance wear rompers or shoulder pads.

Thinking a lot about it, I realize I am basically the same kid I was then, but with less fear. I still stack too much, still put things off until the last minute, still talk too much when I am nervous. But, the cool thing about this current space is that I know myself more. Doubts are few, self-acceptance is for real. (I wouldn’t put my crazy on YouTube if I was less than confident, or too worried about others.) Yes, I’d like to work on that stacking thing, but there’s time.

I said nothing to the neighbor kid about any of that though. I know she probably thinks I am old, doesn’t know that I remember 17, that if I close my eyes, I can practically touch it. She has a path she must walk and any warning or “wisdom” from me is basically irrelevant. Time has taught me that.

Anyway, lots of people have told me lately they never go to their reunions. I enjoy mine. I liked high school.

And, hell, this may be the last one I attend without the help of hair dye or botox, so I am sure as hell going.

Do you go to your reunions? What the hell have you learned since high school?

By the way, notice my “Carrie” name necklace? I was so ahead of that Bradshaw chick.

Flashback: Some 1985 Music!

1985 was the year of Phil Collins. Easy Lover, Sussudio, and One More Night, which was our Prom Theme. Eh. But, here are a few of videos that transport me. And, while I am not embedding it, check out Howard Jones’ hair in Things Can Only Get Better. It would have been a better prom theme!

I took a lot of pictures for the senior yearbook. My own camera was used for this one taken in English class. I still talk in class.