Tag Archives: high school

Reunion…

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This weekend the Westmar High School Class of 1996 will celebrate its 15-year reunion. A decade and a half. Three lustra. Fifteen years. Nothing in terms of geologic time, of course, but long enough in the hear-and-now world. These five year anniversaries are as good a time for reflection as any and you know from reading that I’m not one to let a good anniversary pass without saying something sappy about it. So here it is …

I have a confession to make. I don’t feel all that different from the much younger version of myself. The thinking part of my brain keeps insisting that I should. That I should maybe feel like more of an adult somehow. I’ve added some paunch around the middle and lost more hair around the top, but I really feel pretty much like the same guy I was then. I mostly like the same food. I mostly like the same music (don’t judge me). A lot of the things that were important to me then are still the ones that are important to me now. Maybe I’m a little more moderate in my politics than I was when I was 18 and knew everything, but that doesn’t seem to make much difference because ultimately, I’m still me at the core.

I know there are plenty of Wildcats from that long-ago class who have their own high school age kids. There’s a thought that sticks with you. Surely they feel different, right? Metaphysically changed somehow by the passage of years and accretion of responsibility? I’ve been out there and seen whole big swaths of the world. I feel like I’ve seen it all… and I’ve mostly done it all. Sometimes to my own detriment, but always good for a “life experience” credit. I’ve done great things and I’ve had my self confidence shattered. Hell, sometimes it’s happened on the same day. But through it all, I don’t feel any different. Same guy, just with a few added layers of experience.

I get up in the morning, put on a sharp shirt and a tie and spend eight hours pretending that I’m a knowledgeable professional… but at heart I’m still the same guy who mostly wants to hang out with his friends and stay up too late shooting pool or sneak up to Frostburg to see a girl. Under the thin veneer of adulthood, I still like driving too fast and going to Denny’s at odd hours. If having a house, holding a steady job, and paying your bills is the defining characteristic of being “grown,” I’ve got it covered. If it’s some deeper change in your psyche, well, that’s a little more problematic.

It’s one of those deep thoughts I have lying in bed before sleep comes: Am I the only one who feels this way? Is everyone else really an adult inside their own head and I’m the only one who feels like he’s playing a part just well enough not to get caught? Maybe I am… in which case this entire post as served as nothing other than a 500-word admission of guilt. Surely I’m not the only one out there faking it, right? Even if we’re all not kids any more, I’m looking forward to seeing the old gang again.

Camelot…

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I ponder things. While I don’t consider myself a great thinker or rhetorician, I do like to spend time thinking about the world around me and my own observations of it. Over the weekend, one observation that has stuck with me and given me some pause, is the size of a band I use to call my own. In 1996, we were a group of 40 musicians and 8 or 9 color guard. Not a large group, but in a school with a total population of around 400, it was respectable enough. To say that the current group is a shell of its former self would be misleading at best. With 7 instrumentalists and 2 color guard, they are a walking shadow of what was once a championship-winning organization. Surprisingly, it’s not just my old group that has been diminished, but also groups that we once competed head-to-head with every week. Groups that were once 150+ members barely muster 50.

I wonder if it’s the same in other extra-curriculars. What we use to do required hours of practice, sometimes mind-numbing repetition of the same eight measures to begin closing in on perfection. Mostly, it required dedication and a willingness to allow the requirements of the group to subsume personal preferences and agendas. Is it a sign of the times that these kind of activities no longer attract the best and the brightest to the fold? A larger question is whether this decline is representative only of one economically depressed region or if similar observations could be made across wide swaths of the country.

I don’t want to be one of those people who spends a lot of time talking about how we had to work so much harder, but I don’t shrink from asserting that we did it better.

Last night I had the opportunity to talk to an individual whose opinion and respect I value highly. Unprompted, he mentioned much the same thing I had been thinking. Shaking his head as he walked away, he mentioned only that we had been in a special time and place those years ago and we would likely never see anything quite like them again.

Reunion (Part 2)…

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Bottom line up front: I’m still hung over from last night. Chalk that up to a reminder that I don’t drink like that… anymore.

Outside of a mild headache and a case of cottonmouth that several liters of water has failed to quench, I am pleased to report that last night was simply smashing. I suppose it was everything a reunion is supposed to be… catching up with old friends, meeting significant others, telling stories (and a few tall tales), and general merry-making.

The beginning was awkward, as they always seem to be… No one seems to know quite what to say after “what do you do” or “how are the kids/parents?” A few rounds later, we’re laughing and joking like the old friends we are. Last night was the first time I saw one of my old golfing buddies since the night we graduated and it was amazing to see how we picked up the old comedy routine without skipping a beat. We could have been two kids back to school after summer vacation rather than the two approaching-30 professionals that we are.

I’ve always known where I was going, but I realize now that it’s good to be reminded from time to time, where you’re from.

P.S. In case any one is wondering, there is no need to ware a coat and tie to dinner at the Midland Fire Hall… although it is a quick way to make sure you’ll take it to the drycleaner the next day.

P.P.S. There are a goodly number of stories I could write based on this one theme, but for the time being, they are still a little fresh in the memory for public consumption. Perhaps more to follow.

Reunion…

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I’m heading back to the hills of Western Maryland tomorrow to attend the Class of 96 Reunion over the weekend. To say I have mixed emotions about the experience would be an understatement. Everyone I have talked to has said that the ten-year is still too soon to garner the “reunion” atmosphere… people haven’t changed all that much, everyone is just starting to make their mark, and put down roots. A huge part of me is looking forward to the event. I have great memories of the people and places from “back in the day.” Another part of me is more hesitant, concerned that the scars of childhood are not well enough healed to expose to the open air.

Nevertheless, I’ll be there with proverbial bells on Saturday night. I took my own little trip down memory lane a few weekends ago and dug the old yearbooks and “memory book” out of storage. I laughed myself silly, thought of people I haven’t seen since the night we graduated, and sat amazed at how young we looked… Well, not so much me… damn hairline never could stay in place, anyway. 😉

P.S. Does anyone know what the hell you’re supposed to wear to an event at the Midland Fire Hall? I can’t bring myself to do jeans and I’d feel like a tool wearing a suit. I guess I was never a fashion plate back then, so maybe some of ya’ll will recognize me this weekend.