The Good Now Days

As much as I can appreciate nostalgia - I lived and breathed Happy Days throughout elementary school, plus I was a " '50s girl" for at least three Halloweens in a row - and as fondly as I recall forced trips to Mount Rushmore and Disneyland and Texas throughout my childhood, I do really really like my life now as an adult.

I enjoy such grown-up perks as driving and voting and drinking [though not at the same time, of course. Except maybe always sometimes usually a glass of wine when filling in my ballot.] It's satisfying to know all the stuff that comes from earning diplomas as well as spending dozens of years working field labor, retail, food service, and teaching (oddly similar experiences, actually). And even though I now I have to deal with graver concerns than whether or not a certain boy acknowledged me in Algebra (Brian Wood), I am pretty relieved that I don't ever have to take Algebra ever again.

As I prepared for our 25th class reunion, I found myself thinking about my time in high school. Generally, it was an okay few years; I had the same kind of angsty drama that most teenagers do about hair, clothes, guys, grades [probably in that exact order]. But I realized as I scanned pictures for name tags that while I knew most of my classmates by face & name, I didn't have many real memories of those people - I could not conjure more than a handful of actual stories involving any of them. I had general impressions - mostly positive, some a bit suspect as I realize they were based on a naive 17-year-old's perspective. Still, I got a little panicky; would they remember me as aloof, stuck-up, a nerdy weirdo? Or worse - would they not remember me at all? I resolved to stay upbeat about the weekend because, at the very least, my best friends about whom I can recall many (mostly embarrassing) details would be there for me.

The first people to arrive at Friday's event were some of the very classmates I was worried about, yet I took a deep breath, greeted them warmly, and found that I was genuinely happy to see them even if I still couldn't think of a single interaction from 25 years ago. All that mattered is the fact that we shared space in our claustrophobic small town during the most insecure time of our lives, and we survived to adulthood. Where we can now drive whenever & wherever we want, talk politics meaningfully, and share a legal drink.

A toast, friends, to Now.

Hope to see you in October.