A couple of weekends ago I had the occasion to run Into a
bunch of old classmates from my Our Lady of Mercy grammar school days, some
nearly 40-45 years or so removed from when I had last seen most of them.
And yes…how is that possible for folks as young as we?
The funny thing is I wasn’t planning on doing anything like
that; it just sort of happened.
In a nut shell, a group of industrious OLM alumni organized
and hosted a come one come all
reunion and invited anyone and everyone who had ever attended the school…except
for me…and a few other local classmates.
My Uncle Jim, from the class of 38 was invited, as well
as—rumor has it— Ed Sullivan, a notable OLM/St. Mary’s alum who still has a
very active social media presence, even though he’s been dead since 1974.
Apparently, dead or alive, these days if you’re not on
Facebook, or Classmates.com, you can’t be found, which I guess also points to
just how well read these columns are.
Not that I really wanted to be found because, let’s face it,
there are only so many apologies a person can offer in a night.
But still….
The truth is, reunions of any sort have always been
frightening to me, therefore I’ve always made sure to avoid them. I have a hard
enough time being with family on Thanksgiving so the idea of gathering in a room
with a bunch of people I haven’t talked to or seen since I was 14 was
unimaginable.
But, as fortune would have it, one of our old buddies had
flown in from out of town to attend the event and told some other folks he met
there that a few of us—“the shunned alum”
as we had now taken to calling ourselves—were hanging at another establishment
from our past, telling the same tired stories we’ve been telling each other for
the last several decades.
To make a long story short, which by now is impossible, a
massage/yoga therapist from both the past, and the party, suddenly materialized
at our table of recluses and attempted to cajole us into joining her and
several other of our classmates for an informal after-reunion gathering at
Arrosto, the former Saw Pit restaurant.
After much hemming and hawing, and a few more beers—because
hemming makes you thirsty and hawing is just plain weird—we finally agreed to
join her, mostly because she was nice enough to track us down, even pretending
to recognize us—Facebook be damned.
Plus, she threatened to beat us all up, if we didn’t come, something
this particular person was prone to do back in the day, but which we didn’t
mind since it was the only time we could get a girl to stand that close to us.
So reluctantly we went…onward into the past.
As you might imagine, the whole experience was somewhat odd,
weird, confusing and anxiety producing …all at the same time…but most of all—and
this is the most surprising part—it was fun.
Of course the first person I saw didn’t recognize me, and I
called her by the wrong name…but that was pretty much par for the course, that
night and 40 years ago, as well.
What can I say….it was a big class…times two.
The truth is, while many of the faces, shapes and hairstyles
had changed…. all the laughs remained the same.
There were always a few seconds of hesitation and puzzled
looks, but then, suddenly, you could actually hear the reconnections snapping
back into place all around the room.
Amazing, really, when you think about it, so I couldn’t help
wondering why this was… and then it hit me.
We were all kids
together. Each one of us, a connecting piece to the shared center of the
puzzle we now call our lives.
And, together, we
lived through a place and time where those 9 years was pretty much all we knew
of the world.
From scary nuns and teachers—to fire drills and air raid shelters.
From the excitement of space ships lifting off and flying to
the moon—to the confusion of war and assassinations.
From kick ball and the “Friday Night Thing” in the gym—to
our first dance in the auditorium, with Jesus between us, providing the proper spacing.
I close my eyes and they’re all still there…those reminiscent markers…and all those 14 year old faces.
our first dance in the auditorium, with Jesus between us, providing the proper spacing.
I close my eyes and they’re all still there…those reminiscent markers…and all those 14 year old faces.
We were kids together...and we always will be.
Kind of comforting in a way, because it’s good to know…we
really don’t wander far from the core…even though we might think we do.
So in the end, I’m glad I was “found” and happy to rediscover all those old connections.
None of us can be certain it will ever happen again, but at
least we know they’re there.
So what’s this
Facebook thing all about?
I ask people to be my
friend and hope they say yes?
Hmmmm…that does sound a lot like grammar school.
But I’m all grown up now…right?
I don’t know…maybe I should pass….
On Friday I'll even open up and share the autograph book......
More from the Archive of Retort:
"The Past Signs In"
"There's Always Some Nun to Blame"
On Friday I'll even open up and share the autograph book......
More from the Archive of Retort:
"The Past Signs In"
"There's Always Some Nun to Blame"
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At age 11 I was condemned to be a non-catholic. For 3&1/2 further years I languished in C of E secondary school. I don't get reunion invites either. Too busy doing without guilt anyway.
ReplyDeleteThe nice thing here was that it kind of highlighted that none of us were connected by any sort of ideology; religious political, what have you. Sure, we all had a shared base to start from, which was hammered into us, but everyone went off and made their own way with it. The connections obviously were about a lot more than that; in fact it wasn’t even in the mix.
Deletewho wouldn't say yes?
DeleteMy old orthodontist turned me down….
DeleteSomething about not wanting to rehash the past.
What can I say; I had a highly sensitive gag reflex….
"We lived through a place and time [which] was pretty much all we knew of the world." I ever thought of this before, but it is right on the mark. It really was a special time, not at all like the experience of high school. That was a period of great competition both academically and personally.
ReplyDeleteThing is we were only 14 but couldn’t wait to be 25; and in our heads that’s how we saw ourselves. Now I can see how we were really just kids pretending not to be….
DeleteBut that was the fun of it.
Now I’m just a grownup pretending not to be.
And that’s the fun of it, too.