Dear Readers,
Do you have any dates circled on your August calendar? Maybe the day you leave on vacation? Or the date of your root canal? Perhaps you have August 3rd circled to mark National Clean Your Floors Day or the 14th for National Tattoo Removal Day? The big red circle on my August calendar is the date of my 50th high school reunion.
To go or not to go: that is the question.
A reunion
Until recently, I was quite excited about the prospect of walking down memory lane in Fort Wayne, Ind., with old friends and former classmates. After all, in many ways, the more things change, the more they stay the same, right?
There were 535 of us in the R. Nelson Snider High School class of 1973; we were seniors then and we are seniors now; we received student discounts on movie tickets back then just like we receive senior discounts on movie tickets now.
Back then we were confident the best rock and roll of all time was being written; now, we can confirm that yes, the best rock and roll really was written back in the 70’s.
When we were 18, we waited up to party all night; now we wake up to . . . [insert similar word] . . . all night. Well, okay, some things have changed.
We used to type our term papers on mom’s manual typewriter and turn in paper copies, while today’s seniors in high school type their term papers on personal laptops or tablets and turn them in electronically! Or, they have ChatGPT do the assignment for them.
Fifty years ago, the most common reason for detention was chewing gum in class; today, the most common reason for detention is sneaking cell phones into the pocket of pajama pants (which, I am told, are common attire in classrooms these days).
Another big change in the last 50 years has been, believe it or not, in our appearance. I dug through a box in the attic the other day to retrieve my copy of the 1973 yearbook, The Safari.
Initially I enjoyed flipping through the pages to refresh my memory and to ensure I could match the names with the faces. That’s when it hit me! Those faces will have changed a lot. MY face has changed a lot, so it will not be easy to recognize people which will, in turn, undoubtedly lead to many awkward moments.
Perhaps, to prevent such moments, name tags could be
used proactively. Instead of just, “Hello! My name is Linda Erwin Kelly,” mine might read, “Hello! My name is Linda Erwin Kelly and I looked much better before raising 12 children.” (The fact that I have only raised three children is immaterial as each of my little dears gave me quadruple the amount of trouble other kids gave their parents).
To go or not to go: that is the question. Did you, dear Readers, go to your 50th? If so, did the bad memories come rushing back to outnumber the good ones?
Remembering high school
Until now, I had completely forgotten that cringe-worthy moment freshman year when I tripped rushing up the stairs to geometry class. I did not assess the damage until the bell rang, but when I was finally seated, I looked down to see a cascade of blood gushing from my knee — and I fainted.
I outdid myself sophomore year when, as a member of the Panther marching band’s baton twirling squad, during the homecoming halftime, I got too close to the drum major with my fire baton and set his hat on fire.
Then there was that humiliating incident when a large group of us were having dinner at the most expensive restaurant in town before junior prom when it came time for me to order.
“Soup or salad?” asked the waitress.
“Sure,” I replied.
“No,” the waitress raised her voice a bit. “I asked, ‘soup or salad?’”
“Yeah, I know,” I clarified, feeling a bit flustered. “And I said yes, I’ll have the super salad.”
I never lived that one down.
Then, senior year, there was that final performance of the spring musical, South Pacific, in which I (as nurse Nellie Forbush) sang, “I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Outta My Hair” while massaging a glob of Gillette Foamy shaving cream (to look like shampoo lather) on top of my head. One of the stage crew (very funny, Steve!) substituted the hair-removal product Nair for the shaving cream.
Wait a minute! Wait a minute!
I just noticed that August 12, in addition to being the date of my reunion, is also National Vinyl Record Day — the perfect day to relax at home and listen to some of those classic rock and roll albums saved from my youth and which are, by the way, now very much back in vogue!
To go or not to go? I think I’ll wait for my 60th.
Linda Kelly is a member of Blessed Sacrament Parish in Madison.