High School Reunions
Last weekend I missed a high school reunion thingy and it got me to thinking.First of all the reunion thingy was part of a 100th anniversary of the school not a class reunion, not sure why I am clarifying that part, but I am. My excuse for missing was a little slanted and certainly wasn't that good, but being 90 miles down the QEW with 5 kids under my guardianship and carting said children from town to berg and hamlet to village from 10 that morning until 8 that night was enough for me to say no.
Of course in this world where instant coffee has been replaced with instant gratification, it wasn't long past midnight that photos and stories started sailing across the lake, and those smiles and quotes did nothing but make me realize that I would regret missing this reunion for years to come.
Funny thing about reunions, and I've been thru a lot of school ones as I went to a lot of schools (read into that what you will, but my father was not an army man, read into again, it should make more sense this go round, after all, this is me we're talking about!).
I missed my 10 year college one because of my wedding, they held a 15 which coincided with a family reunion to celebrate my mom's life, yup, missed that one too...the school one that is. 20th? Away on business. 25th - wife away, Mr. Mom can't play. High school seemed easier to miss for me. At college I felt like someone. In high school, I was that awkward guy who went from class clown to class moron to village idiot three times a day, more if Dr. Kumra was teaching.
I didn't leave high school with the greatest of memories, nor did I feel that I was the worst of guys, I was, however, one of the most awkward of all.
To go to a reunion from those days seemed almost surrealistic to me. Without Facebook, I would have likely plodded through life not knowing anything about 99% of the people I went to school with. Funny thing is, I would have been fine with that. Facebook was once presented to me as “that website where everyone you knew and figured you didn’t want to know will get to know you.” That’s the new world – and I’ve embraced it thoroughly.
I’ve re-connected with a lot of friends from yore, and we’ve exchanged hi’s, how are ya’s, whatcha been upto’s and many other pleasantries, and for whatever reason I really get a kick out of it. Voyeuristic as it may appear, there’s something intriguing about peering into other’s lives undetected and seeing what’s become of them years or decades later. Then again, it’s only what they want you to see, they have, after all, invited you, and really they don’t care. Well at least we can suppose it’s more legit because of that.
Back to the reunion, all week long I’ve seen photos of people that I would love to catch up with, and it’s made me a little sad that I didn’t go, but I can’t change that, so I will continue to live my high school life vicariously through Mark Zuckerberg’s greatest contribution - or theft, depending on what you’ve read. Again with those thoughts I was trying to remember my greatest memory from high school, and my love of high school runs so deep that I couldn’t remember a single great thing that happened to me in those hallowed halls on Roehampton.
My favourite memory of that era was a game of golf with Geoff Browne, Telfer Hanson and Jamie Fike – the man who made the Bronco famous when OJ was still a Buffalo Bill! I have no idea how we shot – four guys with probably one full set of clubs, a mickey of Southern Comfort each and other stuff that we shouldn’t have had, realistically the golf wasn’t the point. On the other hand, renting carts that day wasn’t possibly the best idea that the club ever had. When I leaned to the right, as Fike swerved the cart to the left, well, ummm, gravity had it’s own agenda and we flipped the cart, the roof of which dipped it’s frilly canvas sunguard into a nearby water hazard. Scared shitless, we couldn’t stop laughing, and when Fike emerged from over the back of the cart, with a wry smile and a “hey guys, I think we should go now”, we left that golf course running at speeds that the aforementioned OJ could have only dreamt of.
The four of us caused shit and had a blast, but I still don’t know how much of high school I would ever want to re-live. Then again, it’s probably time to suck it up and face off against these demons, if that’s what they are.
posted by G.M. Shier @ Friday, May 18, 2012
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