High School Daze

A college-era friend called yesterday. He and his family are in So. Cal. on vacation, and he had told me a week or so ago that we might be able to get together. Now that they’ve arrived at their beach rental—in Carpinteria, near Santa Barbara—he realizes that he’s more than 200 miles from San Diego and getting here would require a long slog through LA traffic or 5½ hours on the train. 

After apologies for the change of plans and our agreement to try again some other time, we got to talking about family, mutual friends, what we do for fun, and even high school reunions because this year is the 50th anniversary of our respective graduations. He’s “devilishly curious” to see whether high school friendships will have survived five decades.

Loyal readers of this blog (assuming there are any) may recall that three years ago I briefly mentioned a related phenomenon. In that post of June 8, 2011, I wrote:

It was prom season recently. "Glee" had an entire episode on it, and the NYT had a story about proms for adults, of all things. The headline read, "Second Shot to Have the Best Night of Their Lives." Their best night! Really? … Gag me! I thought proms were stupid when I went to them (credit peer pressure for my going), and I feel even more so now. And proms for adults? Puh-leeze!  

I guess you can sense where I’m headed with this: my friend Bill is going to his reunion, but I couldn’t care less about mine. The adolescent years generally—and high school years in particular—aren’t especially joyous ones for a lot of people. I don’t think you’re even supposed to be happy at that age, so why conjure up those memories? For me the pleasant ones are few and the lasting friendships fewer still. I’ve kept in touch with the handful of my peers I really care about.

Garfield HS, Terre Haute, IN

I’ve never been back to my high school, and it doesn’t even exist any longer. Its reunion will be combined with the reunions of two other schools in town that also have been relegated to the dust bins of history. Thus, were I to attend the joint festivities I wouldn’t recognize most of the people there and would have little in common with any of them. Why would I want to go back to see a bunch of old people I don’t know?

They can “drink a cup of kindness” to the days gone by, but as for me … I’d rather live happily in the present.

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