Re-Onions
We had a party at Trina's, an informal reunion of our ETI class of last year. Eight of us, only five couldn't make it. I had a terrific time. We teased, reminisced, gossiped, and talked of life and what we are doing now.
I watched some of the Meisner program last week, the year long ensemble I did three years ago. It's a funny thing. It was less than a third of the time commitment compared to ETI. Yet, on that last day when we did our recital I felt more mourning at losing the regular contact with my classmates. Last year I didn't feel the same pang when we wrapped up ETI, though I knew I was even closer to them. Sunday showed I wasn't alone. None of the get togethers for Meisner alums went off. I expect the relationships from last year's ETI conservatory will last longer. They'll still fade and morph as all relationships. These are deeper for me.
And now, for my 31st high school reunion. The 30th was a dud. It was a great idea, a simple picnic instead of the overpriced affairs of the past. My desire to reconnect was never enough to trump my desire to skip a dry formal affair with people I don't really remember much about. So I went to the county park last year, but nobody thought to put up a sign. It was in the upper 90's, hot anywhere, but especially in our neck of the woods. I walked around the park at Horseshoe Lake several times to no avail. So I met my Dad, and we enjoyed the overly sultry day watching Pirates II. The a/c was great.
A few days later my high school buddy who had told me about the picnic asked why I didn't come. Well, I was embarrassed because I'd left my cell phone at home and couldn't find the group or give him a ring. He says, "We were by so and so's Mustang!" Not something I would remember or even think of looking for 30 years later.
My buddy was a simple guy. In high school he taught me you don't have to be smart to be a good person. Later he has taught me, that being a good person in high school may not translate into being a good person later in life. I remember the one thing which bothered me as a kid was his affinity for racist slurs. He said he wasn't prejudiced, he just learned the words from his Dad. Thirty years later, the blatantly racist E-mails he forwards have me on the cusp of blocking his E-mail, something I've not done to someone I know before. Anti immigrant E-mails espousing persecution and fear of minorities, while still wanting underpaid slaves to keep roofing and WalMart prices down. Basically, they should stay in their place, serve us, but not expect benefits or recognition. Then there's passive/aggressive religious and white supremacist ecstasy over the massive casualties for non-white 'heathens' in Iraq.
I don't have bonds to my old buddy any more, nor any real feelings. The terminal incident for me happened when I cited my combat experience as my primary reason for opposing the war as unjustifiable, and he accused me of lying. He was simply the most recent contact I'd had with my high school class which sadly doesn't increase my desire to reconnect. Still, I'd set August 4th aside, and was finally starting to look forward to seeing people. Then one of the organizers sends out a short angry note at 1am this Monday morning. He feels dissed and shut out and is quitting the organizational meeting, which in itself is understandable.
By the time I get to work Monday morning my inbox is stuffed with bitching E-mails. The quitter had flamed, and left the committee members off the recipient list, but my old buddy still kissing up to people he thinks are cool apparently stoked the flames by forwarding the E-mails to them. How many screw-ups can you count? One, the quitter bitching to 90(!) addressees about his dismay at the committee he's quitting. Two, the quitter not having the character to copy them, opting for backstabbing. Three, my buddy stoking the flames, by backstabbing the quitter. With very little effort you can think of more. So five or six people arguing, ninety pissed off at the pissing contest.
I went from disinterest for thirty years, to "Yeah, that'd be nice." Now the very worst of high school politics and social infighting is flooding our inboxes. Too damn bad. I got to the point to where I was looking forward to seeing people, and now it looks like it won't happen. I think I was the first to ask them to stop. These people don't know me either, so I was surprised to have a couple people send me positive responses. Here is my quip. (Okay, so others would call it bitching.)
Two reunions touched me this week. Both give rise to tears, for vastly disparate reasons. Guess which group I'm looking forward to seeing later this Summer? I turn fifty the day before the reunion. The following weekend I'm planning to reserve a pavilion at one of the parks, and inviting my theatre and work friends and acquaintances. They generally have fun interacting.
Well now I've got to get back to work. A few small things to do so I'm caught up. Maybe then I'll remember to reserve a park if it's not already too late.
I watched some of the Meisner program last week, the year long ensemble I did three years ago. It's a funny thing. It was less than a third of the time commitment compared to ETI. Yet, on that last day when we did our recital I felt more mourning at losing the regular contact with my classmates. Last year I didn't feel the same pang when we wrapped up ETI, though I knew I was even closer to them. Sunday showed I wasn't alone. None of the get togethers for Meisner alums went off. I expect the relationships from last year's ETI conservatory will last longer. They'll still fade and morph as all relationships. These are deeper for me.
And now, for my 31st high school reunion. The 30th was a dud. It was a great idea, a simple picnic instead of the overpriced affairs of the past. My desire to reconnect was never enough to trump my desire to skip a dry formal affair with people I don't really remember much about. So I went to the county park last year, but nobody thought to put up a sign. It was in the upper 90's, hot anywhere, but especially in our neck of the woods. I walked around the park at Horseshoe Lake several times to no avail. So I met my Dad, and we enjoyed the overly sultry day watching Pirates II. The a/c was great.
A few days later my high school buddy who had told me about the picnic asked why I didn't come. Well, I was embarrassed because I'd left my cell phone at home and couldn't find the group or give him a ring. He says, "We were by so and so's Mustang!" Not something I would remember or even think of looking for 30 years later.
My buddy was a simple guy. In high school he taught me you don't have to be smart to be a good person. Later he has taught me, that being a good person in high school may not translate into being a good person later in life. I remember the one thing which bothered me as a kid was his affinity for racist slurs. He said he wasn't prejudiced, he just learned the words from his Dad. Thirty years later, the blatantly racist E-mails he forwards have me on the cusp of blocking his E-mail, something I've not done to someone I know before. Anti immigrant E-mails espousing persecution and fear of minorities, while still wanting underpaid slaves to keep roofing and WalMart prices down. Basically, they should stay in their place, serve us, but not expect benefits or recognition. Then there's passive/aggressive religious and white supremacist ecstasy over the massive casualties for non-white 'heathens' in Iraq.
I don't have bonds to my old buddy any more, nor any real feelings. The terminal incident for me happened when I cited my combat experience as my primary reason for opposing the war as unjustifiable, and he accused me of lying. He was simply the most recent contact I'd had with my high school class which sadly doesn't increase my desire to reconnect. Still, I'd set August 4th aside, and was finally starting to look forward to seeing people. Then one of the organizers sends out a short angry note at 1am this Monday morning. He feels dissed and shut out and is quitting the organizational meeting, which in itself is understandable.
By the time I get to work Monday morning my inbox is stuffed with bitching E-mails. The quitter had flamed, and left the committee members off the recipient list, but my old buddy still kissing up to people he thinks are cool apparently stoked the flames by forwarding the E-mails to them. How many screw-ups can you count? One, the quitter bitching to 90(!) addressees about his dismay at the committee he's quitting. Two, the quitter not having the character to copy them, opting for backstabbing. Three, my buddy stoking the flames, by backstabbing the quitter. With very little effort you can think of more. So five or six people arguing, ninety pissed off at the pissing contest.
I went from disinterest for thirty years, to "Yeah, that'd be nice." Now the very worst of high school politics and social infighting is flooding our inboxes. Too damn bad. I got to the point to where I was looking forward to seeing people, and now it looks like it won't happen. I think I was the first to ask them to stop. These people don't know me either, so I was surprised to have a couple people send me positive responses. Here is my quip. (Okay, so others would call it bitching.)
I don't care if there are two get togethers on August 4th if the times don't overlap, so I can visit with people at both. Simple solution which serves the attendees, while still letting the opposing organizational parties to take their ball and go home. I do sympathize with the frustration on both sides, but deep down I don't care a bit. I was looking forward to seeing people I've not seen since we graduated, not reliving playground arguments about who stepped over the tether ball line.Aside from two more E-mails later in the day asking the bickerers to take it off line, that stopped the flood. Probably the most important lesson is one any person who is E-mail savvy already knows. Don't send out an E-mail when you're angry. Wait and read it with a cool head, and see if that is really how you want people to think of you. I don't think "The quitter" is as little as he appears. However, I don't remember him from school, though it may be that I'd recognize him in person. All I know about him is his E-mail, and even though I know you're not your best at 1am when you're pissed off, it is still all I have with which to know this person. Hence I think of him as "The quitter" instead of "The resigner". Was it his intent to make the moderate appearing member of the committee quit? Well I just got an E-mail that half of the remaining members have quit as well.
If forced to make choice between concurrent events I'll skip the thing altogether.
Please, please, those of you in the organizational debate, drop those of us not involved from the recipient list. I don't need to see any more he-said/she-said/I'm-telling-mommy spams.
Two reunions touched me this week. Both give rise to tears, for vastly disparate reasons. Guess which group I'm looking forward to seeing later this Summer? I turn fifty the day before the reunion. The following weekend I'm planning to reserve a pavilion at one of the parks, and inviting my theatre and work friends and acquaintances. They generally have fun interacting.
Well now I've got to get back to work. A few small things to do so I'm caught up. Maybe then I'll remember to reserve a park if it's not already too late.
2 Comments:
No reason to bring up those high school issues again - not 30 years on.
I have not attended my high school reunions. In part, there is the cost to travel back to Michigan. Even if I could justify that cost by visiting the family and friends, I wouldn't pay the extraordinary costs of the reunions. My 25th reunion is in September and the cost to attend is $150 per person. Why would I pay that much to see people I barely remember and, for the most part, did not want to remember?
I got an email from a former classmate. I don't recall her. I looked at her name and her photo and could not remember her. It was a basic, pleasant, "how ya doin?" sort of email. In order to make a connection, though, she made a comment about one of our instructors. She dissed him and made light of it. I'm fine with that, but he was an instructor I ultimately came to admire and someone who I sought advice from outside of the one class I took from him. She didn't know that, of course, but it didn't move me to respond in any more than a superficial manner.
There are a few people I'd probably enjoy seeing. I think most of us have grown up by now, and past the ridiculous boxes we allotted to each other.
I know from the very little contact I've had some have turned into shitty people, some into great people, and a very small and dysfunctional few have not changed or grown a bit.
I think by now most of us have grown past the juvenile hate for our little podunk hometown and the resentments driven by alternately embracing and eschewing peer pressure. People I've met everywhere else have, and I don't really think my classmates were especially notable in either their ignorance or brilliance. They were just fellow idiots on the USS Trite.
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