Try To Go

Two years ago at this time, I was knee-deep in reunion stuff.

If you remember, I was on the 40 year Class Reunion Committee of The Class of 1977 of Wheeler High School (Class Motto:  "Where The Leaders Of Tomorrow Are Looking Out The Windows Of Today").  I  became a part of the committee simply by showing up at the first committee meeting at "Come And Get It" (the actual name of the restaurant we met at).

I know we are not supposed to acknowledge the existence of Woody Allen or that at one time he was very funny, but he once said 80 percent of life is showing up.  That's how I got involved: I showed up.

The reunion was a lot of work and a lot of fun. However, there were some challenges along the way.

The Bad:  We had five class members die in the five months before the reunion. Only one of the class members had been seriously ill before death. Our buddy, Barry Suttle, died suddenly, without warning. Our Homecoming Queen committed suicide.

Additionally, we had two classmates who were in jail. One was not surprising. He seemed like an okay guy, but he also seemed like a guy that would break into your house and take your stereo.  The other guy was a total shock and is scheduled to get out of jail after serving ten years in the fall of 2019.

On top of that, we found out one of our classmates had, um, transitioned genders. The dude became a lady.  We found a picture of her on the internet and she looked like he did 40 years ago except with a rack.

We never found out when all of this change happened. She didn't come to the reunion.

She wasn't the only one.  We had several people that couldn't make it for one reason or another. Most had to do with long-planned vacations or events. Some would come out and tell you that there was nobody they wanted to see and that all the people there were stuck up. (Note:  in 70's lingo, "stuck up" meant people who thought they were better than you)

I'm sorry they felt this way. They missed some fun times.

We had a five-year reunion in 1982. It was at that reunion someone asked me if I had gotten laid yet. My answer:  Well, I live at home with my parents, I'm still in college, I go to Kennesaw, I'm majoring in history, I work at a convenience store, and I drive my dad's 1973 Lime Green Plymouth Scamp my brother's friend Rex Fortenberry nicknamed "The Snot Rod".  You tell me.

By the time the ten-year reunion came around, I was married (Yay!). I remember the band cut loose with "Johnny B Goode" and the whole class was shaking its groove thing. When the song ended, the whole class slowly walked off the floor. That's when I knew we were getting older.

The 20-year reunion had me walking up to the DJ and requesting a song. I walked back to my wife and said, "I've requested a song for you".  The song: "Brick House". I don't remember getting into trouble.

I showed up to the 30-year reunion in my goatee. It made me look older.  I shaved it off.

At each of the above reunions, we had a student speaker. At the 5-year, it was Steve Leary. Steve had hemophilia and died of AIDS due to a toxic transfusion a few years later.  Our class sponsor, Mr. Collier spoke at all of the reunions.  He couldn't attend our 40-year reunion. He has Alzheimer's.

I know everybody's high school experience wasn't the greatest in the world. I know people have moved on with their lives.

My son is having his 10-year reunion this year. I've told him to go. These are the people of your life, like it or not and they are intertwined with your life. They walked the same halls, looked out the same windows, and worried about the same silly things.