High school was not a pleasant experience for me. I hated every minute of it and anxiously awaited graduation, knowing I would never have to see those godforsaken hallways and classrooms again.
I got married five years after I graduated from high school, the first of my friends to do so. (Incidentally, I was pegged to be the last of my friends to get married.) A few months after my wedding, I received an invitation (at my parent's address) to my five-year high school reunion. Instead of tossing the invite to the trash, I — surprisingly — held on to it, actually considering attending. This was totally out of character. I hardly kept in touch with any of the few classmates that I considered "friends." But, the more I thought about it, the more I really wanted to go to this reunion. So, I replied in the affirmative and enclosed payment to cover my new bride and myself.I should have skipped the reunion. I saw a bunch of people that — for four years — I hoped I would never have to see again. The ones who bragged about their accomplishments in high school now bragged (and likely exaggerated) about their accomplishments as members of the working world. C'mon now! Not everyone could possibly be an executive vice-president in charge of something-or-other, could they? My wife, who did not attend my high school, sat for most of the evening and talked to my friend Scott. Scott was an usher at my wedding and Mrs. Pincus had just seen him a few months earlier. I believe they talked about the wedding. At the end of the night, I swore — swore! — I would never go to another high school reunion again.
Around 2005 or so, I received an email from a high-school friend, one whom had been to my wedding, but with whom I didn't stay in regular contact. She told me about this "thing" on the internet called "Facebook." She explained that it was sort of a social interaction website that allowed the exchange of messages and pictures among connections. This was at a time when MySpace was thriving and I was pretty active on MySpace. I didn't see the need to join another social website. I do recall briefly perusing some photos and names from my past and immediately thinking: "This is not for me." But, I must have been curious enough, because I signed up for a Facebook page, although absolutely do not remember doing so. I have a "fan page" on Facebook, to which I contribute regularly. Recently, I must have changed some hidden setting on my personal Facebook page, because I receive friend suggestions on a daily basis. I see names that I haven't thought about in years... decades! Just this week, I received a suggestion to join a Facebook group from my high school graduation class. Like a common stalker, I clicked on the link.
There they were. A collection of names and faces from my past. Representatives of a dark, cringe-inducing time, suddenly released as though I cracked the lid of Pandora's box. The familiar names were accompanied by photos of older, grayer versions of those snotty, loathsome members of my graduation class. The messages all began with: "Remember when we...." and "There was that one time..." There were recent comments about a reunion (the 40th!) that was held in November 2019. Most were shallow sentiments from people whose greatest lifetime experiences occurred between 1975 and 1979. There was even someone suggesting a reunion of those who attended my elementary school. The thought made my skin crawl. I closed that window on my web browser as quickly as I could.
Look, I know that I am in the overwhelming minority. I know that most people love high school reunions and long to reminisce with classmates about the carefree times of long ago — a time when corporate deadlines and family obligations were non-existent. I know that a lot of people kept life-long friendships and feel very comfortable "living in the past" and lying about their present.
I don't.
I have moved on and don't like looking back. With few exceptions, those that I currently consider friends are folks I have met long after I was handed my high school diploma. High school is not a fond memory and I would rather not associate with a bunch of people who sing its praises with dewy eyes and secretly wish for a time machine.
No comments:
Post a Comment