The High School Reunion

Stan and I are the same age. We both graduated from high school in 1986. Back in the day hair was big, jeans were acid washed, cut up clothing was a must and we were all proud to be “Born in the U.S.A!”

Stan is coming home from his 25th high school reunion. He went at my recommendation after hemming and hawing about wanting to go. He asked my thoughts and I told him I kind of regretted not going to mine earlier this summer. “That seals it,” Stan said, “I’m going.” Good!

Stan went to high school in New Jersey, near the Jersey shore. The gal who planned the event decided an evening on the Jersey shore, Seaside to be exact, was the venue. Hotels on the Jersey shore in the middle of summer are a hot and expensive commodity! Stan went to book his hotel room, two days before the big event, and found incredibly nasty hotel rooms for outrageous amounts of cash. So, he did what any normal person would do and he found himself a camp site near the Jersey shore.

Tent, cot, sleeping bag and pillow packed, Stan left yesterday morning for his reunion. 20 minutes after he left my phone rang with Stan calling to ask why he was going to this reunion again? Ooooooof, he’s killing me ~ the hemming and hawing! “OK,” I said “if you really don’t want to go, turn around and come home!” He assured me he really did want to go, was going to go and have a good time.

I just got off the phone with Stan. He is headed home. His time with his classmates provided him with a nice trip down memory lane but he is happy to be coming home.

I think it’s important to reconnect with those friends whose role in our lives is to help us get through our coming of age years. It’s good to go back and revisit the glory of our youth, especially now, as our own kiddos starting down their high school paths. It’s a reconnection to what trials and tribulations we faced as teens and reminder of what our kids may be facing…although, they won’t have big hair, acid washed jeans, torn up clothing and Bruce Springsteen blaring on their stereos.

Oh, for the love of my children…

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