Tonight, my friends, I attend my 50th High School Reunion.
I know. I’m old.
I tell my present friends and collegues that I’m going to see how much uglier and fatter my classmates have become. I, of course, am still the handsome, boyish man of my youth. Except with gray hair. And a little belly. And a few wrinkles. And a sad, sad outlook on life.
The last time I saw these folks was at the 20th reunion. And I left that feeling sad.
Sad, as regular readers of my blog will tell you, is a normal state of mind for the kid. But that’s another blog.
No, sad because I realized how my life spins by me without a mark on the world. I attended this school as the last of 3 high schools in my youth, a place I spent a year and a half at. Many of these folks remember me because I ran for, and won, Vice President of the school. I did a good job. And almost got impeached–because this was 1974, the year of Nixon, and what’s a high school without an impeachment?
(Someday in this blog I will tell the sordid story of the impeachment. Not something I like to revisit. It failed, but it still stung.)
Ah, but that was yesterday, 50 years’ worth.
Now I am a lawyer who has managed to keep his bar card for 38 years; a successful single father whose beautiful son has a Ph.D in Aeronautical Engineering, a beautiful wife, and two lovely children; I have even enjoyed a small bit of success as a writer, having published 4 stories in Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine and several other publications. Hey! I even have an agent!
None of which will matter when I see these folks from my youth. I’m not rich. I’m not famous. I’m not even married.
Sigh.
I have already made a plan. I’m not going to hang around all night hoping someone will come talk to me (I had about 40 minutes of conversation with people I knew, then wandered the hall looking for others for the next 2 hours. Sad.)
Nope. I’m going to see who’s there. I’m going to talk to those people who I knew and who remember me; I’m going to eat the nice dinner I paid $150 for; then I’m coming back to my little apartment in Loma Linda and dream of Scarlett Johannsen.
In my dreams, Scarlett always has time to talk to me. Though somehow we always end up playing Chinese Checkers. And she always wins.
Mark Bruce, Writer 
My gracious! A 50th high school class reunion is that important to you? From my perspective such markers are not that significant. I have never attended a class reunion. To my mind, such events only serve to make me feel ordinary and insignificant, and why would I want to nurture that feeling? Only one person has maintained an acquaintanceship with me over these many years, and why he has done so still puzzles me. When we were in chemistry class together he would try to establish my acquaintance by making comments about my chemistry lab assistant duties. I had the impression that he thought I was his girl friend. Secretly I always resented this familiarity. Many, many years later he emailed me to ask if I was the Ann Marie Popadak that graduated with the San Bernardino High School Class of 1965. I said yes but could not quite figure out how he found me, since I had been married and divorced once and was still using my married surname Wentworth. He emails me every so often asking for my perspective concerning the terrible Southern California weather events showing up in the national news (he lives in Alabama now). I email him pictures of the local snows and fire disasters, etc. I assumed that he reestablished contact with me because he is a lonely bachelor or widower, but subsequently learned that he is married, and his wife is in good health.
I guess I really don’t mind being an ordinary worker with no publicity-worthy achievements.
I hope you will always be content with your successes and failings in your current existence. I am expecting to hear soon that your literary agent will get a publishing contract for your Minerva James novel! Ann Marie
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Each of us lives our life the way we feel we must. I didn’t go to the 30th or 40th but the 50th will likely be the last. As it was, I had a good time, saw some people I liked, didn’t feel awful coming home. Indeed, most of these people have retired and are content to fade away. Me? I’m still in the game.
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