I graduated from my rural Iowa high school in 1983 with 48 others in a standard, uneventful, and completely forgettable ceremony, so – holy shit – I’ve now been a (somewhat) legitimate adult for four decades. Incredible and scary all at the same time.
[Granted, almost all of us were 18 and legal adults, one graduated 9 months pregnant, some had signed up with the military. But getting the actual diploma made it seem more real, I guess, though some would argue I’m still not an adult!]
I have not attended any previous reunions for various reasons – living/working overseas, late decision on reunion dates overlapping already-booked travel, not contacted at all – but this year seemed more legitimate: a save-the-approximate-date email received last winter was a stark contrast to the unplanned, non-existent 30-year reunion, remedied by a sparsely-attended 33rd-year reunion. Looks like someone means business for this reunion!
And between the initial email until a month before the date, I really struggled with whether I wanted to attend or not.
How Did I End Up In Iowa?
My mother moved me, my sister, and my brother from Brooklyn, NY to Green Island, IA after my parents’ separation, and even a seven year-old could see the differences. My mom made it exciting by mentioning the trains that ran almost in our backyard, of livestock grazing on the hillside, of growing vegetables in our own garden. However, a stark contrast to Brooklyn where I walked to Pratt Institute, rode subways, saw the animals in the Bronx Zoo, visit my grandparents in Connecticut. Definitely a life-changing event.
From second grade through graduation I attended school in this rural district, small enough for a single building to house all grades K-12, small enough to consolidate with the neighboring school district to the east between third and forth grades, small enough to eventually consolidate with the neighboring district to the west. Consolidation didn’t impact me as elementary students stayed local to avoid bussing; post-elementary, middle school students were in one building and high school in the other.
Though I was with the primarily the same kids for eleven years, to some degree I never completely integrated or assimilated: I arrived from an unimaginably-large city; I kept my hair hippie-long through eighth grade; I had different music and comedy tastes (Firesign Theater, anyone?); I didn’t attend church; I read books for fun. And to further complicate things, I was a complete social illiterate, clueless of social norms much less the local norms where most knew each other their entire lives via family, church, school, etc.
I am not implying that anyone treated me bad or ignored me per se, but I also didn’t with life-long friends that I routinely stay in touch with; for most I’m an enigma, someone who disappeared after graduation and was rarely heard from, someone who may occasionally come to mind with a I wonder whatever happened to Scott. I have met or exchanged emails with a few, but not regularly. I met J for dinner multiple times when in San Francisco and obviously our Iowa days were discussed. His comment: Scott, you were the nice one.
L, the woman planning the reunion – or at least my contact – said A and I are so excited to see you! And my first thought is Why? I really don’t know, perhaps she’s truly interested or perhaps just trying to pump up the event. Perhaps both.
Others’ Experiences
Having never attended a reunion of any sort, bad assumptions, wrong guesses, personal biases, and gut reaction could have been the basis for a decision to attend or not. But instead, I decided to ask friends if they had attended their’s and their experiences. TL;DR: Don’t.
Conveniently or ironically – you decide – my brother’s thirty-fifth reunion preceded mine by a week and he also struggled with the decision. He decided to skip it, which was wise as only 7 (~15%) attended and those he hoped to see didn’t show.
Small Town Minnesota
J grew up an hour west of Minneapolis/St. Paul and graduated with approximately 125 others, and returned to the area after meeting her now-husband to live and raise her family (amazingly, commuting daily to Minneapolis for work). Work aside, her entire life has been small-town, rural Minnesota.
At her reunion, J spent time with a group of women she barely knows (anymore) talking about how disappointed how their lives turned out. She also saw how the shy people and wallflowers who were mostly ignored during high school being similarly ignored decades later, standing on the fringes waiting for someone (anyone) to say hi.
[I haven’t asked whether J whether she said hi to any of them.]
Small-Town Iowa Transplant to California
CB lived in different parts of the US before her family landed in south-east Iowa, graduating with roughly the same-sized class as I did. After attending/graduating from the University of Iowa, she moved to Los Angeles to work in film and and has never left.
CB attended her 20-year reunion and realized that her years (far) away had given her experiences dramatically different than many others (whom, I assume, are primarily local, Iowan, or at least mid-western), very little in common with those she spoke with. Absolutely no interest in attending future reunions.
Fellow Escapee
Recently I’ve reconnected with S and had fun catching up via phone calls, sharing each other’s life twists and turns, ups and downs, and discovering how far she has disconnected from our (somewhat) common roots. S was an anomaly: she arrived as a sophomore (Grade 10) and had to navigate small-town social dynamics without any backing context. Actually multiple social dynamics: she observed that kids (especially the girls) from each of the original districts had their own differences as well.
[Perhaps an overstatement, but it seemed like there were more cliques than girls in our class. Silly, petty, inevitable teen-age drama, most everyone experiences it.]
At the 20-year reunion, S realized that not much had changed: the petty jealousies still simmered, the self-anointed BMOC still preened as if still BMOC. Disappointed or unimpressed, she did not plan to attend this reunion, primarily because the effort required to attend far outweighed her interest in personal change in the subsequent twenty years.
Twin Cities Suburban High School
W has lived in the Twin Cities since his family moved to a Minneapolis suburb during junior high. He met his wife in high school and has had every opportunity to stay in-touch with classmates and attend reunions, but hasn’t. He’s in touch with those few he consider friends, and is not interested in attending a reunion to see people he just doesn’t care about.
Decision Time
Ultimately, I opted out after much internal debate and some angst. My wife is spot-on by pointing out that I’ve spent far too much time thinking about this (and then went overboard by spending even more time writing this post).
The easy reason is the time commitment: the summer has been busy and I can’t do everything, please everybody. As it was, that weekend I met my mom in Iowa City for a visit; though she still lives in the area, she enjoys our visits to Iowa City and the inevitable stops at Prairie Lights Books and Molly’s Cupcakes.
My own insecurities probably provide a more truthful, nuanced reason: does my high school persona reassert itself because that’s how they know me and I know them? Other than J (Scott, you were the nice one) no one has ever reached out to me (apologies if I forgot someone), to catch up, see how life was going, whatever, confirming my invisibleness during the eleven years I was there. By college graduation, high school and classmates had faded in the rear view mirror.
[The irony is that, for unexplainable reasons, I still follow local news and sports, in particular the towns and school district, and am fascinated by school board meeting minutes. Go figure.]
I also don’t handle larger groups or parties where I don’t understand the group dynamics and small groups or one-on-one interactions. Just another social skill I have yet to develop.
Final Thoughts
The time lapsed and life experiences gained wreaks havoc with memories, and those I grew up with may feel differently than how I remember things….and we can agree to disagree. We’re probably both right and wrong.
With no ill intended, I’m probably just not that interested in catching up with people whom I basically don’t know, whom I haven’t seen in decades, many whose names I had forgotten, and whom I’m unlikely to see again (at least until the Fiftieth Reunion). Perhaps I don’t understand the purpose of reunions, but that’s my thoughts. Again, to each their own opinion.
Will I attend a reunion in the future? Doubtful, but I guess I can grow up between now and then!
