This coming weekend my high school graduating class will gather for a big reunion. I can’t bring myself to say what number it is, but it’s half of 50. Can’t believe it’s been that long. As of the writing of this post, I won’t be able to attend. Over those 25 years, life happened and the commitments of “life” will keep me from gathering with friends to relive memories of a special time.
When I returned home from Indianapolis last week, I began searching for some very important files I would need for work. I turned this house upside down. At one point, I found a file and the picture in this post fell out of it. I had no idea I even had this picture. If you ignore the goofy kid with the starter jacket, mullet and cuffed painted on jeans, the other guy brought me back to a great time. I couldn’t help but spend some time remembering my friend “Eddie B.” We shared a majority of our classes. We shared inside jokes, laughs and probably an argument or two. We even worked together the summer after our freshman years at different colleges. He taught me to appreciate art, music (he once said “there’s more to life than 92.3 Aaron”) and many other things. Now he’s a big fashion designer in Italy and I couldn’t be more proud of him. We’ve connected on social media and we never had to say “goodbye.”
As I’ve considered what it would be like to be at that half-of-50 reunion, I’ve been reliving those school years. I’ve spent time the last week listening to the greatest music ever made (80’s). I’ve connected with some of the friends that will gather Saturday night just to catch up. I’ve remembered the great times and even thought about the not so great memories. I’m not sure how that party would go on Saturday night, but I know there are a few people I would extend a handshake or hug and a long overdue “I’m sorry.”
But regardless of our histories and our paths to where we are today, we all turned out just fine. Moments in that high school may have propelled us to who we are today. For some that may be success they experienced in those halls. For some that may be scars. What matters is that we’re where we are today and for that, I’m thankful. I will miss being a part of the reunion Saturday night. I’m proud of where I came from. I’m proud of those I walked those halls with.
It’s your party class of 1988. Enjoy the evening and never say “goodbye.”