This past June marked the 45th anniversary of AGMA’s first tentative, wobbly steps into adulthood. Very wobbly. I was naive. I was shy. I was mousy.
But I was ready to start my real life.
45 years ago, I, along with 700+ classmates, graduated from high school.
And those of us who are still fortunate enough to be around and in relatively good health and with the means and desire to travel to Pittsburgh, got together last Saturday night to celebrate that momentous event. Or we were just looking for a reason to party.
Yes. It was my 45th high school reunion.
And as promised in my earlier post in June, AGMA was boldly and proudly in attendance. Because, unlike 50 of my classmates who are no longer with us, I could go. And not to be morbid, but of those 50 classmate who have gone over the rainbow, 22 have passed in the last 5 years since our last reunion in 2011.
Holy crap on a cracker – 22 in 5 years! Poof, gone.
I think it’s a good thing we’ve started having reunions every 5 years now.
Aging is clearly a risky business.
Contrary to my plans in my June post, AGMA didn’t get glammed up or dressed to the nines. I didn’t wear heels or lots of make-up. I didn’t buy a new outfit either. It was billed as a casual affair so I went casual, wearing clothes I already had, and a bit of blush and eyeliner.
But I looked good… Darned good. And people noticed.
It was a good night for AGMA’s normally fragile, humble ego. Like the Grinch’s heart, AGMA’s ego grew three sizes Saturday evening.
Because only 2 of my 5 BFF’s were there and Hubs stayed back in Atlanta, I wandered around most of the evening striking up conversations with former classmates and/or their spouses/partners. I call it social “cold calling” and I’m pretty good at it .
“Hi! My name is AGMA. I’m sure you don’t remember me because I was very quiet and shy in high school, and didn’t move into the community until 9th grade. So do you still live in PIttsburgh?” It was an effective opening line.
And if I was talking to a man, I added, “And I definitely didn’t talk to guys. I used to blush and turn red.” I was surprised at the number of men who laughed and said, “And I didn’t talk to girls!”
Turns out many of them were as terrified of me as I was of them! Who knew?
Based on AGMA’s observations of the 80+ people who came the reunion, my classmates, 45 years later, fall into one the following groups:
- People who have become self actualized enough to leave the cliquishness, “labels” and insecurities of their teenage years behind them and are now really nice people. AGMA falls into this group. Of course.
- People who are still suffering from self confidence issues and are still reluctant, after all these years, to go outside of their comfort zone. So they still stick like glue to their old high school peeps for support. That’s just sad.
- People who have never gotten over the trauma of _________ (fill in the blank) from their high school years and have come back to prove a point. They are now (take your pick…) successful, beautiful, handsome, have a head full of hair, skinny, rich, have a hot spouse and/or successful kids, and have come to rub it in the face of the cool “kids”. Who really don’t give a flying f*ck. Still.
- The people who were self confident and nice in high school, and are still self confident and nice. Yeah – there were a few of those.
In general, the women have aged better than the men. Although I do have to admit to a few double takes with some of the guys. A few of them have gotten better with age. Much better.
But the big story of the night was that I did what was totally impossible and unthinkable to a 17 year old AGMA. And it only took 45 years. Who said crazy dreams don’t come true? You just have to be willing to be patient…
AGMA got to kiss our former class football jock hero. He was the quarterback of our state title winning football team. He was so popular that a quiet, shy mouse like me would never even think of daring to have a crush on him. That would have been just crazy.
Lest you think AGMA was dallying on Hubs, it wasn’t like that. Really. Although after 2 Moscow Mules, I’m not exactly 100% clear on how it all happened. I’m pretty sure we ended up kissing dramatically for a photo op.
Keep a lookout for it on Facebook. That possibility kinda makes me quesy…
At least there were no tongues.
Now that would’ve been gross. He’s turned out to be a kind of a slimy ,used car sales person type who drinks too much. It’s tough being a washed up jock.
One of my first thoughts afterwards was that I hoped he didn’t have anything that was contagious. Not the reaction AGMA might have dreamed of 45 years ago….
But I was young and naive then. And not aware of the dangers of cold sores and lip fungus.
I’m really looking forward to our 50th.
And I wonder who I’ll pucker up for in 2021?
Aging gracefully my ass!