My High School Reunion
Well, I’ve got to talk about my high school class reunion for a couple of different reasons. So here it goes…
Last weekend I drove up to Phoenix to attend my high school class's 10 year reunion. I live in Yuma, so it took a little bit of effort to get there. I asked my beau, Steve, to go, but he opted out despite my insisting. He is a good bit older than I am and I’m sure that had something to do with it. He was probably afraid that he would feel uncomfortable and out of place. He undoubtedly wasn’t altogether wrong. Anyway, we had a “disagreement” that soon descended into me shouting, and ended up with me retreating into a pretty good pout. We’ve been dating each other regularly for about six weeks now, and this was our biggest argument by far. I suppose I should have respected his decision, but I truly wanted him with me.
Anyway, the reunion was a lot of fun, although I think some of the enjoyment was red wine induced. I discovered that one of my old girlfriends, Marsha, is now married and a mother of two boys. I was a bit shocked. A lot can happen in ten years, more than I sometimes realize.
One of my other girlfriends, Pat, is now an attorney in San Francisco. Back in high school she said that she wanted to be a lawyer. I guess she made it. It’s not surprising, really, considering that she graduated tops in the class. I spent about fifteen minutes talking to her, and hearing about all her experiences over the years. She showed me some of her photos of her house. It is very beautiful, and she had it nicely decorated too. She was rightfully proud of herself.
I also ran into an ex-classmate named Ron. I did not know him very well. He and I hung out with two different sets of kids. Back in high school, Ron spent his time with a group that was pretty much just ordinary guys. They weren’t exactly tough, but they weren’t particularly excellent students either. Anyway, he had become a very nice looking man.
Ron started out by telling me that he once had a crush on me. He was smiling and half joking, but I was of course still speechless. He then told me that he could never approach me because I was a “smart girl”, while he graduated last in the class. I replied that he may not have been a great student, but he certainly did not graduate last in the class. Ron shook his head and repeated that he had, in fact, graduated last in the class. He said that if he had not gotten a D, or higher, in one particular final exam during our senior year, he would not have graduated with the class. It had been that close. I could tell that Ron knew what he was talking about.
He told me that he had been a terrible student all through school and had flunked several courses through high school, requiring that he take them again in summer school. “My summers were pretty busy,” he joked.
Ron asked me what I had been doing since high school. I told him that I had gone to college, moved to Yuma, and was in a relationship, but not married. He asked me how badly I wanted to get married. I told him; someday maybe, but I’m not in any big rush. It was funny; I was talking to this guy, Ron, as though we had been best friends who were now catching up.
I then told Ron that I liked to hike and take photos of the desert. And then, much to my surprise, I revealed that just after high school I developed a mild anxiety disorder. Ron did not flinch; he simply asked me all about it. I mentioned "cognitive therapy" and was about to describe it to him, but there was no need. He not only new what "cognitive therapy" is, he also knew what "exposure therapy" is. “Truck drivers will watch science programs too,” he quipped with a grin.
We finished our discussion by light-hardheartedly comparing our notions on some of our classmates, and where they would be when our 20th reunion rolled around. Ron was humorous and fascinating. I enjoyed listening to his thoughts.
Just before leaving, Ron wished me luck, and he hoped to see me at a future reunion. I told him that I was already planning on it.
The next day I drove back to Yuma. My mind barely gave either Pat or Marsha a moment of thought. All I could dwell on was Ron, my polite, modest, ex-classmate, who ten years ago graduated last in the class.
Last weekend I drove up to Phoenix to attend my high school class's 10 year reunion. I live in Yuma, so it took a little bit of effort to get there. I asked my beau, Steve, to go, but he opted out despite my insisting. He is a good bit older than I am and I’m sure that had something to do with it. He was probably afraid that he would feel uncomfortable and out of place. He undoubtedly wasn’t altogether wrong. Anyway, we had a “disagreement” that soon descended into me shouting, and ended up with me retreating into a pretty good pout. We’ve been dating each other regularly for about six weeks now, and this was our biggest argument by far. I suppose I should have respected his decision, but I truly wanted him with me.
Anyway, the reunion was a lot of fun, although I think some of the enjoyment was red wine induced. I discovered that one of my old girlfriends, Marsha, is now married and a mother of two boys. I was a bit shocked. A lot can happen in ten years, more than I sometimes realize.
One of my other girlfriends, Pat, is now an attorney in San Francisco. Back in high school she said that she wanted to be a lawyer. I guess she made it. It’s not surprising, really, considering that she graduated tops in the class. I spent about fifteen minutes talking to her, and hearing about all her experiences over the years. She showed me some of her photos of her house. It is very beautiful, and she had it nicely decorated too. She was rightfully proud of herself.
I also ran into an ex-classmate named Ron. I did not know him very well. He and I hung out with two different sets of kids. Back in high school, Ron spent his time with a group that was pretty much just ordinary guys. They weren’t exactly tough, but they weren’t particularly excellent students either. Anyway, he had become a very nice looking man.
Ron started out by telling me that he once had a crush on me. He was smiling and half joking, but I was of course still speechless. He then told me that he could never approach me because I was a “smart girl”, while he graduated last in the class. I replied that he may not have been a great student, but he certainly did not graduate last in the class. Ron shook his head and repeated that he had, in fact, graduated last in the class. He said that if he had not gotten a D, or higher, in one particular final exam during our senior year, he would not have graduated with the class. It had been that close. I could tell that Ron knew what he was talking about.
He told me that he had been a terrible student all through school and had flunked several courses through high school, requiring that he take them again in summer school. “My summers were pretty busy,” he joked.
Ron asked me what I had been doing since high school. I told him that I had gone to college, moved to Yuma, and was in a relationship, but not married. He asked me how badly I wanted to get married. I told him; someday maybe, but I’m not in any big rush. It was funny; I was talking to this guy, Ron, as though we had been best friends who were now catching up.
I then told Ron that I liked to hike and take photos of the desert. And then, much to my surprise, I revealed that just after high school I developed a mild anxiety disorder. Ron did not flinch; he simply asked me all about it. I mentioned "cognitive therapy" and was about to describe it to him, but there was no need. He not only new what "cognitive therapy" is, he also knew what "exposure therapy" is. “Truck drivers will watch science programs too,” he quipped with a grin.
We finished our discussion by light-hardheartedly comparing our notions on some of our classmates, and where they would be when our 20th reunion rolled around. Ron was humorous and fascinating. I enjoyed listening to his thoughts.
Just before leaving, Ron wished me luck, and he hoped to see me at a future reunion. I told him that I was already planning on it.
The next day I drove back to Yuma. My mind barely gave either Pat or Marsha a moment of thought. All I could dwell on was Ron, my polite, modest, ex-classmate, who ten years ago graduated last in the class.
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