30+1

Tonight is my 30+1 class reunion. And I feel like such a kid: a bundle up muddle of mixed emotions.

Recently I’ve spent some time looking over photos and annuals. I was trying to remember faces and events. I came away with many smiles, but also with some sadness.

I moved the summer between 8th and 9th grades. I was really just connecting with a lot of people in junior high and was really excited about the transition to high school. Then my dad announced that we were moving. Devastation barely describes the deep of my newly discovered teenage angst.

We moved from a quaint small town to eastern suburb of Columbus, Ohio. It was culture shock, plain and simple. Dad had found a brand new subdivision and bought one of the first homes built. We were now on the out edge of the world so it seemed with no one around us. I had no opportunity to make any friends before school started. I was totally alone and terrified.

I remember those first steps on campus. As I walked toward one of the buildings the cement sidewalk seemed to double in size, or was that just me shrinking in my fright? Providence, in retrospect, clearly had a hand in what happened next for the first connection I made was band.

My peer group for the next four years was located pretty much within the confines of the band and choir. From that pool there was a subset of people that were closely associated with the academic challenge team (In the Know as the program was then called on TV) that I was particularly close to.

Nelson teases me about being boy crazy. For a long time I denied that, but my recent walk down Memory Lane confirms his observation and a few other things I’m not very proud of. I desperately wanted to be loved, but was involved in two types (maybe three) of relationships. In one I was constantly pursuing relationships I couldn’t have, guys that were “too good” for me, weren’t interested, or in one case: bad boys. Then there were the relationships that I took the role of manipulator. I was in control and control I did. The last relationship was one I could have but never felt worthy to have. It was such an on again off again thing. There was deep love and an almost spiritual connection, but I never seemed to be able to sustain it.

Needless to say with all this going on I was labeled quite the flirt. I hurt way too many feelings and garnered a deserved but disdained reputation. I lost most all of my girlfriends over it and couldn’t trust the guys to be really caring about me as a person. I was pretty miserable. I wish I could say things improved when I moved on to college, but it was the same song next verse with an interesting bridge.

There have been many times I have said that there isn’t enough money in the world for me to go back and be a teenager again. I’ve repented of that hasty remark—after all, there’s a lot of good I could do with that money. I’ve also said I’d go back if I could know what I know now. In my reflection this week, I decided I probably did know a lot of what I know now. I would just need to trust it enough to do it.

So I started thinking about the three lessons I would take back with me if I could do it all over again. And I think I came up with a pretty good short list. First, I would put my girlfriends first. I wasted so much energy and heart chasing boys to find some kind of completion and hurt the people who really knew, understood, and loved me unconditionally. Relationships with girlfriends last. Then, I would either tattoo it or get a huge poster and hang it on my wall that I amazingly talented, extraordinary, intelligent, and wise. I never believed I could do anything. I never really got any encouragement to do anything, to be anyone. I thought I was destined to be a runner up. I couldn’t even finish first in a contest of one. I never really applied myself—what was the point? Such an unfair untruth. And finally, I would start to savor the moment much, much earlier. I spent so much time and energy rushing to get ahead, arrive somewhere, that I missed the treasure of the current. I know this because I absolutely love staring into Asher’s face, cooing with him, noticing every change and nuance. I must have done this some with the girls, but not near enough.

Well, it’s time to get ready. I’ll let you know how it goes.

It went wonderfully. We were all showing off pictures of kids and/or grandkids. There was lots less hair and bigger bellies. The old adage that people don’t change was quite true for some—many in fact. And a couple of the guys that I just thought were the hottest things breathing when we were in high school just lost some of that luster over the years. I just made me smile.

One of the best parts of the evening was reconnecting with one of my very dearest friends. We had stayed in touch until 1989 and then life happened. Seeing her was wonderful. We will stay better in touch now.

The other best part was the hug and dance I got from one of my greatest high school sweethearts. He will always own a piece of my heart. What really surprised me was how I melted when he took my hand. Out on the dance floor we swayed to a classic Barry Manilow song, “Looks Like We Made It.” Time vanished and it was 1973 again. My heart is so happy that life is good for him right now.

Bottom line: I almost didn’t go. Our car broke down yesterday. I had a migraine on Friday. I was starting to wonder why so much seemed to be saying not to go? But I’m am so glad I went. I am very, very thankful that a couple people took on this fete and gave us a wonderful evening.

Now we look forward to 2010. The pictures should be quite interesting then!