One of the reasons I wanted to go home to Northern Michigan last month was to attend my high-school 25-year reunion. 25 years! I’d looked forward to it for months and now, having missed it, I’m a little melancholy.
One of the reasons I wanted to go home to Northern Michigan last month was to attend my high-school 25-year reunion. 25 years! I’d looked forward to it for months and now, having missed it, I’m a little melancholy.
The school I attended was (and still is) small – 150 or so kids in the whole high-school wing. Yes, I said ‘wing.’ The whole school was K-12 in one building. It wasn’t exactly like the old one-room schoolhouse, but not too far from it, either. You can imagine that after 12 years of attending classes with the same kids (for the most part) they become a bit like family.
That’s true of my class. Most people I talk to don’t bother with their class reunions, but to me, it’s like catching up with my brothers and sisters.
We’ve lost 2 class members since our 20 year get-together; Arley was killed in a snowmobile accident and, most recently, Patty died after battling leukemia. I still see them, and all my classmates, as they were 25 years ago. Full of life and ready to tackle the world.
During my elementary years, my best friends were Pam, Allison, Kim and Michelle. In middle-school, I hung with Christy. Christy had the biggest paper-doll collection I’ve ever seen and we’d plan clandestine paper-doll play dates where she’d bicycle to my house, balancing 2 paper shopping bags bulging with paper dolls. We’d play for hours. We also made a lot of prank phone calls in those days. I’m so ashamed.
In 9th grade, my best friends were Karen and Christy. We were all “going with” guys from the same neighboring town who happened to be friends themselves. In fact, I think there was a lot of setting-up back then.
By 10th grade, Pam, Allison and I started to hang around with Terri and her sister and some of our older cousins. I guess that’s when I started drinking and smoking dope. Terri and I also decided that we were going to try out for the cheerleading squad for no reason other than to make the cheerleaders’ lives miserable. Terri was a gifted athlete, but I did not expect to make the squad. Had the judging been strictly teachers or students from our school, I doubt that I’d have made the team. However, that year the school had arranged for some of the cheerleaders from Northern Michigan University to come out and judge. I made the squad.
Terri and I spent the whole year making practice miserable for the others and getting smashed and high before the games. I remember packing pints of booze in my gym bag and mixing it with orange juice to drink on the bus. I remember smoking weed in the locker-rooms and picking fights with girls from the opposing teams. If there were a time of my life that I could do over – this might be the one.
At the end of the year, the coach told me not to try out again. I can’t remember now if I did 1 or 2 years as cheerleader.
By the time we were Seniors in high-school, there was a rift in our class which split us into 3 groups: The ‘heads,’ where I belonged – we smoked pot and drank a lot; the ‘jocks’ where the girls who wore pink belonged and then the neutrals. We had 3 separate Senior parties. Our group made voodoo dolls of two of our classmates and then felt a little guilty the next day when he showed up for graduation rehearsal with crutches. I’ll say here that the rift was mainly between the girls – the guys were all, whatever.
I wrote an essay in those days, parodying our class division, and even though it wasn’t in line with our assignment for that day, my journalism teacher read it in front of the class because he thought it was so funny. Before I graduated, this teacher introduced me to the Dean of Journalism at NMU and told him that I’d be a good candidate for an internship. The second thing I’d do over, had I the chance, is to follow-up with that Dean and pursue the internship. I was so naïve then!
My journey since high-school has been relatively free of pot-holes or big bumps. I’ve made plenty of mistakes but have cleaned up my act. I believe God has used these experiences to shape me into who I am today. And I’m okay with who I am.
Over the years my class has celebrated 10, 20 and 25 year reunions. This was the first one I’d missed. I miss you guys! And to each of you I wish safety, peace and happiness to our 30 year reunion, and beyond.
Class of ’81 Hawks:
John, Christy, Jimmy, Michelle, Mark, Jane, Arley (in memory), Richard, Allison, Robbie, Candice, Brenda, David, Theresa (still Terri to me), Kim, Lyle, Bob, David, Robert, Beth, Pam, Karen, Leah, Jim T., Wendy and Patty (in memory).
That’s all of us.
For the most part, I love my childhood memories. My family is close-knit and there’s a security in knowing that in a small town you can count on your neighbors. There were a few kids, though, who didn’t enjoy the same experience I had. One, in particular, will forever haunt my memory. I’ve written an essay, called Remember This Face. You will find it under Short Stories – Fiction. I published it as fiction, but we all know – or maybe are – this girl.