has it been 20 years?

It'll be a week of reunion-themed blog entries, just to warn the three of you who read this....

Full disclosure: I didn't go to my ten-year. I was living in my hometown still, about a month away from moving to Montreal to start grad school. I saw many of my former classmates around town, and I wasn't especially curious about the lives of the people I had graduated high school with. No, no bitter memories of high school. I did well in school, and by and large I thrived in the social environment. Or so it felt to me. I hit ten years, though, and I just felt like I didn't need to be connected at that point. Looking back, there's no doubt to me that, valid as those feelings were, I still had some growing up to do.

Even a year ago, I wasn't thinking of going to my reunion. Dion and I talked about it a few times last year, and though it was fun to toss out names and figure out where people were, I still didn't feel like I needed to be connected. The reunion invitations came out, and I politely declined.

It nagged at me, though. Gently at first, then more so. I woke up one morning a handful of months ago, and I was resolute in my feelings: we were going.

My former classmate Becca, in her "Where Are They Now?" write-up, has hit it well: there's a sense of community I'd like to regain. By and large, I liked the people I went to school with. I wished ill of no one, not anymore for the one or two whom I might have disliked twenty years ago, and I genuinely wanted to hear about everyone's contented and interesting lives. It was a good decision, and I am grateful to Dion, Liza, Becca, and Michelle most of all for their gentle persuasion.

Last night, while Conrad had an evening to rest after a very long day of travel, I met some former classmates at The Yale here in Vancouver. Over loud live music (but good music - I enjoyed it, and I'm hoarse this morning from yelling all night), several of us got caught up. Liza is the only one, to the best of my recollection, whom I've seen in the past 20 years. She and I last saw each other in Toronto in 2003, and we'll see her again there this autumn. The others? Two decades come and gone. A few of the classmates there last night will not make it up to Terrace this coming weekend, so I was especially glad to see them.

What strikes me is that, with the exception of Sherrie - I truly did not recognize her when I got to the bar, but goodness, she's a beautiful woman - everyone looked quite the same to me. Becca's hair is darker, and so is Adam's from what I could tell in that lighting. Otherwise, though, we're all the same, and that's an extraordinarily comforting feeling. Except that we're not the same, are we? I have no idea who around the table had old histories with each other, but for one all-too-fast evening, it was seven of us enjoying beer (wine for Pam) and getting to know each other once again. Not quite community, but somehow regaining something that had spent 20 years in limbo.

They'll hate me for the old yearbook photos here, perhaps, but it is fascinating to see how much we've changed/not changed. It makes me all the more excited for this coming weekend.

Adam now...... and then...


Becca then... ... and now, with Adam...


Jann Marie then... ... and now, with me...


Liza then... ... and now...
...and with Jann Marie...


Pamela then... ... and now...
... and with Liza...


Sherrie then... ... and now...
... and with me...