Maybe I’m a reunion guy after all.
Though I’m definitely a birthday guy, preferring to observe and sing loudly. But that’s a subject for another week…
I wasn’t going to our 50th Georgetown reunion, My Captor helpfully supportive of whatever decision I made. But my attitude reflective of my reunion phobia.
I’ve no idea how it became a phobia, but giving it a ‘psychological moniker’ makes it seem more serious, and less vaguely pathetic.
The festivities began with a Thursday dinner of just a few close friends at a classic Georgetown restaurant, but I knew I’d miss it due to my late scheduling interview.
Upon our interview return from Savannah, the ‘regrets’ began – the pain of missing the reunion outweighing the potential joy, a weird human instinct, that. Pain more motivating than joy?
Reminding of ‘The Belt’ behavior modification as a child…
That, combined with our son’s remark that “You might never see your friends again” – and I guess they me – made the decision.
But I appreciated his high-class alternative to “You could all be dead soon, you’re getting pretty old”.
I decided to go, the feeling of relief letting me know it was the right call.
We left the house Friday at 5A for the 10-hour drive to DC, planning to stay at our daughter’s house for the weekend.
The evening began with an ‘intimate’ dinner – a small group of us shouting at each other in the back corner of a busy restaurant – allowing us to catch up with old friends.
Which I guess is the point of reunions, huh?
Fortunately, we knew each other well enough to tell the truth about how things are.
Post dinner, we progressed to McDonough Arena, for the evening event.
Which turned out to be F U N.
Another point of reunions, huh?
There were lots of people I hadn’t seen for a while – reunion points everywhere! – and the catch-ups were pleasant and brief.
Brief enough to hear just the good things that have happened.
There were lots of people I didn’t know – or couldn’t remember – and they were a ‘different’ looking group.
As I guess I am too. But a reminder of the old Quasimodo look-alike contest joke: And the crowd turned old!
It was a great time – so glad we went.
One regret: We didn’t have time for a beer(s) on The Wall, near the library in the center of campus; we’d spend college Fridays (and occasional other days) drinking beer and berating classmates foolish enough to attend class.
Oddly, no one ever fell off the wall.
That this is a key regret tells you a lot about my college experience…
But the night reminded of ‘Reunion Rules’:
Be careful how much you drink – unless someone else stumbles or passes out, diverting possible attention – then let ‘er rip.
Never hit on chicks at your reunions. Matching my college success rate…
While the university is “glad to welcome you back”, you’re a profit center for the weekend.
Things definitely change:
At our 10th, we lied about ourselves, at the 50th our grandkids.
At our 10th, everyone headed to another bar afterwards, the 50th starting and ending much earlier – what time is Jeopardy?
At the 10th, people tried to impress with how much money they made, at the 50th people envied anyone who had their original hips, or didn’t have cancer.
The reunion a real blast: I’m looking forward to our 100th!
Again, a good time; but life returned to normal on Saturday with a 9 year-old’s soccer game and 2 baseball games – – really good times!
ENHANCE YOUR ENJOYMENT OF THIS POST, PAIR WITH THE FOLLOWING ‘AGING HIPSTER MUSIC/READING’:
Deer Tick’s new album will have to wait – – new MODEST MOUSE album, which is really good!
And Love Is Not Enough still available on Amazon. What a great read for anyone who has dealt with mental health or addiction issues. Or just wants to read about family love and recovery.