September 17, 2018
Once the dust settled upon my 30-year high school reunion on Sunday, August 26, 2018 it allowed me to reflect back how someone not only pressed fast forward over our high school years, but the entire reunion weekend. My last month’s post, “Sands of Time Passing Below My Feet” I shared about how time seemed to somehow to speed up with each passing year. I drive by my high school at least once a day, making it less convincing of how many years have truly passed by. A combination of mixed emotions came over me as the reunion date neared; excited to partake in the festivities of the reunion but at the same time my own insecurities rattled my anxiety. The closer the date came to the event, the worse it became, combined with the last-minute decision of friends I was hoping to catch up with not planning to attend, just added to this uneasiness. A part of this was many of my classmates had known each other from middle school and just as many if not more from elementary school. I was an outsider attempting to break the invisible barrier of everything new; large school, seven new teachers, breaking into cliques, making new friends and at the same time finding and figuring out me and who I am.
The reunion weekend arrived. I found a parking spot at Friday night’s event held at a dive spot (not literally) at Dania Beach. I exited out of my car and prepared to pay the master meter when my nerves started to rattle, again. My thoughts raced on who will I meet up with first? How do I start a conversation with someone I have not seen in at least 5 years perhaps some more than 15 years? Do I stand as a wallflower and observe the situation before beginning to mingle? Well, rather than extend the story more than I necessary, let’s just say, I found one person I kept in touch with and then allowed myself to be blended in with the others. In the end, I was able to free myself, let my introverted defensive guards down, stay put for the moment and enjoy myself. With the sun setting rather quickly on the outside venue, it didn’t allow for much facial recognition with all the nameless faces. Once the night’s darkness took over the day’s light, our outdoor evening it became more difficult to know who you were socializing with. A good number of classmates as well as others gathered in the small venue, conversations began to open up, which allowed for the memories to come back to life, much like a forest coming back to life after a long hard winter. The sharing memories and stories helped me eventually place names with faces. I stayed longer than I hoped but it was a good introduction to Saturday where I wouldn’t have shown up feeling as if I were a stranger among friends. A side note, I pass this dive bar on my bicycling path and have never been there and found it surprisingly filled with good service, food, drinks, music and people.
I offered to arrive early on Saturday to help prepare for the night; decorate, setup or do whatever needed to finalize the venue prior to everyone arriving. The evening was at a local golf and country club and was to be a dinner and dance night set to the theme “Party Like Its 1988!” After a couple of hours, the early guests began to arrive; some dressed to the nines as if going to some major formal while others dressed comfortably to remain country club casual. The night was filled with the coming together of cliques in a more intimate scene. With the help of a well-stocked bar, the cliques managed to dissipate and then the intermingling with each other began. Within a short time, the social barrier lifted, shadows of our guests were able to open up and be ourselves and to reminisce the bygone years. The entire evening was filled with an eclectic selection of 80s music playing in the background, with random awards given, cheerful conversation and lively laughter. Again, I allowed my introverted self to be set free, to catch-up to the present, to share a memory and to accept defeat of how 30 years escaped all of us. As I observed around the room, I was one of the few living the moment and not through the eyes of a smartphone to update my social media accounts. After closing down the evening, a large group decided to continue the party at a local club – and that’s when I decided to exit stage left, and head home and recharge.
The reunion weekend concluded with a beach side picnic on Sunday. A day’s worth of food, beverages and activities were casually planned but our gathering was marginal compared to the previous two nights. I’d like to think many over slept; recovering from the night before, some visited with remaining family who still live in town, others drove aimlessly around to see how their high school hometown has changed from their last visit and others began heading back to their lives, back at home. Though I don't regret not extending my Saturday's festivities, I do wish I was able spend more time with some on Sunday and to send them off them a fond farewell of a safe journey home and hopes to see them before the next reunion. Somewhat, sentimentally bittersweet, the timing of everything was meant to be and with it came a new set of memories created, only to be shared once again when we all reunite again.
Similar to all high schools, our class did have the dreaded stereotypical cliques, the jocks, the cheerleaders, the nerds, the geeks, the potheads, the artists, the small school bus riders, the brains, the loners, the leaders, the popular ones that everyone knew their name and others circles. While many congregated the halls, lunch hour and extracurricular activities within their cliques, our class was unique in that friendships crossed over cliques and weren’t looked down upon or berated by others. I am sure there was a handful of individuals or more from each clique, grumbled upon this and rolled their eyes at this practice, but this was a select small group of our entire class, but most could care less. The reunion, much like our first day of high school, many were comforted by familiar faces passing aimlessly in the hallways between classes and reunited at lunch. Our reunion brought together long-lost friends, catching up without skipping a heartbeat, as if they just saw each other the day before, but this time it wasn’t 30 years ago nor in the halls of South Broward High School. Perhaps, some did see each other day before, while others may have done a better job keeping in touch and visiting each other between reunions and for some, this will be their first time returning since walking the stage at our graduation.
Amazingly, the hands of time, once again brought our class together. An embroidered image of the bulldog spirit slowly unveiled with each reconnected friendship and each new friendship made. Many crossed a few time zones, some drove through several states with a handful of those still living near. It was great to share time together this past weekend, albeit too short. As for me, an introverted outsider coming in, partaking in a large group activity is not only overwhelming but socially exhausting. The weekend allowed me to be set free and move about at my own pace and being fully welcomed and accepted. It once again proves why our Class of ’88 is still great. Perhaps it was one of the many reasons, our class was called by faculty, as the last class of innocence. The experience allowed me to take time to get to know someone new from our high school days that I didn’t get to know as well as I wished, or wished I should have gotten to know them a little better and the time was right to make a new friend or two. It’s great to catch up and rekindle those longtime friends (some even longer than just high school) but in making new ones just as special by promising to do a better job to keep in touch.
Our weekend was filled with plenty of excitement and festivities and by the end of it, I too, was preparing to adjust back to my life as I know it; back to nuances and routines of my daily life, work, family and friends and relaxation. With the help of various social media, we are able to peek through the peepholes of each other’s lives, among the hundreds on our timelines. Social media has a bad habit of pushing those closest to us further away; conversely a benefit is that it brings those furthest away closer to us. Much like my blog, we are able to catch up, through one snapshot: a picture of a thousand words, a moment in time and sometimes sharing a story, even if it’s just one post at a time.
I don’t intentionally shame or shun anyone but for those living near and couldn’t find a way to stop by for even one of the events of the whole weekend, it may be worth the exception. It was a loss not only on your part, but your classmates for you to miss a great weekend. Many of asked about those in absence and shared excitement in possibly to reuniting. I realize lives often get in the way of living and priorities and emergencies happen, but at the same time our together is limited as we never know what tomorrow may bring. We all have taken many different roads since high school and have our own busy lives, but I encourage participating in the next one, mark the calendars early, once the notice goes up and not let time become your excuse or an enemy.
As another new week is begins, we all settle back into our daily lives, filled with chaos once the alarm clocks went off on Monday, August 27, 2018. Some of us may have pressed snooze one last time others of you scrambled out of bed to get ready for what the day ahead brings. Within the shadows of our 30 Year Reunion of South Broward High School already becoming nothing but a distant memory and a cup of chai latte in tow, I return to writing about another milestone is written into the chapter of my journey in life. My memories of this weekend will remain with me, filled with our senior prom’s theme and nostalgic memories of what were truly “The Best of Times” and hope my classmates remember those days as when they “Had the Time of Your Life” and with “The Best is Yet to Come.”
The reunion weekend arrived. I found a parking spot at Friday night’s event held at a dive spot (not literally) at Dania Beach. I exited out of my car and prepared to pay the master meter when my nerves started to rattle, again. My thoughts raced on who will I meet up with first? How do I start a conversation with someone I have not seen in at least 5 years perhaps some more than 15 years? Do I stand as a wallflower and observe the situation before beginning to mingle? Well, rather than extend the story more than I necessary, let’s just say, I found one person I kept in touch with and then allowed myself to be blended in with the others. In the end, I was able to free myself, let my introverted defensive guards down, stay put for the moment and enjoy myself. With the sun setting rather quickly on the outside venue, it didn’t allow for much facial recognition with all the nameless faces. Once the night’s darkness took over the day’s light, our outdoor evening it became more difficult to know who you were socializing with. A good number of classmates as well as others gathered in the small venue, conversations began to open up, which allowed for the memories to come back to life, much like a forest coming back to life after a long hard winter. The sharing memories and stories helped me eventually place names with faces. I stayed longer than I hoped but it was a good introduction to Saturday where I wouldn’t have shown up feeling as if I were a stranger among friends. A side note, I pass this dive bar on my bicycling path and have never been there and found it surprisingly filled with good service, food, drinks, music and people.
I offered to arrive early on Saturday to help prepare for the night; decorate, setup or do whatever needed to finalize the venue prior to everyone arriving. The evening was at a local golf and country club and was to be a dinner and dance night set to the theme “Party Like Its 1988!” After a couple of hours, the early guests began to arrive; some dressed to the nines as if going to some major formal while others dressed comfortably to remain country club casual. The night was filled with the coming together of cliques in a more intimate scene. With the help of a well-stocked bar, the cliques managed to dissipate and then the intermingling with each other began. Within a short time, the social barrier lifted, shadows of our guests were able to open up and be ourselves and to reminisce the bygone years. The entire evening was filled with an eclectic selection of 80s music playing in the background, with random awards given, cheerful conversation and lively laughter. Again, I allowed my introverted self to be set free, to catch-up to the present, to share a memory and to accept defeat of how 30 years escaped all of us. As I observed around the room, I was one of the few living the moment and not through the eyes of a smartphone to update my social media accounts. After closing down the evening, a large group decided to continue the party at a local club – and that’s when I decided to exit stage left, and head home and recharge.
The reunion weekend concluded with a beach side picnic on Sunday. A day’s worth of food, beverages and activities were casually planned but our gathering was marginal compared to the previous two nights. I’d like to think many over slept; recovering from the night before, some visited with remaining family who still live in town, others drove aimlessly around to see how their high school hometown has changed from their last visit and others began heading back to their lives, back at home. Though I don't regret not extending my Saturday's festivities, I do wish I was able spend more time with some on Sunday and to send them off them a fond farewell of a safe journey home and hopes to see them before the next reunion. Somewhat, sentimentally bittersweet, the timing of everything was meant to be and with it came a new set of memories created, only to be shared once again when we all reunite again.
Similar to all high schools, our class did have the dreaded stereotypical cliques, the jocks, the cheerleaders, the nerds, the geeks, the potheads, the artists, the small school bus riders, the brains, the loners, the leaders, the popular ones that everyone knew their name and others circles. While many congregated the halls, lunch hour and extracurricular activities within their cliques, our class was unique in that friendships crossed over cliques and weren’t looked down upon or berated by others. I am sure there was a handful of individuals or more from each clique, grumbled upon this and rolled their eyes at this practice, but this was a select small group of our entire class, but most could care less. The reunion, much like our first day of high school, many were comforted by familiar faces passing aimlessly in the hallways between classes and reunited at lunch. Our reunion brought together long-lost friends, catching up without skipping a heartbeat, as if they just saw each other the day before, but this time it wasn’t 30 years ago nor in the halls of South Broward High School. Perhaps, some did see each other day before, while others may have done a better job keeping in touch and visiting each other between reunions and for some, this will be their first time returning since walking the stage at our graduation.
Amazingly, the hands of time, once again brought our class together. An embroidered image of the bulldog spirit slowly unveiled with each reconnected friendship and each new friendship made. Many crossed a few time zones, some drove through several states with a handful of those still living near. It was great to share time together this past weekend, albeit too short. As for me, an introverted outsider coming in, partaking in a large group activity is not only overwhelming but socially exhausting. The weekend allowed me to be set free and move about at my own pace and being fully welcomed and accepted. It once again proves why our Class of ’88 is still great. Perhaps it was one of the many reasons, our class was called by faculty, as the last class of innocence. The experience allowed me to take time to get to know someone new from our high school days that I didn’t get to know as well as I wished, or wished I should have gotten to know them a little better and the time was right to make a new friend or two. It’s great to catch up and rekindle those longtime friends (some even longer than just high school) but in making new ones just as special by promising to do a better job to keep in touch.
Our weekend was filled with plenty of excitement and festivities and by the end of it, I too, was preparing to adjust back to my life as I know it; back to nuances and routines of my daily life, work, family and friends and relaxation. With the help of various social media, we are able to peek through the peepholes of each other’s lives, among the hundreds on our timelines. Social media has a bad habit of pushing those closest to us further away; conversely a benefit is that it brings those furthest away closer to us. Much like my blog, we are able to catch up, through one snapshot: a picture of a thousand words, a moment in time and sometimes sharing a story, even if it’s just one post at a time.
I don’t intentionally shame or shun anyone but for those living near and couldn’t find a way to stop by for even one of the events of the whole weekend, it may be worth the exception. It was a loss not only on your part, but your classmates for you to miss a great weekend. Many of asked about those in absence and shared excitement in possibly to reuniting. I realize lives often get in the way of living and priorities and emergencies happen, but at the same time our together is limited as we never know what tomorrow may bring. We all have taken many different roads since high school and have our own busy lives, but I encourage participating in the next one, mark the calendars early, once the notice goes up and not let time become your excuse or an enemy.
As another new week is begins, we all settle back into our daily lives, filled with chaos once the alarm clocks went off on Monday, August 27, 2018. Some of us may have pressed snooze one last time others of you scrambled out of bed to get ready for what the day ahead brings. Within the shadows of our 30 Year Reunion of South Broward High School already becoming nothing but a distant memory and a cup of chai latte in tow, I return to writing about another milestone is written into the chapter of my journey in life. My memories of this weekend will remain with me, filled with our senior prom’s theme and nostalgic memories of what were truly “The Best of Times” and hope my classmates remember those days as when they “Had the Time of Your Life” and with “The Best is Yet to Come.”
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