This afternoon, I was coming out of the library dressed in grubby garden clothes when a van pulled up, driven by a middle aged man with a couple of older women dressed for a party.
"Colleen, aren't you going to the reunion?"
Darn, I had forgotten all about that. I meant to lie low and avoid my old classmates.
I got the notice about my high school class's 50th reunion a year ago. I immediately e-mailed my two friends from high school to find out if they were going. Nope.
Norma went to a reunion long ago, maybe the 25th. She didn't have a good time. She was trying to talk to people but the organizers had loud music from the 50's and when she finally got into a good conversation, the ex-cheerleaders came over, all chirpy, and said, "Come on, you have to dance!" Sue went to another reunion. She didn't have a good time either. They had no intention of going to this one.
The Seymour class of 1962 was not a close one. There were cliques that ran the class and did their best to make those of us who were not fashionable feel inferior. College was such a relief.
I don't like social events all that much to begin with. Give me a mountain trail and I am in heaven. Put me in a crowd of people who are all trying to impress each other while getting tipsy and I plunge into a depression.
Add to that from my observations of those of my class in the area, and too many turned into Tea Party types. I am not the kind of woman who can keep quiet about politics.
When I thought about going to the reunion I simply felt depressed. It wasn't worth the money I would have to pay for a meal I didn't want to eat.
Why don't reunion organizers just plan a picnic where people could get together to chat without the loud music and expensive meals?
At any rate, I told the two women in the van that I wasn't going. Why not? Because I didn't want to. If someone actually wanted to talk to me, they knew where I lived. Then I promised I would go to the 60th reunion. I lied.
"Colleen, aren't you going to the reunion?"
Darn, I had forgotten all about that. I meant to lie low and avoid my old classmates.
I got the notice about my high school class's 50th reunion a year ago. I immediately e-mailed my two friends from high school to find out if they were going. Nope.
Norma went to a reunion long ago, maybe the 25th. She didn't have a good time. She was trying to talk to people but the organizers had loud music from the 50's and when she finally got into a good conversation, the ex-cheerleaders came over, all chirpy, and said, "Come on, you have to dance!" Sue went to another reunion. She didn't have a good time either. They had no intention of going to this one.
The Seymour class of 1962 was not a close one. There were cliques that ran the class and did their best to make those of us who were not fashionable feel inferior. College was such a relief.
I don't like social events all that much to begin with. Give me a mountain trail and I am in heaven. Put me in a crowd of people who are all trying to impress each other while getting tipsy and I plunge into a depression.
Add to that from my observations of those of my class in the area, and too many turned into Tea Party types. I am not the kind of woman who can keep quiet about politics.
When I thought about going to the reunion I simply felt depressed. It wasn't worth the money I would have to pay for a meal I didn't want to eat.
Why don't reunion organizers just plan a picnic where people could get together to chat without the loud music and expensive meals?
At any rate, I told the two women in the van that I wasn't going. Why not? Because I didn't want to. If someone actually wanted to talk to me, they knew where I lived. Then I promised I would go to the 60th reunion. I lied.
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