I think one of the reasons people think high school reunions are going to be awkward is because deep down a lot of people fear that their ex-classmates will remember all of the embarrassing moments from the past. While reunions are not awkward (THEY ARE NOT), that's not to say they don't have a few weird moments. It was weird to see Scott B's small children who looked exactly like miniature Scott Bs. If it was my nightmare instead of my reunion, I would have assumed the apocalypse started amidst an invasion of miniature Scott B people. Also, some people are bald now (me) and some people are fat now (not me!) and some people think jeans with big rips in the kneecaps are fashionable (Ian?). Ian, those jeans aren't fashionable. Lots of people have kids now too, but that's not really weird. People have been having kids since high school.
But the weirdest of all, the STRANGEST OF ALL, is that I graduated with a black guy I didn't know about. Let me be clear: my high school has a history of white-ocity (white-icity?). When I was in seventh, eighth, or ninth grade a black man who attended my future-at-the-time and past-in-the-now high school committed suicide. The incident briefly shone light upon the fact that Cedar Falls, IA (at least at the time) was almost entirely white. The mother of the student claimed the community was racist. I don't know about that, but high school can be difficult enough when you are "normal" and have a slight difference--you're an athlete who likes to read, you're a cheerleader who likes to read, you're a high school student who likes to read. I can't imagine how difficult high school would be if you had an obvious, visual difference...even if that difference really doesn't matter. Racism or not, being "different" is never easy.
Out of my class of 400+ people, I could have named four black people I graduated with before the reunion: Owannatu, Robert, Deondre (who is a great example of someone who tried to fit in by hiding his blackness: he refused to go by the name Deondre and instead requested to be called Jimmy because it sounded whiter), and Wendy.
When I walked up to my reunion, I saw two black people. One of them was Wendy. We all remembered Wendy. Wendy was great. Very nice. Very good. Go Wendy! Then I saw another black person who shook my hand and asked how I'd been. He wasn't Jimmy/Deondre. He wasn't Robert. He was too male to be Owannatu. In fact, his name was David! There was a fifth black person on the grassy knoll!
You know how everything has to mean something? Like how everything, no matter how insignificant, has some sort of grand meaning and leads to quality lesson every half hour or so? Because how life is a sitcom? Here's what I think this whole "I don't remember David" thing means: All the differences in high school? Everything that people were worried about people learning about them? None of them matter. Eventually, if you didn't stand out for some other reason, people will forget you. That's not a harsh assessment of David. I'm sure he's a fine person. If you did stand out for some reason, people will probably remember you, but they won't know why they remember you (like Wendy!). They'll forget mostly all of the weird stuff about you. Even obvious, surface-level differences don't mnemonically encode. Hopefully that means no one remembers the time in fifth grade I was leaning over my desk and accidentally cut wind in Erin Tarr's face.
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