Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts

By Alyce Wilson

The Class President had planned a series of activities this past weekend to celebrate our high school class's 15th reunion.

The first event was a post-game party at his house, to follow the high school's homecoming game.

The Gryphon and I hadn't gone to the game, opting instead to see Eric Idle, who was performing in nearby Williamsport.

After the performance had ended, we drove to the Class President's house. It was on a country road, but I knew it was the right place right away when I saw the political signs at the foot of the driveway. The Class President had once run for Congress as a Republican against a popular Democratic incumbent. At the time, I was a reporter for the local newspaper and covered all his political rallies.

I fully expect him to be president some day. Or at least, a Senator.

When we saw the cars pulled up on either side of the driveway, we had no doubt we were in the right place. The Class President has a huge old farm house, which he is using his lawyer's salary to completely redo.

As we walked up to the front door, I said to The Gryphon, "Why do I get the distinct impression we're stepping into 'The Big Chill'?"

"It'll be fine," he reassured me.

The Class President was at the front door, talking to Most Likely to Succeed. She looked essentially the same, except for having gained a little weight from her most recent baby, whom she proudly showed off to everyone. He had the same blonde hair and blue eyes. He will no doubt once be voted Most Likely to Succeed, as well.

"How was Eric Idle?" the Class President asked. He'd apparently told everybody that's where I was going to be, because that was the first question anyone asked me throughout the evening.

I happily whipped out my digital camera and showed everybody the picture we'd had taken with Eric Idle.

"Oh, don't show that to my husband," Most Likely to Succeed said. "He'll start quoting Monty Python."

So naturally, when I met him, I said, "I hear you're a Monty Python fan."

"Yes," he admitted. He said that he'd thought about going to the Eric Idle performance but his wife had insisted on coming to the party instead.

"I understand you're not supposed to quote Monty Python," I said.

"That's true," he said sheepishly.

"What a bunch of rubbish. Quote it all you want around me and I'll never tell."

"Ni! Ni!" he cried gleefully, looking around to make sure Most Likely to Succeed hadn't noticed.

The Gryphon and I stood on the enclosed porch for awhile, chatting with whoever wandered by. We were near the beer, so it was quite a few. The Drum Major was there, but she was just heading out. She honestly did not look the slightest bit different than she had all those years ago. She was even still wearing a turtleneck with a bright colored sweatshirt. I had a vision of her clapping her hands together and saying, "One, two, three, four!" Then conducting us in a rousing version of "The Star Spangled Banner."

In addition to our class mates, there was an unexpected guest, my Kiddie Kaper Classmate. We attended Kiddie Kapers together, which was a preschool for children ages 3 and 4, whose parents wanted to give them a head start on school (and likely, get them out of the house for a couple hours every day). At Kiddie Kapers, we used finger paints, played store and kitchen, and even learned some fundamentals of the alphabet and numbers.

My Kiddie Kaper Classmate, my mom says, used to wait for me every day before he would go in. Then he would take my hand and we'd go in together. But then my parents moved across the river, and while I was not in a different school district, I did go to a different elementary school than any of my Kiddie Kapers companions.

Still, my Kiddie Kaper Classmate didn't forget me. And when he moved to another school district half an hour away, a couple years later, he wrote me a letter saying that he would miss me and begging me to stay in touch. On the back of the envelope, there was a little heart which said "S.W.A.K.," which every youngster knows means "Sealed With a Kiss."

I uncovered this letter a couple years back, going through all my old boxes of papers in my mom's house, having been asked to remove my stuff. When I read this letter, I wished I hadn't lost touch with him and did an Internet search, to try to find him. I wrote a couple of e-mails but didn't get a response.

When I told him all this at the party, he said he didn't get any of the e-mails, or he definitely would have written back. The warm way he greeted me, with a kiss on the cheek, left me no doubt that all was forgiven.

We finally made our way off the porch and into the living room/kitchen area. There on the coach was The Drummer. She was one of the people I had hoped would be there, someone with whom I had spent four rowdy, silly years in band. She and her husband, both accountants, chatted with me and The Gryphon for awhile, both sharing old times and catching up on new things. For example, she no longer goes by "Sue." It's "Susan" now.

The Class Secretary was there. He and the Class President are great friends. He detailed for us all the work that had been done in the kitchen area alone, so far, including rediscovering windows that had been walled over.

Although he looked a few years older, the Class Secretary looked the same as he had in high school. This is great, because he went through a stage in his younger years when he was dangerously obese. Then in high school he lost all the weight and got in shape, so it was good to see that he was still taking care of himself.

By this point I'd had a couple beers and I was looking around for the Class President. "Oh, he must be off playing hostess somewhere," I said. I had to catch myself. "Sometimes I have problems with gender pronouns," I explained. "I tend to call everybody 'she.'" Well, that's more or less the case.

I also frequently call my sister by my dog's name, which she hates. I can't stop doing it. I guess I spend too much time thinking about my dog. (Cue my dog coming over to the computer and staring expectantly at me. One of these days I've got to figure out how she reads my mind.)

We also said hello to the Football Player, who surprised me by revealing that he now works for an engineering firm in State College. Just goes to show that you shouldn't judge people just on the few things you know about them.

I spoke to the Outdoor Club Compatriat, with whom I'd done many club activities, including white water rafting and hiking a portion of the Appalachian Trail in New England. He told me that his younger brother, who came with us on that trip, actually just completed hiking the entire Appalachian Trail.

To him, I mentioned our mutual friend, currently living in California, who missed the reunion to go, instead, to India with his girlfriend. This friend has been hiking all over the world and keeps sending me pictures of himself on the top of mountains. I'm sure he would have appreciated me telling people that, although if I'd wanted, I could have made up anything.

"Yes, he caused SARS," I could have claimed. "Invented it in a lab in Sausolito, just for kicks."

More and more people grabbed their coats to go, and before we knew it, there were just a few of us hanging around the island in the kitchen, snacking on hors d'oevres. The Football Player and the Outdoor Club Compatriat were trying to figure out who lived in a more rural area.

"Can you hit the houses around you with a baseball?" the Outdoor Club Compatriat asked.

"Yes, I can hit every house with a baseball from where I am," the Football Player said. I imagined him, sitting on his front porch, methodically ticking off every house in the world as he struck them each with a baseball.

"I'd have to drive my baseball over to my closest neighbor," the Outdoor Club Compatriat said. He'd clearly won the "I'm more rural than you" contest.

But soon, even they were grabbing their coats, and so we said our good-byes to the Class President. He gave me a kiss on the cheek and thanked us for coming. We promised we would be there bright and early the next morning for a tour of the school, which has undergone many renovations in the years since we graduated.

If this night was any indication, a lot of us had changed and evolved, too. I couldn't wait until tomorrow.

More thoughts on my 15th reunion:

May 14, 2003 - 15 Years?

September 4, 2003 - Reunion Plotting

September 10, 2003 - Reunion Snag

October 16, 2003 - Reunion Countdown

October 24, 2003 - Idle Thoughts

October 29, 2003 - My Old School

October 30, 2003 - Catching Up

Copyright 2003 by Alyce Wilson

Musings Index

What do you think? Share your thoughts
at Alyce's message board (left button):