Re-onion

I'm not sure whether to be happy or to barf. It's coming up on my high school reunion and those people ... THOSE people... are coming out of the woodwork. Time plays funny tricks. I'm having online conversations with folks I wouldn't have talked to 20 years ago (and the feeling was mutual). The disdain of youth apparently ran out of steam. I feel better talking with them because I finally live well in my own skin. Who had to do that hard work? Not them.

In the mean time people I knew better in my teens approach with a familiarity towards someone I no longer am. She disappeared 3 metamorphoses ago. You remember who? Who did what? Now, would I hold that kind of shit against you? Ah, it's the folks we held close who know where the weak spots are (or were). Please let's not mention that year I was born-again? And I'll kindly spare the details of my drug-addict phase.

If only we could have had a hint back then and realized that all the posturing, all of the fear, all that thin ice we teetered upon in chunky heels, would soon melt away. If we could have only gotten a clue as to how silly it all was. How quickly we'd look back and regret the mile high curled hair and the mullets, not to mention those garish 80's colors. I wonder what people that age today will regret in later years? The tatoos? The ear expanders? The dred locks or droopy drawers? Where on earth do they make those balanced, well adjusted kids who are immune to fashion and put all their energy into their gifts and intelligence? Even the best of us were just not those kids. (sorry, Fred)

But, we came of age at the end of the cold war. By the time some of us were doing our summer slumming in Europe we could go on the cheap by hitting former Eastern Block countries. (well... I did!) We matured during the death of Keynesian economics. We remember the death of John Lennon like the our parents remembered JFK being shot. We were there at the birth of rap music and cable television. We weren't drafted into a foreign war. We are ephemeral miracles.

I give a holler to the class Salutatorian who has avoided the lot for 20 (or more) years. Only I know where to find her. Come on lady, it's time. Just show up.