"Get over yourself, Scotty."

I survived class reunion weekend with minor scathes.

So except for major open bar abuse, it went off pretty well. I was disappointed that I found it so hard to recognize people I should know. The guys were particularly hard. A guy I’ve also known since third grade and had a crush on for about 10 minutes in fourth grade, is now bald and spreading frighteningly around the middle. Unfortunately, I think he never got over the fact that I had a crush on him briefly and I think he thinks I harbor romantic inklings towards him. To which I say, get over yourself Scotty. I’m happily married and my husband has all of his hair and could bench press you all the while discussing the finer points of early Roman civilization and culture.

I talked to some people that I hadn’t really talked to them in years – or just didn’t talk to enough in high school. One such person was a girl named Lori. We weren’t friends in high school. We may not have talked. But she was so sweet and nice at the reunion, that I regret that now. I found out she’s an overnight dj at 96.5, so I’m going to make a point to listen to her and maybe give her a shout.

I also talked to a girl named Lisa, who I have known since first grade although haven’t been close to in a good many years and I’m so glad I did. She’s funny and witty in a self-deprecating way. And of course, dear old Jill, who thought I was trying to set her up with my husband when I told her I had the perfect guy for her…. it was a very funny few minutes as we assured her that we weren’t putting her on the spot. It made me glad I went to talk to these girls.

Everyone recognized me. At least, I assume they did. Some people I preambled with my full name, just in case…. and maybe that was stupid. Most of the people I talked to have known me since third grade, and really, I haven’t changed that much. My hair is longer and my skin is older (and by that I mean pimples have given way to smooth skin which has given way to freckles, laugh lines and crows feet). And I have a more developed sense of style.

So yeah- reunions are fun. If we have a 15, I probably won’t go. But I will go to the 20th. There were people I avoided, and there were people I probably should have avoided. I definitely was nervous chatty with a few. And there were probably some people who thought: why on earth is she talking to me so much?

My yearbook quote was: I do not want people to be very agreeable, as it saves me the trouble of liking them a great deal.

I think it’s safe to say I’ve mellowed in the past few years. While it’s true that I do look for the best in people and have entirely too many friends, according to J, I’ve stopped trying to find the good in every person. Some people are not agreeable, and I have no longer have problems not liking them.

I found it ironic that a girl who was very popular throughout high school and used her popularity to be mean and spiteful is now a mother of three, and very recently married. If I were her, I probably would have given up the past and be a friendlier, nicer person. That’s not the route she opted for, shooting cool, judging glances over toward me, Stacey and Joy. I caught her eye on at least one occasion, and she clearly looked me up and down with not a trace of nostalgic friendliness that I had seen in even the most aloof popular girls.

But I do feel good that we invited two of our classmates to join us for a while. The two had been sitting on the outskirts, not talking to anyone. But they came over and joined us and chatted for a while. JS reported that her mom saw the husband in church, and he said that he had a great time at the reunion. That made me feel warm and fuzzy.

In fact, I’d say that was the day’s high.