The Purpose of Reunions

Five Reasons Why You Should Go, plus the most important one of all!

Last week, as I attended my 50th high school reunion, I asked myself over and over again, "how did I get here?” I’ll admit, I hesitated to go. There were plenty of sound reasons for not going: I now live in another state . . . the cost to attend would need to account for farther transportation . . . I’ve lost touch with most of my classmates (the last one I attended was the ten-year reunion) . . . I don’t remember very many from my graduating year any more . . . and the most meaningless one—I’ve moved so far away from it now, might as well just leave it in the past. But curiosity got the best of me and after all the conjecture, I wound up going. “You only get one shot at this,” I told my questioning self. “Might as well experience it. For what it’s worth.”

As a writer, I know the value of new experiences and new encounters. So, apart from an unexpected deterrent like a death in the family or natural disaster, I was positioned to attend, and since no untoward events prevented me from going or swayed me the other way, I managed to show up, albeit still a little incredulous.

Here are some of my takeaways:

1. There is no such thing as popular kids, smart kids, jocks, cheerleaders, band nerds, or any other kind of nerds, fifty years post-high school. The melting pot of seniors (speaking of older adults now) is more fused than ever.

2. It gave me an opportunity to take stock of my life. Mostly, it made me feel grateful.

3. I could sense gratitude from everyone present, too. No matter how well you knew the person back in high school, or if you even remembered them at all, there were big hello’s and hugs, and a sense of kinship with people who all started out in the same place. That was the one thing we all still had in common.

4. A reunion—especially a fiftieth—incited me to reflect on where I’ve been and where I am now. Self-reflection takes on a whole new meaning when whizzing back some fifty plus years!

5. Reconnecting is its own kind of special. Beside the comfort of familiarity, I was surprised at how much I have evolved in relation to my past. It’s never too late to rediscover ourselves or rekindle old friendships. Never too late to gain new perspectives.

And the biggest reason of all, the one that tops the list . . . I’m still alive. I’ve made it this far.

The memorial table displaying photos of classmates who’ve passed was somber and moving as many of us gathered around it to reflect on those who have already departed this life. The coming years will certainly require a longer table.

Although the turnout was good, there were many who did not attend, many I’d hoped to see there. As I drove away, people I hadn’t thought about in years, popped into my head. It’s amazing how a reunion can jog your brain. I’m glad I chose to be there and am grateful for the triggering flashes of memories.

A trip down memory lane included driving down the street where I played and grew up since I’ve moved over 570 miles away and haven’t been there in the last five years. After my parents passed, the house they lived in for 57 years was purchased by builders who intentionally knocked it down to put up a bigger, modern house. In place of our 2400 square foot Cape Cod is a modern, 5-bedroom, 3600 square foot house with a two-car garage, longer driveway and four times the amount of windows. One thing did remain though. My father loved his plants and trees. He was a horticulturist (without the degree) who took care of his yard with perfectness bordering on obsession. It was around 1968 I believe, when an impulsive purchase of a Japanese Maple caused a squabble between my parents. My frugal mother thought that spending $500 on a bush back then was frivolous. I remember she was furious and an argument ensued. But as the years went by and the Maple grew and filled out more, it became the focal point of our corner front yard, the one that everyone complimented and talked about. Eventually, even my mother came along. I pulled up along the side of the street opposite where my house once stood to look at that Maple, evoking all kinds of memories surrounding it. Who would have thought that that would be the single last physical piece left of our family’s homesite, embodying the passage of time in all its quiet splendor?

This month was eventful in many ways. I enjoyed another book club with a wonderful group of ladies and what a fabulous time we had. We discussed my book, Elizabeth’s Mountain, and everything in between!

I love book clubs! Contact me. I will send you bookmarks and gifts, and book club questions. Invite me to join you via Zoom, or if possible, in person.

Happy Halloween to all!

“I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.” —L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

Lucille Guarino