Theodore Roosevelt High School’s class of 1995, my class, is having its ten year reunion this weekend in San Antonio. I was all gung-ho to go until I found out it was going to cost about $200-300 to attend. It breaks down like this: $89 per person for not registering early, and an additional $10 fee for buying tickets within the last seven days prior to the event. Then I have to drive down there and all the way back up to Dallas and Oklahoma the very next day. Insane. At that expense you really have to ask yourself, “Do I want to pay $300 to see people I never bothered keeping in touch with on my own?” No offense intended and none taken, since none of these people bothered to keep up with me either. I’m still planning on going, but only because I told a couple people I would be there. I also want to see the sheer spectacle of it all. The competition to see who makes the most money, has the smartest kids, or the most sincere and good-looking spouse. Why am I going? Do I have something to prove like that? Maybe that my life is “on track”, but then why should I care what anyone else thinks about that? I certainly don’t give thought to what anyone else has done with their life.
Going down the list of attendees there are about 4-5 people I would really like to see. I’m disappointed at all the people who decided not to go. Many of those are the people I was closest to in high school, the perpetually uncomfortable or maybe just the worst at hiding our discomfort. But again, we could have all stayed in touch on our own if that’s what we wanted. When I think about high school, all I see are experiences good and bad, much like the rest of life. Experiences shared with my fellow travellers on this extended road trip called life. There has been a lot of looking backwards this year. Ten years gone and spent. Ten years past a period of much signficance and discovery, when everything seemed new; possible and impossible all at once.
While writing this I have decided not to go after all. I am impulsive, unreliable, and, most importantly, cheap. My apologies to any of my former classmates who expected me there. I will gladly treat any of you to dinner one on one, just drop a line of some sort. One more request, please burn me a copy of the “memory CD”. Whatever the hell that is.
I admit I kind of wish you were going so that I could hear from you about all the various people and how they ended up. But even if I had graduated from there and stuff I wouldn’t go myself, so it’s understandable.
Yeah, I’m a little bummed about it, but you know… i guess it’s no biggie.