where did the last 20 years go?

This past weekend was the dreaded (by me) 20th class reunion from Berkeley High School. That's right. Class of '89.

Jimmy and I missed the 10th reunion because we were in Guadalajara at the time and didn't have money just to fly home for the weekend. So we promised ourselves that we wouldn't miss the 20th, no matter what.

No matter what.

Unless Uncle Sam intervened.

Which he did.

Which meant I had to attend the class reunion by myself. It's one thing if you've never gotten married or you're happily divorced and you have to attend these functions on your own. But if you are happily married and have to attend the reunion from a high school from which you and your spouse graduated and the aforementioned spouse is missing... well it looks bad. I was already paranoid about how I looked with all these wrinkles (really laugh lines, but who can tell the difference except me), so to go solo was just embarrassing. I Skyped Jimmy earlier in the day on Friday and asked him if he thought I could get rid of some wrinkles between then and 7pm. He said I could but we couldn't afford what it would cost last-minute, so I had to go with wrinkles and graying hair - all without him.

I was originally going to boycott the whole thing because I wanted them to have it in July when Jimmy would be home but the people on the committee chose to have it in August. Which I guess is their prerogative, but whatever.

The festivities included a meet and greet at the Dock on Friday night, a family fun day on Saturday at Short Stay on the lake, the reunion dinner and dancing at the country club on Saturday night, and a worship service on Sunday morning. Until about Tuesday, I intended to attend the Saturday night function only.

And then I had a dream early in the week that I missed a lot of good stuff by not attending the meet and greet. I know. It's pathetic to dream about your class reunion. But that shows how pathetic my life is right now and I've been an insomniac since I started work last Monday, so quite frankly I was happy to be in a dream state, no matter what the dream.

After the dream, I talked to my posse to find out if any of them were going to the meet and greet. The Coxes were so I knew there would be people there I knew and recognized. Then on Thursday, our friend Dara connected via email and we decided to go together, which meant I had somebody to walk into the room with, which is a big thing for me. You know that instant when you walk in and you don't know if/when you're going to see a familiar face? I hate that instant. So the two of us braved the instant together and recognized a few people, but really questioned who the majority of the people were and if they were even in our class because their names didn't ring any bells. A lot of those folks have either improved dramatically or declined dramatically; shockingly nobody looks the same as they did 20 years ago.

As planned, Mac and I skipped the Short Stay event. The last time I heard about Short Stay was a year or two ago when a man got his arm bitten off by an alligator there. That made the rounds all the way down in Brazil. No need to tempt fate with alligators or quite frankly see anybody or be seen by anybody from my class in a bathing suit.

The next event was the dinner and dancing on Saturday night. I went with the Coxes after which we met the Ackers at the event. I had a GREAT time and just wish Jimmy had been there because he would have loved catching up with all those people. I recognized a few more people than the night before but gosh, it was hard for a couple reasons. One was because they all looked different. And secondly, the sweat was dripping in my eyes and causing me not to see so well. It was about 110 degrees in the country club. Honestly, if I were a July bride and had my reception there, I would demand a refund because of the extreme discomfort caused by their poor air conditioning system. It was H-O-T but such good fun.














And finally Mac and I went with niece Hayley (who was with us for the weekend along with baby Blair) to the church service which was led by members of our class who went into the ministry. It was a lovely ending to a great weekend and - not surprisingly - not nearly as well-attended as the party events.

So as our alma mater starts out, "Here’s to thee, our alma mater, dear old Berkeley High, ever shall we cling together as the years go by." I can't wait for the next reunion. Maybe I can even bring Jimmy next time.