Reunions Revisited

July 2019

During an 1,100-mile drive home the day after a class reunion, you have a lot of time to think. On Sunday, I hit the road at around 4:30 am, then had plenty to smile about while passing through Minnesota, Iowa, Missouri, Kansas, Oklahoma, and North Texas.

During our events on Friday and Saturday, I mentioned to a few people that I felt an inordinately strong emotional/sentimental attachment to Two Harbors and our classmates. I doubt that I’m alone. Whether it’s Two Harbors, the Twin Ports or the Twin Cities, home is home. North Pacific salmon swim upstream to return to their birthplace after four or five years. North Shore graduates return to Two Harbors every 10.

Nature mandates it.

I could write it all off with a two word explanation. “It’s home.”

It would be easy to stay in the shallow end of that pool but cross-country windshield time pulled me deeper.

Obviously, all 160 of us weren’t best friends growing up. But from kindergarten thru graduation, we frequently crossed paths and shared a critical life experience:

We grew up together.

We were all there as each of us learned, in our own way, how to coexist with each other—and with our teachers, coaches, and everyone in the community. We watched each other succeed, fail, perhaps embarrass ourselves, bounce back, and, ultimately, grow.

I did some dumb things. I said some dumb things. We all did. Much of that occurred in plain sight of our classmates. But we kept rolling forward.

Didn’t we all have the same questions?

• Will I fit in?
• Will people like me?
• What will I be good at?
• What will I be lousy at?
• What will I be “when I grow up?”
• Is 6th grade really going to be as hard as they say?
• How do I become one of the cool kids?
• Are my clothes OK?
• What music is cool?
• Will anyone ever invite me to a birthday party…or a sleepover?
• Ginger or Mary Ann?
• Or, Jeannie (Barbara Eden) or Marcia Brady or Samantha Stevens (Elizabeth Montgomery)?
• David Cassidy or Bobby Ross?

We all endured embarrassing moments.

• Do they really expect me to wear THAT swimming suit during gym class?
• Dancing?
• Singing?
• Oh shit, we have to play Dodge Ball in gym class today?
• Talking to girls. Talking to boys.
• Shit, I hope the teacher doesn’t call on me today because I have no clue what he/she is talking about.
• Our voices were changing.
• Our bodies were changing.
• Awkwardness was the norm.
• Will I be asked out on a date?
• How do I ask someone out on a date?
• 4,000 questions about interactions with members of the opposite sex

For some, it was more complicated.

• “I’m a boy, and I seem to like boys.”
• “I’m a girl, and I seem to like girls.”

The questions weren’t always happy.

• Why can’t I get better grades?
• Why does no one want to play with me?
• Why do people call me names?
• Why won’t anyone sit with me during lunch?

We experienced so many of these things together. Sometimes, quietly with just the thoughts in our head. Sometimes, quite publicly in front of others.

As I look back, I struggle most thinking about those who were bullied or excluded. Why was I ever a part of it? Why didn’t I have the courage to stop others from doing it?

As I’ve grown older, I’ve often thought about the challenges many classmates may have faced at home. Whose family life was chaotic? Who was physically or emotionally abused? As a 10-year-old, my parent’s divorce was difficult to process. But I can think of many worse things. As a child, how did we learn to cope with those “behind closed doors” experiences & still do our best to persist?

Some had to develop far more resiliency skills than others. Even in such a small town, everyone’s childhood was unique.

We all followed the unpublished class reunion game plan. Five or ten minute speed-dating conversations to bridge 40 years.  

“Great to see you.”

“How have you been?”

“Nice visiting with you.”  

“Who’s next?”  

Many people, little time.  

Reunion weekend isn’t viable for everyone–some by choice, others by fate. People’s lives are busy. Reunion induced anxiety repels some. Others can’t travel. Some prefer creating new memories over revisiting the old ones. It’s all OK.  Meanwhile, twenty of our classmates could only be present in spirit. Good friends, childhood acquaintances, gone far too soon. From our first steps down the path, until each of us reaches the end of our road, twenty souls with whom we are forever connected. While the rest of us surely have our ups and downs, we are blessed to still be alive. God bless our departed classmates.

These gatherings don’t organically happen. Every graduating class has a reunion committee–the folks who hold everything together for the rest of us stragglers. The Two Harbors, Minnesota, High School Class of 1979 was blessed to have Carol Gralewski Anderson, Paul Engelson, Dennis Winter, Wendy Carlson Eliason, Judy Udenberg Minnick, Mary Erno Hedin, Robin Mayfield Kovacovich, Mike Cable, and Mike Seeber. 

As the sun set on summer evenings, while my brothers and I were playing “night games” with the neighborhood gang, my parents used to open the back door and yell, “Stevie, Larry, Tommy, time to come home.” At 10-year intervals, our reunion committee now serves the same purpose, reminding each of us classmates that it’s time to come back home. 

There’s an adage that “you can’t pick your parents.” I’d add, you can’t pick your childhood classmates.

I’d say that we all did quite well with the latter.