I received in the mail today a “Save the Date” postcard. My 20 year high school reunion is this year, midway through Wedmath.
I’m not planning on attending.
The reasons aren’t complicated, and were probably best explicated by Martin Blank in Grosse Pointe Blank — “I don’t know what I have in common with those people any more.” I left West Virginia a long time ago. I’ve been back once, and as I wrote in my “Dear Me” letter, I’m not that person any more. I’m not sure I can add more to that.
I don’t even feel old enough to have a 20-year reunion on the horizon. (And, in a way, I’m not; I was younger than most of my classmates by a year or two.) I didn’t attend the first reunion a decade ago. I definitely didn’t feel old enough then.
The card puts it all in relief. This weekend marks twenty years since I graduated from high school. Tempus fugit.