High School Reunion

1978 was a long time ago now.  35 years as a matter of fact.  It's the year I graduated from high school.  Jimmy Carter was president, serial killers Ted Bundy and John Wayne Gacy were captured, Moonies were handing out carnations in airports and big cities, J.R. Ewing became a household name, Grease starring John Travolta and Olivia Newton John was released, the Susan B. Anthony dollar coin was supposed to replace dollar bills, 909 Americans died in the Jonestown Koolaid massacre, and I believe my pastor was born that year. We all wanted Farrah Fawcett hair, leisure suits looked slightly less stupid than they do now, and if you had Jordache jeans all was well. I was driving my parents' cars, either their Mercury Capri or their Ford Ranchero (I hated driving the Ranchero.  It failed to start more than once, leaving me stranded after my shift running the cash register at Woolworths).  But my dad ingeniously cut apart a Chevy Vega that summer and mounted part of it on the back of our Ranchero for an epic road trip to the west coast and back.

Of course my brother and I rode in the Vega's bucket seats while my parents traveled in the Ranchero.  It was all very safe, I'm sure, ahem.  We did have working windshield wipers and a Radio Shack intercom to communicate between the two compartments.  How else were we supposed to get four people and a pop-up camper across the country?

But I digress.  Let's see.  1978.  Class reunion.  Well, I noticed that we've all gotten rather old-looking.  Some of us were unrecognizable (at least three people called me Connie and my name is Lisa).  Others' looks had miraculously barely changed.  It's nice that people are grownups now.  Everyone got along and was friendly.  The big questions were "where are your kids these days" and "how are your parents doing" and "do you have any grandchildren yet".  Didn't seem like people were too concerned with status or popularity or accomplishments.  It was rather refreshing.  And at my table we didn't even reminisce about high school.  We were too busy saying things like, "Who is that guy over there in the blue shirt?  Whoa!  Seriously?"

I didn't want to go to my reunion because social gatherings are always somewhat uncomfortable for me.  But I'm glad I went.  It was enlightening to re-cast my stale 35-year-old perception of my classmates.  I'd love to hear your comments about reunions you've attended.  You can leave them at the bottom of this blog, or on my Square Pink Marshmallow facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/SquarePinkMarshmallows. By the way, I'd love it if you'd "like" my page while you're there.  Thanks!