The Big Reunion Decision

Can anyone convince me that I should go to my 20th high school reunion? It would be no problem for me to convince someone else to go to theirs. I’ve encouraged countless people to attend reunions with simple rationale: It’s lame not to go.

Who wants to be lame? Not me. But I also don’t want to revisit the person I was in high school—and I’m not sure how to avoid that in such a situation. It’s not like I was the pot head or the class hussy. I wasn't much of anything, actually, except self-righteous and self-absorbed.

Somehow, I managed to leave high school with some good relationships. I’ve stayed in contact with my closest friends. One I talk to several times a week. But I’d much rather meet those friends one-on-one at Chili’s without the pressure to lose five pounds, get a cute new haircut, and coach my children in the art of polite conversation.

Here’s a refreshing idea for a reunion: Come as you are! The only requirement is that you have be honest about who you are. (Could anything be more opposite from high school?)

“I had to double up on my Xanax just to be here.”

“Yeah, I married a babe, but you should hear her snore.”

“My house is being foreclosed on as we speak.”

“It cost me $120 to be this blonde.”

“These size 6 jeans are cutting into my stomach flab so badly that I want to cry.”

“I’m bribing my children with candy and a trip to Waterworld to appear this charming.”

“My resume’s impressive, but I’ve never felt lonelier in my life.”

“I’ve been in counseling for 10 years and am still so angry.”

“My marriage is on the brink of divorce.”

Or how about this one: "We feel called to live among the poor." Now there's a party starter.

The older I get, the less I can stomach superficiality. Can a high school reunion be anything but superficial?

Probably I’ll end up going, trying just as hard to impress as everyone else, and having a few pleasant conversations in the midst of dozens I can’t really hear and wouldn't care about even if I could. If all goes well, my husband won’t collapse from boredom and my children won’t whack anyone. And if it goes really well, maybe I’ll be surprised at how transparent and mature we've all become in our old age.

Or maybe I’ll just be lame and stay home.