I heard a song today “100 Years” by Five for Fighting. It so reminded me of the past weekend at my 40+ grammar school reunion. “I’m 15 for a moment, caught in between 10 and 20,” Such a watershed time on our journey to growing up.
I was raised in a blue collar town, where the majority of the Moms stayed home, and the Dads took the one and only car to work every morning. We didn’t go away on vacations; in fact our families invented the “stay-cation.” We walked or rode our bikes (usually a hand me down) around the neighborhood. If it wasn’t within riding or walking distance, chances are you weren’t going. Eating at a restaurant was unheard of, going out to dinner meant we were going to Grandma’s house for Thanksgiving. There wasn’t a lot of extra money but I don’t think we even noticed. We were all in the same boat. Everyone’s parents were called Mr. and Mrs., and they had the authority to give you what for, if they caught you messing around. Our parents had high expectations for us. Woe to the unlucky child whose parents got a call from another parent or, God forbid, school! One would have a lot of explaining to do, and lame excuses were not tolerated.
Lest you get the wrong idea, it was a wonderful time! We spent hours together at each other’s homes, or played together on the playground. Our summers were spent catching fireflies together. We attended Girl Scout and Boy Scout meetings, usually run by someone’s Mom or Dad. Our friendships were constantly changing, as we moved in and out of different groups of classmates, our best friend this year, might be our sworn enemy next month. We were new teens, scared of being un-cool, not fitting in, let’s face it, we were all around awkward! We had begun to notice one another, outside of the role of person who sits next to you in school. Our golden days of childhood were rapidly coming to a close. Goodbye to the age of innocence.
At the end of 8th grade we all scattered off to different high schools, meeting new friends. In four quick years we either went out to work, or off to college. As is wont to happen we, for the most part lost touch with each other.
The story might end here, but luckily it does not! Some of us who “found” each other decided to throw a reunion for our entire 8th grade class. We wondered if anyone would be interested, so we started making calls. One thing led to another, and the event was planned.
I am sure most people that attended, entered that venue with at least a little trepidation. “How will I be greeted?” “Will people remember me?” I know I did. I should not have worried about a thing! As we began to reconnect, something miraculous took place. The years fell away, and we were all back in 8th grade. My former classmates all grew into fantastic adults. We reminisced about the “old” days, caught each other up on where our lives had taken us. The overwhelming feeling was one of total acceptance. Everyone was sincerely interested in their former classmate’s stories. We all had that common ground of shared experiences that took place at a pivotal time in our lives. I think we realized that these people helped to shape us into the persons we have become, as we helped to shape them!
Old friendships were renewed, new friendships were forged. I was 15 for a moment, caught between 10 and 20, and it was awesome!
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