How many years?

My 20th high school reunion was this past Saturday night.  20 years.  I have to let that sink in for a moment.  It doesn't seem like 20 years. Heck, wasn't summer just a few days ago?

There are a few people from high school I have "friended" on social media.  We were friends 20 years ago.  They live in the area.  Some even live close to the Cat Ranch.  I have even seen some at the market or out having dinner and always say hello.  I enjoy their posts about work and kids, but they aren't "friends."  They aren't the people I would call if I was bleeding from the head. 

Because the invitations went out on social media, I can see everybody who attended and all the photos that were shared from the evening.  Everybody looks happy and smiling with their capped teeth and dyed hair.  Cocktails and beers will do that to you.  I joke. It looked like a very nice evening. 

I recognized many of them.   Some I have never seen in my life.  (Really, I went to school with you? Could have fooled me.) Some people didn't change at all.  If other weren't wearing their name tags in the photo, I wouldn't have known them. 

It was mostly the 'in' crowd that attended the reunion.  The clique.  The cool kids.  I knew them all.  Had classes with them.  Taught some of them how to do calculus (don't ask me to do it now.)  I could have gone and made small talk with everybody in the room.  Maybe the clique has dissolved. 

The interesting part of the photos is that everybody grew up.  They aren't kids anymore.  They are middle-agers!  (Crap, that means I am one, too.)  The size 0 girls are now the size 10 women.  The boys are now men beer bellies.  This is what we can see on the outside!  Think about all of those knees that snap, crackle, and pop getting out of bed in the morning. 

You can also see the faces of those that never left high school.  They are basking in these memories of glory.  This was the prime of their life.  Back when they were cool and popular and still a size 0.  They peaked years ago.  20 years later at a restaurant in the city they are still trying to impress the cool kids.  Me, personally, I am still working on my stride and don't need to impress anybody but Walt Kowalski.

Here's the other thing about high school.  It doesn't matter.  It didn't matter back then.  It doesn't matter now.  It was an end to a beginning.  High school doesn't matter 20 years later. (Yes, I know there have been countless articles written about this.)

But you can't see that when you are IN the midst of the social anxieties of high school because it is your entire life.  Your entire world.  Good luck convincing a current junior high or high school student of that, too.  It was hard enough back then, I can't imagine it now with social media and the internet.

I sent Walt Kowalski this quote yesterday:

No idea who Steven Furtick was.  Had to look him up.  He's a pastor.  That's all I remember.  It's a good quote nevertheless.

There is truth to that quote.  Nobody brings their behind-the-scenes to reunions.  Heck, not many people bring their behind-the-scenes to social media.  Maybe that is a good thing, but it's hard to remember at times when you feel like nothing is going correctly.  The times the basement is flooding and there is mud in your shoes and the furnace doesn't work and the cats are starving because you stopped forgot to buy them food and you burnt the buns for dinner.  You don't see these struggles on social media.  But everybody has them.

Want to know what Walt Kowalski and I did Saturday night?  We stayed at home, in our sweatpants, sat at the bar we built, next to the fireplace we built, in the game room we remodeled and ate a delicious dinner of slow cooked pork and smashed potatoes after a full day of work at the Cat Ranch.  He was impressed.  Mostly by the sweatpants. 

Maybe we'll go to  the 25th year reunion.  First I need to lose 20 pounds, become successful, and find a cure for stink bugs.  Once I do those things, then I'll consider it. 

Maybe I better plan on the 30th year reunion.