Sunday, July 25, 2010

Take My Hand, We'll Make It I Swear

On the eve of my 20th high school reunion, I honor both the reality and the legend that was, and wasn’t, when I was but a wee peep living on a prayer back in the late 80s and 1990. First, here’s the general skinny on the SCHOOL. In all of Wichita, no school can claim such a BADASS architectural awesomeness. All other Wichita High Schools tremble in terror, just trying to live up to the art deco craziness that is North.

When I was but a wee beeb, acting out the movie Xanadu in my babysitter’s living room, I dreamed of someday attending North. My legendary babysitter Debbie went there, along with her too cool for school friend, Tony, and her boyfriend, the aptly named Darren (or Daryl?) who was always at her side, showing up at Minisa pool or even crawling through her window late at night for some hot and heavy make out sessions. I can attest to this, since I pretended to be asleep, all the while listening to the soft tunes of 107.3, Air Supply, Styx, and Bette Midler (with, perhaps, the saddest song I’ve ever heard, even to this day). I also overheard awesome stories of high school initiations down by the river, by fire, whipped cream, shame. I was dying to live it.

By the time I got there, initiations were over. It was total squaresville. The worst part was starting school as the half breed Freshmen, since ours was the only school that fed into North, so we were wee, tiny, and fully disrespected. Our class was tiny compared to the rest since the rest of the junior high kids wouldn’t join us until Sophomore year. It was balls, balls, and more balls.

Later as our class grew I adopted new friends, learned new levels of angst, and loved high school all the more. My friends, known by some of the underclassmen as the I.Q. Crew, were unbearably brainy, nerdy, and altogether out of their minds ready for unadulterated sin. Luckily (or terribly?) we had places to go, drink, and be stupid. I forged undying friendships in this period that last to this day. We spent so many precious hours down by the riverrrrrr. My ultimate glee is attending this upcoming reunion with them.

I am also, ultimately, grateful for Facebook and its unintended exposure of goodness that has rocked my world and learnt me a thing or two in the past months. I’ve learned that the HS cheerleader who I knew back in Brownie days turned out to be a righteously hilarious grownup that I’m glad to know. I’ve seen friends find their true selves and grow happier in the process. I’ve seen other friends grow up, get married, and have some of the greatest kids ever to walk (or cartwheel) this earth.

I feel really lucky to see everyone again. Because in our tiny, tiny world, it is quite a thing to grow up, grow out, and learn in the process to value the people you spent those urgent, fraught, utterly wild years with. But never so much as to not enjoy a good paddling.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

I very much like this, muffin!

Miss you already. Come live in my pocket.


10:59 PM  

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