This Saturday is my ten year high school reunion.
Just before we graduated high school, we learned that we should always wear our sunscreen. We are the millennials: we grew up on My Little Ponies, New Kids on the Block, and NES. We grew up with slap bracelets around our wrists and can appreciate the current Silly Bandz fad. We loved trolls but think Furbies were and are creepy. Our DARE officers warned us about the dangers of stamps with attractive cartoon characters on them. We were tying yellow ribbons round our old oak trees when we were in 5th grade during our first round in the Gulf. We can remember when Germany was both East and West and grew up in the shadow of the Cold War but by the time we were in middle school, the Cold War just seemed so “retro” to us.
Most of us were probably in 7th grade lunch when O.J. Simpson was acquitted and I think we were all pretty much second-hand embarrassed for the Clinton family. Our parents may or may not have withdrawn all of their money from the banks in anticipation of Y2K. We found ourselves making exit plans from our homerooms in a post-Columbine world. And just when we thought the world couldn’t get any more fucked up, we went to college, spent a year getting comfortable, and then Sept. 11th happened, just a week or two into our third semesters of college. And we went to war in the Gulf again. Up until just a few years ago, Hurricane Andrew was the most significant natural disaster of our young lives, until Katrina, the Indonesian tsunami, and the Haitian earthquakes quickly blotted those marks from our memory. We were too young to remember the Challenger but Columbia is still fresh in our minds. And we always stayed away from open wells, lest we end up like Baby Jessica.
We were the kids on the brink of the millennium, the Class of 2000. And this Saturday is our ten year reunion.
. . .
In the age of Facebook, as one of my fellow classmates reminded me recently, a reunion seems kind of silly. If we want to see what’s going on in someone’s life, we simply friend them online. I’ve learned from FB that a good number of us are married. And of course, a good number of us have kids. I’ve been lapped already by many. What’s more stinging sometimes are when you realize that friends from college who are younger that you have lapped you. I know it doesn’t matter, but it still rubs raw.
I thought for sure by my 10th reunion I’d be married with at least one child by now, whether out topside or heating in the oven. “Outlook not so good” says my prognosticating pool ball.
So shocker if I suddenly don’t want to engage my 18 year old self’s sense of jealousy and loathing of the women I always found myself competing with in high school, those popular girls who you knew would make ridiculously beautiful children with those popular guys. And it’s those same girls who are organizing the event. (I know, I know- it’s statistically solid that at least 1 out of every 8 of those popular girls faces infertility, but high school drama dies hard.) So a $100 per couple ticket, no food, and a venue that makes so sense in terms of location isn’t my idea of fun. If I wanted to keep in touch with you since high school, I’ve pretty much already extended that effort.
And that’s why I’m not going. Instead, I’m staging an anti-reunion.
I put out a Facebook event page inviting folks to the diner down the street from our high school instead of driving into to Philly where we have to pay tolls to cross the bridge and attempt to find parking on a Saturday night of a holiday weekend. It’s at a reasonable hour- 6pm until we’re done as opposed to 9pm-2am; this was mostly self-serving, as I have a 6am flight to Miami the next morning. I invited my core group of friends from high school- not just my fellow 2000-ers, but my friends who were grades above and below mine. I meant it mostly for my fellow choir divas and band geeks, but as I’ve left it open for pretty much anyone to invite, I’ve got a pretty good number of people who are just as annoyed with the scheduled 10 Year Reunion logistics as I am who are now attending.
It’s kind of refreshing, really.
So while I’m still cringing in anticipation of the “here’s a picture of my kids” and “oh, I’m not drinking because we’ve got another one on the way” – at least this will be with a group of people that I truly cared about 10 years ago, as opposed to standing in a room full of people I can barely tolerate even 10 years later. And while I totally recognize that I’m still just as wildly successful without kids just 10 years out from high school graduation, I still have a nostalgic pout on my face and a heavy sigh about it all.
But I’ll get over it.
And if all else fails, I’ll just show up as a Secret Agent Cowboy Millionaire to my anti-reunion.
Here from ICLW 🙂 I'm also from the class of 2000 and we have our reunion this weekend. You could not pay me to go. Especially because the flyer for the thing was godawful. It says (can you tell you've got me on a rant?): "Remember a time when you read the comics instead of the business page? when you thought about who you'd sit next to in lunch, rather than at the meeting? when a babysitter was someone you were, not someone you hired? when being carded at a bar made you feel nervous instead of complimented?"
I mean seriously, I'm not 40. Sheesh.
Sorry for the rant, I got all worked up 😛 Anyway, sending you prayers and best wishes.
I am a few years older than you (I was Class of 1995). I do have to say that all of your references made me giggle because I was right there with you. (Which NKOTB did you crush on? I was a Joey girl and I actually attended a concert from their reunion a couple of years ago. Still smokin' hot…)
Anyway…We didn't have 5 year. I attended the overpriced 10 year, but that was shortly after we began TTC. The sting of infertility hadn't hit yet.
When it came time for the 15 year, I decided that I would rather have my fingernails pulled out than to attend. It was (as they all seem to be) at an overpriced location. I don't remember the cost per head count, but it was similar to the $50 a pop of yours and that didn't include any alcohol. And it would, inevitably, remind me of all that I hadn't acheived in my life. I don't regret missing it at all.
I hope your anti-reunion is marvelous!!!
My 10 year reunion was this past summer…I didn't go because honestly I just didn't want to deal with it…Everyone was convinced that I'd be bare foot and pregnant with 10 kids….not so much.
I remember air-raid drills hiding under our desks in elementary school….in case the Russians attacked.
Your idea sounds a lot more fun than a stodgy reunion.
You crack me up! I have my 10 year reunion Friday night… Though I bought a ticket, I haven't fully decided if I want to go, or fall into a well. Hope you have a lovely Thanksgiving! 🙂
Well – it definitely sounds like your event organizers just kinda sucked. 😛 Kudos to you for listening to what people actually WANTED.
ps – I will never forget about Baby Jessica!
Love this idea. I've never once been to a reunion … high school was mostly a place full of people who annoyed me. I think reunions ought to change … so that they're not about the same cliquey groups that people had over 10 years ago.
Wave on your way down the NJ Pike! 🙂
To echo Keiko, there's a few key items to consider.
1. Cost vs. what we're getting. I'm getting cheaper as I approach 30, what the hell am I going to be like when I hit 60? Highlighting that is that wife's insurance is about to DROP infertility coverage at the end of the year… so we just pushed our chips "all-in" to try IUI before what coverage she has expires. That made the idea of floating an extra $100 even more painful.
2. One of our very close still single friends was told that she would HAVE to buy a minimum of 2 tickets to this reunion – therefore costing her $100 just for herself. I can still hear her laughing at the reunion organizers after that email….
3. While there are some good people that I'd like to see at the reunion, I'd rather see who isn't going.
I personally thanked the people who are putting on our reunion – but also respectfully declined to send them my $$. I hope that everyone who does go has a great time.
And for the rest of us 'others' -Cya at the diner.
Hi Josey- thanks for the honest feedback! It's much appreciated. To respond to your points and provide some context…
1) TOTALLY forgot the Smoke Free campaign! Yet another memory to chuckle about. I'm sure there are other Class of 2000 gimicks I've forgotten about.
2) We didn't have a 5-year. In fact, I asked about it, as did others, and there was radio silence from our Class Council. We were all dubious as to whether our 10 year was even happening.
3) Shortly after I was diagnosed, I learned that 3 other friends of mine from high school are infertile as well. IF is an indiscriminate mistress, indeed.
4) I also had a pretty large social circle. I lived and breathed choir and drama club. I actually helped raise the profile of our music department when I was selected as one of 16 students in NJ to attend both the Governor's School of Music and the All Eastern Chorus (eastern seaboard states). I was (and still am) a total geek. I loved school in that I loved my friends and the activities I did. There was a lot about high school I did not like as well: certain teachers, certain classmates, gym class in general.
5) I responded to the emails, the FB messages, and the request to fill out an online survey over a year ago. I told them that I was willing to pay ~$25 a person, and that I was interested in somewhere local to our high school itself and somewhere fancy, or at the very least, classy. A sports bar in Philly at $50 a head didn't really meet any of this criteria, and based on the number of folks heading to my thrown together at the last minute event, didn't meet a lot of their preferences either. (The cost is what really bugs me. My husband's 10 year is the same weekend, and at the same price. But at least half of his ticket cost is going toward a memorial scholarship in honor of a deceased classmate.) Our cost is for venue fees and bar tab- it's a little outrageous if you ask me. And they did ask me, and I gave them my feedback.
But like a lot of things, my Class Council didn't really listen to the needs our class and did what they wanted to despite our input: prom, class trips, cancelling the Junior Ring Dance, etc. Word through the grapevine is that most of the folks even going to our reunion are the organizers and their spouses, and their small circle of friends.
It may not be 2000 anymore, but some things never change.
Hm…a few thoughts on this.
1) I was the "Smoke Free Class of 2000" as well, and all of your references made me bust up laughing. Well written indeed!
2) I was the girl who got the "privilege" of organizing our 5 year…and our 10 year…and probably every reunion for the foreseeable future. Who knew Student Council was the gift that keeps on giving? It's an assload of work.
3) I'm an Infertile. Yeah. It sucks. So you're right to remember that 1 in 8 are struggling, so it's pretty good odds that the coordinator is a fellow IFer.
4) I had a lot of good friends in high school. I was one of those crazy people that actually loved school. I was also the Math Team captain and a huge part of the choir and band. I was a nerd.
5) I agree that your event organizers need to get a clue (our 10 yr was from 6pm-10p, $10 to get in, and that included appetizers)…BUT (and this is an honest question), did you give them that feedback when they asked for input on ideas for the 10 year? If they didn't ask for input, feel free to ignore this point. If they asked for input and you didn't give it and NOW you're hosting and anti-reunion…it's just plain selfish and undermines the insane amount of time the organizer has put into the reunion planning already.
I don't mean to come across rudely in this comment, but I know how hard it is to plan a gathering like that, and it frustrates me to no end that STILL as adults, people plan cliquey anti-parties. Is it still 2000 or not?