Class Reunion

By Bob Hansen

An ominous envelope arrives in the mail. It looks similar to one that came ten years ago. What is it? Notification for the upcoming class reunion.

This simple piece of mail can cause terrible mental gyrations—at least it does in me. My first reaction? I should attend. I owe it to my school. Loyalty to ones school was big when we were seventeen. I no longer live in that community and now it’s hard to remember why the unquestioning alliance.

Still, one may come under the fire of guilt-arm-twisting. Someone decides to go to the reunion and calls class acquaintances. “I’m going. You have to too. Do it for Ludwig High. Do it for the Fighting Pigeons.” Doesn’t this prove that the initiator, despite their enthusiasm, is experiencing trepidation?

To combat the pressure, I have devised sound reasons for not attending, if that’s your preference. First, by showing up, as vibrantly youthful-looking as you are, you will discourage everyone else who has gone gray and added pounds.

There’s an even better reason, again centered on thoughtfulness. If you tell the story of your successful life, you will cause others to fall into depression. Or worse, they may be tempted to lie about their lives, in order to measure up to your high standards. Personally, I wouldn’t want to be a part of tempting others.

The last time I received this invitation, I set it aside, while I struggled with the decision. Surprisingly, time slipped by until it was too late. “Too bad,” I said, “I was looking forward to going.”

In all my mental gyrations, a single question haunts me. If I were a best-selling author, would I eagerly attend? Truly, I don’t know the answer. (That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.)

Please understand me. I don’t wish to negate the grand experiences many have at class reunions. For some, it’s a chance to renew meaningful friendships. I’m only acknowledging the anguish I experience when the invitation arrives. This is to my shame. I’m not pleased with my thoughts. They are self-centered. I think about being uncomfortable in a group of hundreds of people I don’t know. What will I say? How many times can I ask, “What have you been doing since high school?”

Some of my thoughts about reunions have changed since I first wrote this column for my hometown newspaper in 2003. When my next reunion comes up (it will be my 40^th) I believe I will go. I haven’t kept in contact with any of my classmates. I haven’t become a wildly successful novelist. But I have walked with the Lord all these years.

When I attended by ten-year reunion I come away depressed. So many were already on their second marriage—one was on his third. I was grieved to see what had happened in those few years.

But, we’re called to be salt and light. Therefore, how can I not attend the next reunion?

Bob Hansen writes from Chehalis, Washington. bobhansen6@juno.com