It’s all downhill from third grade & Me
Posted July 7, 2010on:
I am going downhill or down river to St. Louis Thursday to my Ladue High School reunion.
I’m steeling whatever needs to be steeled to do this. As confident as I am now, I was not back in high school. I had my sense of humor then but if any blooming was to be done, it was to be later. Much later.
The reunion events this time are supposed to be casual and I’m taking the reunion planners at their word. Casual. No dresses; no nylons, I’m not even sure if I’m going to wear “the ladies.” I shall not explain that further. If you don’t know what I’m talking about then you have not been reading my blog.
I am counting on not having any high school anxieties, that enough years have passed to put those aside. And, I figure I will win the Miss Congeniality Award for having had breast cancer with the best sense of humor. (No, they don’t really give out that award. But if they did…)
A year ago I had the most wonderful reunion of my old Oak Estates neighborhood in Olivette, Missouri. It was far less estate-like then – mostly ranch houses built after World War II. Now that neighborhood has a bunch of huge houses on what used to be those modest ranches.
For this reunion, we stood around in a park for three hours just talking, laughing, sharing photos and reconnecting. The reunion idea was passed purely by word of mouth and email. Nothing formal.
That reunion was a few weeks before my breast cancer diagnosis. At the time, I figured I had no need to return for my 40th (gasp) high school reunion the next year. I didn’t want to feel those leftover anxieties of high school at a formal reunion.
But during this past year, I’ve stayed connected with those folks in the park and more old neighbors and friends via Facebook. And a couple had cancer surgery during this past year, which meant we had something else in common. We decided at some point that we’d all gather in St. Louis for the reunion.
So I’m on my way Thursday for events on Friday and Saturday. I decided to travel in a day early since I might go into my “fade” about the time that events are to begin. This way I can relax on Friday and be full of energy for meeting and hugging those folks.
So why is it downhill from here?
I mentioned before in this blog that my third grade teacher told my parents I was a whiz at math. I could do my multiplication tables with abandon, apparently something to be admired.
So in the last week, stunned that 40 years have passed since I graduated, I’ve been saying I’m going to my 20th reunion squared. A friend pointed out my grievous math error.
And when I was telling this story to my husband, I suggested 20 squared would be like my 4000-year reunion. He did the math. It would make it my 400–year reunion.
Only 40 years? I’m feeling a lot less old now. But my third grade teacher would be very disappointed in the whiz who clearly and mathematically fizz(le)ed (out).