The experience of attending a 20th High School Reunion, not the film. I drove through the town of Dallas Oregon, where I grew up, just to get a feel for things. While I was told later that the town has nearly doubled in size since I left (pop. 8,000 in the late 80's to around 15,000 now), most things hadn't changed. A Walmart had been built, but at the same time the Hong Kong chinese restaurant, the Arctic Circle and Dairy Queen were still around. The Taco Time cactus was still up, although the restaurant was a little local mexican place instead of the chain. And I was reminded just how many churches there are in this small little town. Literally one on every corner. My old house was still the same color and the little pine tree I planted in the side yard was about 100 feet tall. Still very much a small town.
I attended two gatherings of my class mates over two days. Many of them still live in the local area, raising their families in the local schools. But I was surprised at how much "modern fear" had reached this small town. When I grew up, we rode our bikes all over town, and even in elementary school, regularly rode the couple miles to and from school each day. My friends lamented that "proper parenting standards/culture" did not allow this practice anymore, even in Dallas. I had kind of hoped that this fear, at least, was relegated to urban America.
Upon first walking in to the first event, I had a small moment of panic. I did not recognize any of these people. Even when I looked at their name tags, I could not put the face with the name. This was going to be a long weekend. However, after a couple hours, the neural pathways were re-opening and I couldn't understand how I could be so blind. Now granted, this was not a 100% effective exercise. I knew going in that others would remember things that I did not, and I actually looked forward to refreshing my memory and supplementing by personal story with the memories of others. What I did not expect was to completely not remember whole individuals. Even after the weekend, and even after looking at names, and at faces, and at old yearbook photos, I still do not remember some of those in my graduating class. Did I really spend four years of my life with these people, at least in passing? Apparently not in my head.
The final analysis? With only a few hours to spend, divided among 60 or so people, there really was not time to get to the meat. We spent time laughing over a few memories, asking "where are you now?", "do you have a family?" and "how do you like it?". We lamented not seeing each other more often (especially those like me who live far away) and promised to stay in touch. But I also realize that this part of my history is exactly that ... my history. These people are not my present and I guess I can't really expect to have that "good friend, let me really know you" conversation for a couple hours once a decade. Overall, I enjoyed the laughs, picked up a few more memories, and look forward to the next one.
And BTW, I read another book ... The Shack
This was an interesting allegory, similar in style to the Perelandra of C.S. Lewis Space Trilogy, or even his Screwtape Letters. A guy goes to a shack and spends a weekend with the Trinity. While I found a lot of it formulaic, one interesting piece was his description of Jesus being fully human as a "minute-by-minute choice to limit oneself to the human experience". Kind of AA like, in a way. One does not have to have a plan for an entire life, or commit to never drinking ever again in life, but only a plan for now, or commit to not drinking now. Perhaps my existential nature is surfacing again, but it seems a call to living more in the present, and less in the past or future.
Next up: Wall-E and The Dark Knight ... I hope.
No comments:
Post a Comment