finish line
This weekend is my 20th class reunion in Michigan. As the resident writer of our tiny class, I was asked to write the foreword to our reunion book. These were my thoughts:
At the Starting Gate
In the two short decades we have been out of high school, even class reunions have changed. Many mini reunions happen every minute on Facebook and across the internet. We don’t have to wait for chance encounters or an annual Christmas card to keep up-to-date with old friends. Long lost friends are only a click away.
Sadly, traditional class reunions are best known for offering up the chance to measure ourselves against others. Since we all had the same starting gate, those who are further along the path are surely winning.
Right?
In high school, we measured success by grades, future plans and ambition. None of us planned to stumble, trip or fail. Divorce and job loss happened to other people. Money woes wouldn’t dare to visit our doorstep and health concerns were for old people. Success was a breath away.
Now, with our own stumbles, it is easy—and natural—to grab a score card and start tallying before the first drink at the reunion is poured. We shared a starting gate—it’s only logical to expect the same finish line.
We think if she has more (or less) kids than me or if he has a better car and bigger paycheck, then they must be in the lead. If she can still wear a miniskirt (fashionable or not) and he still has all of his hair, they must be winning.
But in truth, we are not all striving for the same end goal. Even in our tiny class, we have city dwellers and country folks. We have worldwide travelers and homebodies. We have business people, the self-employed, teachers, factory workers, homemakers and students of life. For some, the ideal family size is 2.2 children—but others prefer five or more and yet others desire none. We have cat lovers, dog lovers and even oxen lovers.
None of us are going to die with equal checking account balances or the same list of accomplishments. We are not all on identical paths anymore. One classmate’s road may veer left while another’s course circles back before angling right.
It is futile to compare dress sizes, social status or bank accounts. The currency is no longer sameness—but contentment.
Small, Sweet Things
Life hasn’t always been as we expected.
We had grandiose plans in high school and no reason to believe that we couldn’t achieve each and every one. The future wavered before us in a golden haze.
Some of us have been visited by true tragedy. We have lost parents, children, jobs, faith and sometimes hope. Others have been ground down by small things like gritty sandpaper.
Even those of us who would categorize the glass as overflowing have had our moments of surreal disbelief, questioning our paths.
Am I heading in the right direction? Is any of this worthwhile? Why do other people seem to have it so much easier?
We work—some in careers meticulously planned out while others in jobs we stumbled into or merely tolerate. Others still are searching—in a dismal job market that stands in stark contrast to the decadent 90s.
Many have found themselves in school halls again—a new adventure with creakier bones. Some live vicariously through their students or through their children.
Each milestone we pass—graduation, college degree, new job, new baby, school vacations, new grandbabies—each one makes us think we should be racing against someone. We compare our intimate, messy interiors with the glossy façade of others.
Twenty years ago, we left the halls of Union City High School cocky, arrogant and confident—a golden path at our feet. Now—marinated in the daily-ness of life—few of us feel the siren’s call of the BIG things in life.
Instead we have learned to relish the small, sweet things:
- A good book
- The smell of water on tomato plants
- A household project checked off the Honey-Do list
- Dinner out on pay day
- Hand addressed “real” mail
- Fall nights with football echoing in the distance
- Summer rains that scrub away the humidity
- Family get-togethers when everyone gets along (!!!)
- Warm towels
- A hug that squeezes the breath from you
- Answered prayers
- Firefly glitter in a corn field
- A clean car and a full tank of gas
- All the laundry done, folded and put away
- Riots of color in the spring
- Fresh downy snow disguising the landscape in winter
- Date nights
- A shoulder to cry on
- A balanced checkbook
- Hammocks in the breeze
- The smell of burning leaves
- Friends who knew us 20 years ago and still want to know us 20 years later
Class reunions aren’t about comparing and measuring ourselves against one another. It’s about remembering that first starting line where we all stood together over 20 years ago—and discovering what finish line each of us have chosen for ourselves now.