Now, you must understand that technically I did not graduate from West Hazleton High School. I actually moved at the end of my junior year to Mechanicsburg Area High School and then spent my senior year there due to my dad getting a new job which required us to move.
Since my dad had been a career military man, I had been used to moving; however, this move--my 5th move since birth--was the hardest for me. I re-visited that pain, standing in the reception area at the reunion that night.
You see, I graduated from one high school as basically a nobody, among kids I didn't know. Yet here I was, at a reunion of a high school (from which I didn't graduate) among friends who cared enough about me to make me an honorary member of their class. Although I didn't really belong to either school, here I was included and treated as one of their own.
Most of the kids that I knew and hung out with back in the days of Duran Duran, a newly birthed MTV, jordache jeans and big hair, decided for what ever reason, not to attend. I couldn't imagine not showing up...I waited for it all year long. Being there with this class was something I would never take for granted.
I never really belonged anywhere, having to move so often, and these people meant something to me; they reminded me that, for a short time, I did belong somewhere. I was liked and accepted, I had friends, and I was happy. It would be a long time until I ever felt that way again.
I had butterflies in my stomach as I waited at the bar for my coke because I hadn't really recognized anyone yet. But then, as I turned around, my friend John was standing there. He said hello and then pointed to his name tag in case I didn't remember him. I smiled and told him that of course I remembered him and hugged him. He introduced me to his wife and we talked for a while.
Talking to John calmed my nerves enough to look around and discover others that I hadn't seen since high school. Now, I should say that I had stalked and re-connected with some via facebook, but seeing them in person had been since high school. Like my junior high school buddy, Scott.
My fondest memory of him was sitting next to him in homeroom, laughing hysterically at his imitations of the shop teacher. The only time I ever got sent to the principal was when I "pantzed" him (pulled down his shorts...we had a bet on who could pull each other's pants down first...sick I know, thinking about it) in gym class. I remember sitting in the school office, scared to death, waiting for Mr. Schneider to return to his desk. Mr. Wooditz, the assistant principal, came in and asked why I was there. I told him what I had done and he busted out laughing and told me to get to class.
After giving Scott a big hug at the reunion, we reminisced about our glory days at Rock Glen Jr High. We lost touch in high school, but being with him again that night was just like old times. The same thing happened with my friend Matt. Everyone just called him "Feeko." He was cute (don't you ever tell him I told you), with a mullet-like haircut, and he was really really funny. And he and I shared the same deep hatred of our 10th grade geometry teacher.
Now Feeko was all grown up, mullet gone, but still cute and funny and married to someone way out of his league. He and his wife had 3 boys and a happy life. Good for them.
Just before the group photo was taken, my friends Leesa and Becky come in. I wasn't sure if they were coming, but I was so relieved to see their faces. Neither one had changed since high school. Even though Leesa had been my college roommate freshman year, she still looked the same since high school. We went seperate ways our sophomore year, and I failed to keep in touch with her, something that I deeply regretted because she was fun to live with. I was glad that I got the chance to tell her that before the night was over.
Our friend Becky, was still saucy and spicy as ever. She had the incredible gift of speaking her mind. I was reminded of that when she announced to everyone during dinner, as Duran Duran's "Girls on Film" was playing in the background, that I would not believe that the song was about pornography. I laughed and replied that I thought that they were just talking about taking pictures of models...I was soooo naive back then! I refused to believe that the greatest band since the Beatles would sing about stuff like that.
Sitting next to me, was this guy named Adrian, who had to be one of the nicest and all-around decent people I ever met. He was a kid that we all had picked on at one time or another in junior high. I remember him never retaliating, though. Once, during typing class, he was getting picked on and the teacher joined in. I could feel my blood boiling when I stood up and yelled "why don't you all just leave him alone?!" Later that night my dad got a call from the typing teacher telling my dad that I had been disruptive in class that day. I told my dad what had happened and he bent down and gave me a kiss on my head and told me that he was proud of me.
Here, over 25 years since that event, we're all sitting together, laughing and talking like one big group of friends.
Talking with Adrian, I was honored that he remembered me as a friend and not someone who had made his life miserable during those earlier years. We filled each other in on our lives and talked like old friends. I learned that he still lives on his farm and takes care of his mom. Boy, what a catch he would be to any of you single ladies out there.
In addition, to that last statement, both John and Adrian were not the jocks, or outwardly popular guys back in high school. They might have been labeled "geeky" (no offense guys), but they grew up to be quite handsome and successful men. That's the beauty of awkwardly geeky high school guys...they grow up to be wonderful boyfriends, husbands and fathers. Trust me girls, they do grow into their ears. So don't be so quick to write these types of guys off, you'll be the losers if you do.
The night winded down and most of the group headed off to one of the local bars to continue the fun. Since I can't really handle liquor, I settled for a sprite that Scott had treated me to. I sat and listened to Tom ("Tommy") as his speech became more and more slurred after the countless numbers of beers he drank throughout the night.
It was funny to hear how more dramatic and non-factual his stories got the more he drank. His wife would just look at us and shake her head a little to let us know that the story didn't play out the way he made it seem.
I left with that same feeling of acceptance and belonging that I had come to know during my high school days there at West Hazleton High School. I may be a dork for holding onto those days, but I don't care. I will cherish those special memories and the people in them until I end up with dementia or die.
So, to all my West Hazleton High School buddies...freaks, geeks, jocks, heads, preps, etc: Please don't forget about me.
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