Musings on a Reunion

 I attended a very large high school (it might have been the largest in the state) outside of Philadelphia.  I had not gone through the public school system, but had attended a Catholic parochial elementary school, and my first year of high school (ninth grade) at a private girls' school.  

So when I transferred to Upper Darby High School as a tenth grader I was very much the odd man out...  Friendships had been formed in elementary school, enjoyed and cemented in junior high.  I did make friends:  There were lots of chums I met in classes and homeroom.  I had lunch with Dee and Michele everyday, took the trolley with Richie to early morning choral rehearsals, sang in the Concert Choir with Roger and Richard M, attended plays in Philadelphia...

My husband and I attended my 15th reunion.  I saw folks that I recognized, but no one with whom I had been close attended.  In fact, the folks I had been closest to had seemingly fallen off the face of the Earth.  After we married 53 years ago, we moved to my husband's 'stomping grounds' outside of Baltimore, Maryland.  I always envied that at any moment he could run into someone he went to school with; someone from his past.  I missed that.

Fast forward a decade or three.  I had tried contacting a few classmates.  Dee made it clear she didn't want to be found; R never answered notes and invitations I had sent to him and his wife; Roger had died out in San Francisco (from what and when I never did learn).  R2 did contact me.  Now retired from a distinguished career in the military he lives not far from us in Virginia.  He visited me at the school where I was teaching, we had a great lunch, and a sweet time catching up with one another, and then I never heard from him again.  Lest I be misunderstood, these were not romantic interests, but a connection to a time and place I missed.

Our reunion is scheduled for October.  Two of these folks will be there.  I'd go but it would be for all the wrong reasons:  primarily, I'd want to know why they ghosted me, and while I'm curious, I realize it's not that important, that I'm not important, at least to them.

They Weren't the Best of Times

In 1966 I was a sophomore entering public school for the first time.  My world had always been one of uniforms and standing before we spoke to our teachers - mostly nuns - and quiet submission at the fear of a tarnished 'permanent record'.

The vast majority of the Class of 1969 of Upper Darby High School, my alma mater and the inspiration for Tina Fey's (she, too, is an alum) Mean Girls, had been together since elementary school; friendships had been long formed and alliances recognized.  Enter an interloper -- one who wanted to belong...badly.

So in addition to ubiquitous cliques, one of the traditions at UDHS were  'sororities'.  (These were held outside of school and allegedly non-sanctioned by the school board). Candidates attended teas, were looked over by the sisters of these long existing clubs, and eventually chosen or denied entrance in the sorority of her choice. Most girls chose three, hopeful they'd get into one. 

I chose one:  TOT, attended the tea, spoke to the members, and tried not to appear too desperate.  Evidently, I did not make an impression, or if I did, it was not the impression I had hoped.  And then spent the next three years suffering the rejection.

Not to be misunderstood, I had a few friends, and was active in choir, chorus and clubs, but spent much of my high school years feeling alone and always on the outside.  I graduated from one of the largest high schools in Pennsylvania with a very clear understanding of how students can become and feel dis-enfranchised.  

59th Street Bridge

Switching high schools from a small, private girls' school to a huge public school was not an easy move for me. I made the change at the end of ninth grade, and began my sophomore year at Upper Darby High School in Pennsylvania. The changes were all big ones: Holy Child had only 300 students while UD had well over a thousand (Three thousand sticks in my mind, but I could be wrong -- it just seemed like that many); I didn't have to wear a uniform; the kids got away with a lot more -- (I couldn't believe people actually talked back to teachers!); but the biggest difficulty was that all these kids had been together in junior high and elementary school, so I felt like a late-comer -- people had already chosen friends and I wasn't one of them. To make matters worse, UD had sororities and fraternities (not sanctioned by the administration) that were selective and as old as the school itself.

But I made my way, and by the time I was a junior, I had made friends and found my niche through choir, the school paper, and Tay Wistalvan, the literary club. One of my friends, Steve Bell, and I used to enjoy singing "The 59th Street Bridge" and would easily break into harmony and just sing our hearts out (okay, so we were weird). Steve used to dive as a hobby and spent one summer diving around the Andrea Doria. He brought back artifacts he had found and lots of photos they'd taken on the dive. He was so proud of his accomplishments. His dad was a minister and he talked a little about how difficult it was to be a PK, but he really handled it with ease.

So when I heard "Slow down, you're goin' too fast" the other day, I remembered Steve. I wonder if that song stirs memories for him, too?