To go or not to go?
Damned social networking-
If hadn’t been for Facebook I would have never given a second thought about attending my 30th High School Reunion this September. The organizing committee would have never found me, not that they did this time either, the idea of making a visit to Stockton wouldn’t have even entered my mind. High School for me was a mostly forgettable experience. The one friend from those days who I’ve sort of kept up with over the years wouldn’t be caught dead at an event like that, and other than him there just isn’t much I that would compel me to spend the time and money to go back to Stockton and reconnect with folks whom I’ve not seen or had contact with in 30 years.
And then along came Facebook.
All of a sudden I’m catching up on line with some of the people I went to high school with, some of whom I can even actually remember. I find myself in free moments thinking about the old neighborhood, wondering of any of my folks old friends are still alive, who’s living the in the house I grew up in, what’s happening back home.
It’s not like I don’t see the old ‘berg on the news from time to time, annually it gets called out on Forbes or Yahoo as the “worst place to live in America” or “Top 10 cities on the Misery list”. Not exactly the kind of press the visitors bureau would want, but then again not unexpected based on my experiences growing up in Stockton. It was pretty troubled back in the 70’s, I can only imagine what the place is like now with 25% foreclosure rates.
Not any of that affects my decision to go or not go to the reunion. Matter of fact, the event isn’t even being held in Stockton, they’ve moved it north to a winery in Lodi. Makes sense.
So, do I go or not go? Mrs S has done a rather magnificent job staying out the whole decision process. “Up to you” and “I’m not going”. She didn’t make me go to her 25th “you don’t know anyone there, why would I make you do something like that?” The message here “and don’t make me go to yours.” Which is kind of shame. It would be nice to show up with my smok’n hot wife under my arm just to prove out to many of the folks in my class that I’m not in fact a “fag”. I’m not sure many of the folks in the class would even remember my name other that that one.
My how things have changed.
For me blooming time came a few years later in college where I got involved in the Greek system, eventually becoming a Frat President. Nothing builds social confidence more than talking to local constables about kegs, under-aged drinking and impromptu wet t-shirt contests on the front lawn and so forth. Or the flat out lie that “there is no way that anyone from this house was standing on the hood of car urinating on a windshield, that’s just crazy talk”, 8 minutes after I’d been cheering on the fellows myself. By the way, the same guys are now enormously successful attorneys and business people, just goes to show.
High School I was a quiet kid, hung out in the choir room most of my free time at school and spend almost all my afternoons and weekends, when I wasn’t working, on in a rowboat fishing on one of Stockton’s famous Fake Lakes. I wasn’t much of a social guy.
But it has been fun to get a glimpse of what some folks have been up to in the days since we were all in school. So, maybe running into these folks now would be sort of fun, funner than it was 30 years ago anyway.
On the other hand-
A trip to Stockton doesn’t come with a price. In certain circles there, yours truly is public enemy #1. Those circles are specifically the ones that share my last name, and their friends, the dreaded Parents.
Mrs S asked the fateful question, “would you drop in on your parents?” Hmmm The short answer is no. The longer answer is; to what end? After a decade or more of no communication I can’t see how anything other than one of more of the parties shuffling off the mortal coil doing anything to resolve this.
Seems I have some things to think about.