***Got so excited I lost track of time...literally....forgive the math...as usual.****
I am going to a class reunion in 2014. Twenty-five years after I graduated from high school, I'm going to do it. Before I peck out another word, I need to apologize to my mom and Deb Brogan because I've been harshly critical of their reunion blisses for many years. I'm not sure what it is about graduating from high school together that bonds alumni for life, but I can absolutely tell you why I've finally grown up enough to value my childhood education and the fun we all had together. I will never ever meet another childhood friend's children at a funeral. Never. Out of all the goodness I have received in 2013, above all, I'll see those three little boys sitting on Exeter Avenue last April for the rest of my life, and I will feel that regret. I never got to hear their giant of a dad tell their story. I read about it on Facebook, but I never heard it in person. Done. Never again. Nope. Line 'em up, a whole decade's worth of kids, because I want to hear the stories from you, from them, from everyone. I want to photograph a weekend full of joy. I want to see them play and hear them laugh. I want to show them your mullets. I want to dare you with the secrets your teens would pay to hear, and I will beg you to keep my skeletons tucked away with cobwebs interwoven with perms and acid washed jeans. All of these years I've thought reunions were about the graduates. This is not the case for me. I want to see the pieces of you that you're raising. I want to hear you tell me why you are paying for your raising.
Secondary to the tearful goodbye so many of us said to Jay, is something truly reflective of my so not normal mind. How many of you have a Michael Kors purse or watch? Come on. You know you do. You've been to the outlet. You've hunkered up to the trunk of a car. You've been to the party. You know you've got one or you want one. If anyone from the MHS class of 1989 reads Facebook and carries anything with an MK label on it, you're way more committed to fashion than I will ever be. Every single time I see that MK logo, I think about Michael Killion. If you're fortunate enough to be his Facebook friend, then you know his logo would trump Kors in a heartbeat. Since day one on Facebook, Michael has entertained, educated, and calmed me with his masses. Three things my mom has tried to do for my whole life, but he has managed to do since 2009. He consistently writes about his family, his work, and his gratitude. Maybe his attention to the good in his life has softened my approach to the good in mine. The only thing on me that hasn't been soft for a very long time is my approach regarding what should matter in this life. I see a glimmer of hope. My eyes are squinted, but it's there.
Through the mystery of social media, this idea of a decade or longer reunion has grown. Michael has taken the helm and led us in a...dare I say...march into middle age celebration. The feedback has been great, but the execution will take some planning.
With all due respect to those who made every effort to just get our own class together in years past, I apologize for being so negative, critical, and resistent to your hard work. Ain't nobody got time for such foolishness now. As Jay would say, "It's time to do the 'darn' thing." It just is. There is no need in it being fancy or expensive. We can all fit in Fords Woods or another Middlesboro location. We can gather up for the Fall Festival and tell the offspring how much we loved that weekend when we were kids. Riding the Bullet in the empty lot beside Saylor's Produce will forever be my first step toward being fearless. The sidewalk sales from downtown may have been our most adventurous municipal experiment during the 70s, but putting a full out carnival in the middle of Cumberland Avenue took a giant leap of faith, and my thanks to whomever made that decision.
Now, let's talk about the photo I attached to the top of this blog. That's me. Seventh grade. Praise the Lord we didn't have a yearbook at MMS then. But that was the best I could do on picture day. The wings sprouted out of the front of my head just missed taking flight. A corduroy, fleece vest with a cotton blouse? Absolutely. Can you imagine that kid in today's 7th grade survival camp? I'm just as goofy today as I was then. I'm just as awkward and quirky. Heck fire. I spent the last few years of my life in 7th grade again just on the other side of the desk. That picture still is me. My packaging is bigger, fluffier, and much more confident. My hair has decided that wings aren't necessary. My heart, however, is exactly the same. And...thanks to the kindness of my Facebook friends and the people who've been brave enough to literally hold me up, my heart is happy again.
So, if you're still not sure about the class reunion experience, let me lay down a few ground rules to help you ease your way back home. First of all, stop looking in the mirror if you're seeking out anything other than a face that loves you back. Ain't nobody got time to worry about losing or gaining an ounce in order to enjoy this gathering that will be here in less than a year. I'm gonna get my wobble on and pray that someone will play music that includes "Cool Summer" (or is it "Crueal Summer") by Bananarama. You can wobble with me. It's o.k. Secondly...don't see this as a point of contrast or comparison. We're getting together because of a place that makes us all equal. A town, a school system, and a community need us to all make the effort to come home and boost the economy. Thirdly...quit thinking about hair you had or hair you don't. If it leaves one place, it will show up in another. It's all good. I'm lucky I haven't pulled every hair on my hard head out. Fourthly...don't be renting any kind of fancy car to roll up in because you think anyone will judge you otherwise. If I'm lucky, I'll show up in my mom's big white car that's about the same size as the Buick I drove back when Pioneer and Alpine were about sound systems instead of historical figures and the road behind Balmoral. And lastly...show up as you are, because that's how we'll recognize the person you were. We'll be looking for that grin, that sparkle, and listening for that laugh. Three aspects of our existence that seldom ever change after age five.
I'm not looking forward to going backward. I'm looking forward to the potential the future holds. I'm looking forward to helping create an experience that is affordable and charitable. I hope we can all bring food to share with each other and a few dollars to support Cindy Wyatt's program 52 Weeks of Giving at the Middlesboro Community Library. Most of us spent time in that library digging for help with History Day projects, and Cindy has worked with her team to make the library a truly happy place that offers a program fostering amazing citizens of this planet. I'd much rather give the money to the kids than use it to buy a fancy dress. I'm all fancy dressed out.
As you get those office, secret Santa, and comical gifts of calendars this holiday season, mark off every weekend in October for now. It's time for us all to just go home and be happy. Can you imagine? When Middlesboro decides to book the Fall Festival, perhaps this ambitious effort will come to be.
When I bow my head with my mom on Thanksgiving, I think I'll say grace for the remote possibility that I may have actually grown up enough to realize how fortunate I am to just have the chance to see you all again. 'Til then....
Love,
Danna
