Gonna go back in time

This past weekend, Rob celebrated his 15 year high school reunion up in Morrison. It was a lovely weekend of Rob seeing his old friends, and a chance for me to finally put faces with names I’ve heard for the last 8 years.

The festivities started Saturday night (for us, anyway, as we did not participate in Friday night cocktails or the Sat. morning golf tournament) at Blue Goose Run in Morrison with lovely pre-dinner drinks and mingling. The weekend’s events were put together by two ladies from the class, Irene (who is an avid Bury My Lovely reader- thanks, Irene!) and Tricia, who gave a delightful speech before the buffet dinner. I had a few glasses of wine, but not too much to be entirely too tipsy before the Boones Farm was passed out to each table (an obvious Morrison inside joke I was not in on). After dinner, much fun was had drinking and chatting. Rob and I left around 10, but got stuck outside with some folks smoking and talking, which meant we really didn’t leave until about 11, getting back to the QC around midnight.
Sunday we headed back to Morrison at 9am for a potluck picnic and get-together at one of Rob’s old teachers house just prior. We enjoyed a nice lunch at 1 on a farm of one of Rob’s classmates, and most everyone brought along their kids to this one, when Rob and I noticed we were the only married couple from his class (that was present at the reunion) to not have kids. Yet, anyway.


Irene and I



Rob’s graduating class was close to 85, and only about 50 came to the reunion, along with spouses and such. My graduating class had 510. I have yet to go to a class reunion, but quite frankly, I really don’t care to. Rob’s class is filled with wonderfully thoughtful, interesting, successful people who are all beautifully positive and pleasant to be around. My 15 will be in two years, and it really makes me wonder 1. Will I go? And 2. Why would I? Going to this made me realize my class was filled with a bunch of douche bags.

Who knows what happened in Morrison. Maybe it’s something in the water, how people turned out so nice there. Maybe people there know how to raise their children to become thriving citizens and human beings. My high school, and more importantly, my class? The people I want to associate myself with I still talk to. Ann. Les. Courtney. Kalyca. That’s it. And look at all of them. Masters Degree in Business. Pharmacist. Regional Manager of a Cosmetics Company. Architect who loves her kids so much decided to be a Stay-At-Home Mom. All success stories in my book. Everyone else I could care less about.

With the exception of junior year (the best year of my high school career), I really hated high school. I don’t dwell on it. It sucked, I moved on. Rob often talks fondly of high school and how much fun he had, and I wonder what life would have been like for me if I had gone to a small place like Morrison High School. I always remember this though, that high school is just high school. It’s meant to be survived and nothing more. I’m glad I survived it, because I wouldn’t be where I am today without those 4 years of knowledge, in and out of the halls of MHS. And as Kev would say “That which does not kill us…” So true, my friend. So true.