20

Last weekend was my 20th high school reunion.  I didn’t go for a number of reasons:

  1. I don’t want to drive down for a weekend.
  2. I didn’t want to pay the $100 for tickets.
  3. None of my close friends from high school were going.
  4. I had no interest.

It’s not like I hated high school or anything. I never felt like I belonged or fit in. Okay, to be fair I suppose no one felt like they belonged or fit in. However, there were not too many Asians in my particular school and in fact my high school had a…particular nickname that was often used.  Naturally, it does not bear repeating.

When we arrived to that state in 1980, there weren’t too many people of color…let alone people of color who were professionals.  My parents worked their butts off to get to where they are today.

My father lost both his parents by the time he was fifteen (His mom died when he was two of the flu and his father died when he was fifteen of allergies?  I’m not sure.  The details are fuzzy.)  My great-great grandmother raised my dad; she raised him and his cousins; again, the details are fuzzy and he is strangely reticent about it.  (My husband, shocked, he thinks he’s reticent about everything…it’s not that, my father just doesn’t take in the language that my husband understands. Another story, another time.)  He put himself through college and became an electrical engineer before joining the Navy and ending up in the States.

My mom was one of five, I think.  (Again, details are fuzzy because she won’t ever talk to me about it.)  He father was a carpenter and her mother a teacher.  She helped raise her siblings and then go on to medical school.

(Huh, look at that.  Another tangent.  How novel.)

Anyway, when we got to the place where I grew up, my parents were no strangers to working hard.  So, worked hard they did.  Still though, I was only one in a sea of many.  In order to protect myself, I laid low and made friends (at least acquaintances) with as many people as I could.  No, I wasn’t Greg, Earl, or Rachel.  I was happy enough but was careful in high school and besides I was terribly uncomfortable in my skin.

Anyway, that was a long way to go to say that I didn’t go to my 20th high school reunion.  I looked through the pictures that people posted on Facebook and was happy for those who decided to go.  But, it wasn’t my scene.  I was happy dining with my husband and my friend who needs to get out more and watching a movie.  I didn’t need to get dressed up and make small talk with people I haven’t really connected with…well, maybe ever.

Yes, I understand that we all change and 20 years *is* a long time.  But…I have no need to relive old days.  It’s nice to reminisce but I don’t particularly want to, you know?  I’m sure everyone is nice now and have matured considerably since high school – myself included – but, no.  I’m fine where I am and yes, I know that all those criticisms (there’s always criticisms) are all in my head.  I’m sure I would’ve had a fine time if we went, but I’m sure it would’ve exhausted me.

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