Well, it happened. I went to my 15-year High School Reunion last weekend. I realized at some point – and took great pleasure in pointing it out to thunderstruck former classmates – that we were celebrating a milestone that was longer than the entire time we spent in school to begin with.

And, to be perfectly honest, I think we looked pretty good!! I don’t know that I expected a bunch of broken-down, world-weary middle-agers exactly, but you never know how harshly the world will treat you once you start making your own way. To say nothing of having kids! They’ll put the fear of God in you. They certainly have in me, and I don’t even have any!! Many came with their offspring, and a handsome lot they were. I can’t wait for the pictures to be posted on the reunion web site.

While my sister’s class has yet to celebrate a single reunion (though they’re planning one for next year), this makes the third for the ConVal class of ‘92. They’ve each had a very different feel to them (picture goes wavy, harp strumming in the background…):

The 5-year: I went with Heather and Amy, and I felt pretty cool. I’d just finished school and was planning to move to Boston in the fall. Amy and Heather had come from NYC, so we were just three cosmopolitan badasses (okay, two badasses and a country bumpkin aspiring to badassness ) ready to hold our own against the flood of not-always happy memories from our recent childhoods. For my part, I don’t think I’d spoken to more than five people from our class since graduation, and since I’d had a girlfriend up until then, it may have been the same five as during high school. (After all, when you have a significant other, what do you need friends for? Ugh.) I had visions of old grudges resurfacing, old cliques reforming to intimidate the same unfortunate social outsiders, awkwardly avoiding old acquaintances, and generally a final smack to the head before we went our separate ways, never to be seen again.

But, to my wonderful surprise, I got hearty greetings from just about everyone! Folks with whom I’d never had more than passing words in the hall were glad to see me, and I them. My theory at the time, borne mostly out of insecurity, was that college had given a lot of former big fish the big pond treatment, and we all longed for the comfort of familiar faces and relationships, even if they hadn’t been perfect. Whatever the reason, it was really nice to see everyone again.

The 10-year: Heather called to make sure that I had no illusions about skipping out, and we arranged to meet at Harlow’s for a bracer (or three) before the semi-formal dinner event. This one felt like it was going to be a big deal, there being a real committee convened to find our scattered number, which further cemented the now-we’re-adults-and-we’re-past-the-clique-thing sentiment, as they comprised a broad strata of backgrounds and current situations. Unfortunately, it may have been this very we’re-past-the-past idea that got me more wound-up than the last time. We were supposed to be established by now, with jobs and spouses and homes and, in a few cases, children; and all this was going to be on display…or not.

I felt pretty good about my situation, actually: married to my best girl Susan, working for Harvard, just became caretakers of a cool old house, arrived in a new CR-V, and we were showing up with with Heather and her fantastic guy (now husband) Jeff. So why did I need to “take the edge off” with a couple of beers beforehand? I talked with a bunch of people, met spouses, and caught up a little, but I felt hurried, tense, and unfocused. I was too slow in processing the presence of, and changes in, the first person, before I was suddenly trying to place the next. Poor Susan had a terrible cold that night (being the weekend of Thanksgiving, and the punishing New England weather it entailed), and so I took her home just after dinner was finished.

The 15-year: I’d almost forgotten that it was time for another one when Heather brought it up (I say “almost” because due to a… ahem… “non-traditional” college career, I finished in 5 years and am now receiving notices for college and high school reunions at the same time). It was to be a b.y.o.meat BBQ at McDowell Dam on a Sunday afternoon. At this point, we’d been in Maine for just over a year and a half, having left our cushy life in Boston for a family house, and I’d been struggling with the changes in lifestyle, surroundings, jobs (I was on my second since the move), and, well, everything. However, there were two events in quick succession that got me raring to see the old gang.

My Dad called to let me know that a friend from elementary school, Mark, and his wife Missy, ConVal ‘94, lived close by, and I immediately called him at Susan’s urging. We invited them and their kids over to a bonfire at our house. It totally threw me. I last remembered him from sometime in early high school, when we used to take his old Subaru to the local mountain for night skiing after classes. Our parents had been friends and we, along with Joy and his Sister Sunny, all but grew up together. We lost touch (did I mention that I had a girlfriend ?), and suddenly, so many years later, we’re living 5 miles apart, 160 miles from where we grew up. They are restoring a beautiful old farm house, just like his parents used to, and he talks about the projects that he and his 6-year-old son (who looks so much like he did at that age) have been tackling. I suddenly saw so much of our parents in us, and it was a very proud and humbling feeling.

Then the weekend before reunion, Joy got married. We spent three breakneck days in Boston, and the reception was filled with family and family friends that have known me from birth, and about whom Susan has heard endless stories. Everywhere I turned, a new old face was beaming at me, the grown-up little boy that they all knew I’d be someday, so much like my dad. Having moved to Susan’s home town, we were surrounded by her extended family, and I was usually the one waiting to have names put to faces and trying to remember all the things she’d told me about each person since we started dating. Now it was her turn to make the associations and close the gaps, while I was flooded with both the old feelings of childhood and the feeling that I was saying, with each successive greeting, “Hi, I’m adult Joel!” Gosh, do all Gen-X-ers wait until their mid-thirties to accept adulthood, or is it just me?

After seeing Mark again, and Joy’s reception, I couldn’t wait to see my class! And the event itself was wonderful. This was the reunion that I’d always hoped for. Natural, relaxed, and happy for each other’s company. Heather and I were, once again, two peas in a pod, being the only two grownups with the reunion shirts on (me in a ringer and her in the fetching 3/4-sleeve). When it wasn’t raining sideways (as it did 5 times that afternoon, by my count), everyone looked how I remembered them. Everyone, that is, except me! I actually got to surprise Jamie and Jen, who didn’t recognize me at first. When I laughed at Jen’s shocked realization, she said “Oh, you laugh just like your dad!” Jen and I have known each other since before we began school, and after all this time she remembers how my dad laughs. How great is that?

There were too many fantastic moments to recount here, and I’ve already gone on too long. I just wanted to relate to those I saw that day, if they’re reading this, how thrilled I was to see them again, and how grateful I am to count them as friends. For those who couldn’t make it, we’ll see you at the 20th!