denniscoleman.net

When it became time to go to my high school graduation, I didn?t bother.

While my classmates were donning caps and gowns and doing whatever else it is that you do at graduations, I was in Boston, playing music.

I like music, you see?but I hated high school. I hated it so much that two teachers had to carry me to get my senior picture taken, and I refused to take part in anything that I felt that I could avoid. I hated being locked up in that place.

Or did I?

A few days ago, I went to my 40th high school reunion. It was something that I looked forward to as a chance to see some old friends, some of which I hadn?t seen in 15 years; some I hadn?t seen in 40.

Many of the classmates that I still see regularly didn?t bother to go. I can?t say why.

What is it about high school that on one hand, I truly despised, and on the other, I remember with great fondness? Why would I be so eager to re-live an experience that I abhorred?

Maybe it?s the chance to see some of the people that I have known since first grade. Those people know you the best, and are the most dear to you.

Maybe it is the chance to reconnect, or the chance to make a new connection with someone you knew a little bit, a very long time ago.

One thing I know is this. I didn?t ?fit? in high school. I wasn?t academically inspired, except on the rare occasions in English class when the topic was literature. So, I messed around, laughed, and did my best to under-achieve. And I endured the constant reminder that I wasn?t working up to my potential.

Or maybe I was. At that time, I had the potential to create mischief, and play music with my friends, which I did achieve, quite nicely.

Nevertheless, the question remains. Why was I so eager to reconnect with people that seemed, at best, to be fellow inmates of the asylum?

I see it pretty clearly now. I wonder if others see it the same way. Is it the same for me as it was for the cheerleaders, and the jocks, and the shop kids, and the pretty girls, the cool guys, and the smart kids, and the goofs like me?

The way I see it, it?s rather related to what some African cultures refer to as Ubuntu. We are, because of where our parents chose to raise us, a community. Within that community, we have connection and responsibility to each other. And it is a closed community. No one else gets to join?it is ours and ours alone. The history between us gets longer, and perhaps a bit more faded, but it is our history. So, when I look at Jacqui and Joyce, I see them as they are today, and as they were when we were 6 years old. That was more than 50 years ago. I see others as 12, 14, or 16?and I see them today. And it is an undeniable fact that we know each other, and share a connection that no one else has. Moreover, I can?t get kicked out of this group. I am a lifetime member whether anyone likes it or not. As we all are.

So, I went to my high school reunion, and reconnected with the members of my community, and I had a blast. There are some that I hope to reconnect with more closely, and perhaps they do too.

Now that I know why I went, and why I had so much fun, I feel sorry for those who didn?t, or couldn?t, make the trip. It is truly a loss for them, and a loss for all of the rest of us.

After all, we belong together.

Maybe I learned something from high school after all.