Thanks to Facebook I was invited to the 30 year reunion for
the class I went to school with, but didn’t graduate with. Midway through 11th grade my
family moved. That didn’t matter to
those who planned the reunion. It was
about the shared experience of growing up here.
There were over 400 who graduated from FHS in 1982. I wasn’t involved in any activities, wasn’t
athletic, or a standout by any definition of the word. I doubted many people would even remember
me. In addition to that, the big hairstyle
of that era has been replaced by a crewcut and mostly relocated to my face in
the form of a beard.
That tiny insecure voice inside told me to be ready for someone
to tap me on the shoulder and say, “You didn’t actually graduate with us, so
you have to leave.”
It also told me to be ready in case someone copped an
attitude with me, like a high school student would. Health issues (some potentially fatal), life
in some big cities, vision loss, life in a couple of large cities with vision
loss have all created a much less easily intimidated version of me than the one
people might remember in high school. I’ve
had to learn to stand up for myself over the years.
Then a different tiny voice told me that time and maturity
hasn’t ignored all those people. It told
me to just expect a good time. Never
mind the high odds of me being the only legally blind one there. Or the only one with a couple of transplanted
organs. I might not be the most enviable
one there, but I was pretty sure I had the most atypical life.
Three weeks before the reunion, I had my gall bladder
removed along with a hernia repair. I
was down 15 pounds, which would have been a blessing for some, but not in my
case. In just a few weeks I went from
being in the best shape of my life to the same scrawny body I had in high
school. It was a chore to find clothes
that didn’t hang off me. Everybody wants
to look at these things, whether it’s been 10 years or 70.
Yes, I was a little self-conscious beforehand about being the only visually-impaired one there. But, that's almost always the case and I'm finally coming to terms with it. Besides, most of the others have to use reading glasses these days. I guess that makes me a trendsetter.
I had a good time.
People walked up and spoke to me, so it didn’t matter that I couldn’t
see across the room. I said, “You
actually remember me?” about a dozen times.
The usual response was, “Of course I do.”
When I said that to Ziva, followed by, “I was such a nobody,”
she looked me in the eye and said, “Everybody is somebody.” This from one of the cool, tall, pretty chicks
back in high school who I didn’t really know back then. I had approached her wanting to connect with
a fellow writer.
The next thing I knew, I was having a great time with her,
Jinger, and Lisa (more cool, pretty girls who were at the reunion) on Dickson
Street. I expected to see old friends
that night, but never expected to make new ones of people I hadn’t known back
then.
Since then, I’ve done a little revising on the history book
in my head. I already knew that sometime
since 1982, I had become somebody. It
turns out you don’t have to be a standout to be somebody and more people notice
you than you think.
Now I stand out without really trying and not for the
reasons I would have chosen. Now I’m somebody
because of that. But it turns out I was
somebody all along.
