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Posts from — May 2007

If Ever We Meet Again

Reunited, and it feels so good…. Or does it?

Reunion season is upon us. And being invited to reunions can only mean one thing: I must be getting old.

Who knew? Certainly not me.

But in the last few months I’ve been invited to two camp reunions, one family reunion, and there’s been talk of a reunion from an organized trip I went on 20 years ago. Mind you, I was the one doing the talking, so maybe it doesn’t count. Reunion fever is catchy – makes you start thinking about all the other reunions you could – or would – go to. Public school? Perhaps. Junior high? For sure. High school? Hmmmm… which one? University? Definitely…maybe. Grad school? No chance, Lance. So many reunions, so little time…

The family reunion was an interesting one. Oohing and aahing over the latest family members (babies, spouses, pets); trying to create new family memories by recreating memories of yesteryear (egg toss, races, games); reminiscing about people who couldn’t be there (travel, divorce, death); and of course a lot of food. A lot. It was a bittersweet day, a day of reconnection and marvelling that these people who live such different lives from yours are you relatives, your family. And you could really feel it. Everyone left with shiny happy smiles and wondered if and if and when we’d do it again.

Well, apparently, we’re doing it on an annual basis now. Which, to me, kind of rubs off some of the magic of, say, an every-five-year shin dig. Or ten. Then it becomes more like a holiday or something – everyone gathering every year, shooting the same old shit. But we’ll see what happens. More often than not everyone gets carried away with the reunion fever, but as they settle back into their own lives, it tends to subside. I hope.

The camp reunions were an entirely different kettle of fishsticks.

I actually only made it to one of them. Previous engagements aside, I felt like too much of an imposter to go to the first one. I’d only gone to this camp for a single summer. So it just didn’t feel like my camp, y’know? And that single summer happened to be one of the worst of my life, so going to the reunion was pretty much off the cards from the start. But a handful of friends were the organizers, and it did sound like fun, so I was tempted. Just not tempted enough. Revisit the time I consider the peak of The Dark Year? Erm, no thanks.

The other one, however, was for my camp. So I had to go. Or did I? Most people go to reunions to see old friends. I, however, was still friends with most of them. Or they go to see old flames. Hello?! Have you seen the haircuts we sported in the early 80’s? Combined with being 14, it simply wasn’t a pretty time. So not a lot of luck there. But I knew I’d regret not going, so I twisted some friends’ arms, and off we went.

It was packed. For the most part I hung out with the posse I went with. It was a 50 year reunion, so we didn’t feel ancient at all. Au contraire. And there were lots of friends and faces we hadn’t seen since forever. Of course there were some awkward moments too. You know, the kind where you try to subtly read a person’s nametag as they hug you and gush and you haven’t a clue? And, even worse, the kind where you bump into someone you thought you’d been really tight with and they can’t remember your name. Apparently that’s quite devastating…

I’ve recapped since the big night and everyone had a wonderful time. Especially the folks who were a couple years older than my gang. I think our year must’ve been an odd one. Or a nomadic one. Or the kind filled with those too-cool-for-school to show up. ‘Cuz we were somewhat under-represented, in person and in pictures. Where the hell were these people? More importantly, who the hell were they?

Guess we’ll have to wait for the next reunion to find out.

1 comments:

Anonymous said…

My twisted arm is fine and I’m glad I went. I have many theories as to why our age group was under- represented. There’s a larger paper in the workings there with major social implications about coming of age in the decade of greed. Too heavy for your blog?

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May 15, 2007   No Comments

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Blabber Chat

Boy yoy yoing…it has been ages. Sorry children. Been a wee bit preoccupied. Where to begin?Let’s start with some idle….I mean Idol talk.

The telethon – a good cause, natch, but oh so earny earnesto, no? Celebs lipsynching to the Bee Gees? Why, oh why? (foreshadowing, perhaps?) All funny men were funny, but Teri Snatcher? When will America speak and send her back to the c-list? Still, all the power to them, getting spoosrs and regular joes to pay up…and then taking all the credit Idol Gives Back? Erm, no, Idol watchers give back. Idol gave nothing. Only Ellen did. Those Idol folks really are media geniuses.

Loved Blake’s Jon Bon perf. L-o-v-e-d it. With his new ‘do he looks like Bono. Intense stare, pas de lips… Don’t get me wrong, sportsfans, he’s no Bono. But I think he’s awesome and hope he wins the whole damn thing. Read it closely – don’t think he will win, but am living in hope. Last week we said adios to Nasal Beckham Timberlake and, dare I say it, Cancer Boy Phil. (Reference should be obvo, but if it isn’t, don’t fret. It’s not cuz he has cancer, just looks like it.) So now it’s The Ladies v. Blake. And guess what next week is? DISCO. With the king of the tight white pantaloons, Mr Guilty himself, Baz Gibb…..Moment for the Brothers no longer with us. And Andy….And back to the show: Woo hoo! Can’t wait for it!

On other MOAM news, we’re no longer all about the shits at our house. Not as much as before, anyway… #1 son has made it to the toilet. That’s the good news. The bad news? We’ve had, erm, toilet traffic jams. We’re talking grid lock. Stand stills. So now we really need to move house. Who wants to share with a 3 year old who can’t wipe his own ass? Pas moi.

Gee, what a great lead in….

We are moving house! Yes, the real estate gods have been kind to us. We found our dream-for-now home – and only had two other bidders to contend with. Talk about tense. In the end, an acknowledgement of The Princess Bride won us the house…Oh, Wesley… More space, more rooms, more toilets. More house. Now we have to fluff our own.

Tell me, movers, does everyone fluff? Or just purge? Do you stay in you house or hit the road? Once the crap’s out, how do you let it back in? Or do you just start accumulating all over again? Inquiry minds wanna know. And I need to know. I won’t be a moving maven until later this summer, so let’s discuss.

Since I plan on turning from gossip rags to decor mags I’ll share some cheesy-in-a-good-way sites: www.dlisted.com, idontlikeyouinthatway.com, and of course Perez, Lainey and TMZ. Such good wastes of time and will save you big bucks on mags. Unless you double dip paper and web.

Wondering where I’m going with all this? Me too.

Erm….nowhere. Fast.

But the tribe has spoken and I had to give ’em something, so a little ramble should satisfy. For now. When the head’s elsewhere, the typing fingers follow. I’ll be back – on better form for-sure-cross-my-heart – next week. Or the week after. Stay tuned….

May 4, 2007   No Comments

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