Dan Takes in his 45th Reunion at Fair Lawn Senior High School (Part 1 of 3)

                                   

I never thought I’d go to my 45^th high school.  Not a chance in the world.  Let me give you a little background to better understand my decision.

  

I was a Rah-Rah wannabe at Fair Lawn High School in New Jersey in the Sixties.  Let me explain.  I was not in the In Crowd as a teenager.  At the time, I thought I just don’t have what it takes to be that cool.  I didn’t have the look, the confidence, the athletic prowess, and the whatever-something-they-had that I didn’t.  At FLHS, we had two main identifiable groups.  There were the Boppers – those who wore black leather jackets, smoked!, and challenged authority – and the Rah-Rahs – those who played sports or were cheerleaders, wore letter sweaters, were going to college, and dated all the good looking guys or gals.  There were other groups - the Band and Chorus kids.  The Drama kids.  The Artistes.  No doubt we had our share of Nerds.  And then there was the large group of us who just went through the school day not being noticed, kept our noses clean for the most part, and hardly caused a ripple during the school day.  A subset of that group was the Rah-Rah wannabes.  And ta-da. That would be me. 

To put the school life in some sort of context, Fair Lawn High School had 2000 students in three grades when I was a student from 1963 to 1966.  Our class was baptized as sophomores in high school by the death of John Kennedy just prior to Thanksgiving one early afternoon in November.   High school was fine, just not amazing.  Upon graduation, I couldn’t wait to leave New Jersey, which I did, first for Ohio, then Arizona, and later California.  I had a tight core group of friends who played sports on the side, hung out, walked a mile to school, and provided some much appreciated identity.  With them, I felt like I belonged.  Even today, I appreciate that I was part of that group.  To have some sort of distinction, we would do random things.  One was chanting “Let’s go Hedda” at basketball games when our friend Hedda wasn’t even on the team. 

Given that background and little connection with many in my high school class, I never thought I would go to a Reunion.  I feel I did a lot better after high school than during.  I’m guessing that many of my classmates felt that way.  I didn’t know it at the time, but not peaking in my teenage years was probably a good thing.  Still, I wouldn’t have minded a higher arc to my high school years.

Then my Dad died this past May at 94.   Dad was a beloved principal at Fair Lawn High School while I was a student there.  At the time of his death, classmates reached out to me and I was touched and surprised by their attention and compassion.  I mean I hadn’t seen many of my classmates in 45 years.  I was the principal’s son.  I was self-conscious about that but not in a debilitating way.  I just assumed I had my place and that was to keep quiet and be unobtrusive.

Hearing from classmates got me thinking about making connections at the Reunion with some of my classmates.  I had never made much of an effort to stay in touch.  I didn’t even consider going to the 25^th Reunion.  But now, as I was at the cusp of retirement, I thought I might make some connections and that would be a good thing for the retiring type.    

Understandably my wife Hannah was not up for the event.  I totally got that.   You might wonder about old flames showing up?  Please, I never had a high school girlfriend and was on the outer orbit (maybe Mars) in my high school’s solar system.  Fact is, I flatter myself thinking I was that close to the Sun.  I was meek and inoffensive, in part because that is my nature and in part because my father was principal. 

I was guessing that only the high school superstars or “successful” grads would come to a reunion.  Was I “successful” enough?  I thought I was in the ballpark.  Would those I knew in the band (I played the clarinet forgettably), the tennis team, or my classes be there?  I didn’t think any of the old gang would be there, but they might…

Shocking the odds makers, in May I decided to go for it.  I sent in the $45 deposit.  By August I hadn’t changed my mind so I paid the rest of the $90, made arrangements to stay at my Mom’s condo fifteen miles away, and was just going to muster the courage it took to go to my 45^th Reunion in October.