Dan takes in his 45th Reunion at Fair Lawn Senior High School (Part 2 of 3)

It’s an early Saturday morning in Maine on this late October day of the Reunion.  Driving 300 miles to New Jersey, I realize my current anonymity as a member of the class of ’66 is much my own doing.  I made a life in Maine with Hannah; there have been few intersections with classmates with New Jersey roots.  Over the years I’d connect with Mitch, saw Doc from time to time, but pretty much led the family life in what seemed to be far off distant Maine.  Today I feel like the new kid coming to a new town.  Not quite, or not even close to Kevin Bacon in Footloose, but I do wonder how I’ll fit in.  For this 8P-12A Reunion, I can see myself leaving by 930P if nothing seems to be happening.  I’ll play my hand and see where the chips fall. 

For me, Fair Lawn in the 50s and 60s was a fairly typical Leave it to Beaver existence.  I walked through the park to Radburn School (K-6) each day and came home for lunch where my Mom made us sandwiches; I played baseball and tennis a stone’s throw from our house, swam at the park pool, played ping pong in our basement, and had plenty of neighborhood kids around so we could always field two full teams of whatever sport we were playing. 

For me, high school brought out my covert competitiveness, and not in a good way.  In retrospect, I realized I saw life as a zero sum game (if one wins, the other must lose).  I sadly jumped to the conclusion that I was my grades and my SAT scores.  They were fine but not amazing by any stretch.  I foolishly inferred that those who made the varsity teams or had higher grades, those who took the tough classes like Russian and Physics, were just beyond me.  I was always striving, whether it was to be #1 on the tennis team my senior year or to have a date for the senior prom.   I laid a heavy load of pressure on myself to succeed. It was not pretty.    

Spending the afternoon of the Reunion visiting my Radburn neighborhood of Fair Lawn, I hung out with my friend Penny, who was married to the aforementioned Mitch, my close childhood friend from way back.  I was in Mitch’s sphere and, only as I grew older, realized how fortunate I was to be so connected.  He had a way of traveling with many groups.  He was the common denominator for many of the people I knew in Fair Lawn.  Even today, as I think of who I might see at the Reunion tonight, most have a connection to Mitch.  Sadly, he died of leukemia in 2010.  Interestingly, Mitch swore he would never have come to a reunion, but he is with me tonight as I see our common friends.    

Fortunately, late in the afternoon, I follow-up on the invitation of two classmates, Doc and Shiffy, and hang out at Doc’s place, half watching the football game, the other half leafing through our FLHS yearbook as we relax in an old friend’s sort of way, catching up on the past four decades.  In 45 years, I was stunned how many people I had forgotten or couldn’t place at all as I looked at our yearbook.   If there was a quiz at the Reunion, I was going to flunk.  Always wanting not to be noticed for being different (old high school patterns are tough to extinguish), I opt for the dress-shirt-and-jacket-with-no-tie look, far cooler than I really am.  This casual cool belies my lack of casualness as I still wonder what the night will bring.  

Doc, Shiffy, and Me

Entering the Marriott in Saddle Brook, NJ, I am more relaxed than I thought I would be.  Immediately Zarrow recognizes me, welcomes me as an old friend, and instantly I am really glad to be here.  Zarrow was one of those core friends whom I hadn’t seen since high school.  It’s brief, but I have a harbor for the evening if need be.  He’s upbeat and immediately I hope we reconnect after this Reunion is over.  One for one!

The hallway outside of the reception room is crowded.  The Reunion committee is stationed at tables checking us in and handing us name tags, which are pictures of each of us copied from our high school year book.  Mine says “Moz.” [We’ll have to get together for me to take the time to explain its derivation.]  

As we check in, the upbeat women of the Reunion Committee are so pleased to see me, or so it seems to me.  Though we didn’t travel in the same circles (no part of our high school Venn Diagram intersected), I appreciate the welcome.  It seems the various orbits we were once in have now coincided.  We’re all 63, give or take, had highs and lows aplenty in the past 45 years, and are just looking to enjoy the evening and take the pulse of our classmates.  There is no hierarchy, no stars, no posturing, just people from an era just before all hell broke loose in the late Sixties looking to check in - not compare themselves to each other again.  And lo and behold, these sexagenarians don’t look old at all.  My classmates look good and healthy.  They could play 18 holes of golf or swim 20 lengths of the pool or carry on a lively two-way conversation. 

This had the potential to be a good, I mean a really good night.