Hey VT. I read this for fun. I actually have gone to most, for that was the only time I ever saw a couple with whom I'd become good friends, at least until she accused me of sleeping with her husband ( so fucking high school). I didn't. And it was the only time I got to see a guy who had started at Disney World and ended up its CEO. I'm facing my 50th. When I was back for my 45th, I got publicly shunned for one reason: I was in the best shape of my long bodybuilding life, fit into a size four dress and my arms popped. Nobody wanted to be seen in the same photo, which was kinda like high school again but in reverse. Validation isn't available, VT, because everyone else seems to be seeking it even more than we might be. For my part, I got a lot of stories out of those trips, for I combined them with beach visits (it was in Florida) local horse rides and a ton of other fun that was wrapped around a brief sheep dip in stupidity. As long as I was conversant with my reasons, and understood why I was there, I was fine.

Truth is at some level perhaps we would all love to rewrite, relive or somehow rewire those shit years. In fact, I've noticed that more virulently I say I don't give a shit it is for me a pretty good indicator of how much of a shit I do give. That said, the reunions were instructive. Not painful, nor were they ugly, nor were they much of anything much more than a group of folks in too many cases trying too hard to walk down a memory lane that has long fallen into disrepair.

Oh, wait. I did get validated on one thing: not marrying the kid I had a crush on in high school. He is now morbidly obese and did time for embezzlement. I chose well. Left town and stayed gone. Still, if those years had not been what they were you would not be VT. And I wouldn't be who I am today, for which I am supremely grateful. Something to be said for that.