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KANSAS CITY, Mo. — I didn’t want to go to my high school reunion. But people kept telling me it might be fun. They said I could regret not going.
And for a minute, I believed them. Then, as the invitations started to roll out for the big 10-year get-together in Virginia, I realized that, apart from a small clique of people, no one seemed excited about reuniting. It was hard to imagine a party amid all the apathy.
So few people took interest that the organizers opened the reunion to all classes, not just `97.
Still, ticket sales remained low. So the cocktail party was canceled. That left a picnic and a gathering at a seedy bar.
Then the argument erupted. As I heard it, two people on the planning committee had a battle of words that led to a boycott of the event by the entire baseball team, some cheerleaders and a few other athletes. So much for school spirit.
Everyone else I talked to kept saying the same thing: “Why go to a reunion? I see them on MySpace and Facebook.”
Plus, many of my classmates still lived in Norfolk and Virginia Beach, close to our high school, so they ran into one another often, at the mall, at bars, on the beach, grocery shopping.
So I made a reunion of my own. I would meet up with three of my closest high school girlfriends. One lives in Chicago; two are still in Norfolk. We decided this would be a weekend just for us. We’d hit the beach, the boutiques and bars. It turned out to be nice face time with the girls I grew up with. They were there for me the first time I got my heart broken and when I got my first job, and they stood by me through all my many changes in high school and college.
When I got back to Kansas City, I wondered whether anyone else’s reunion was as small-scale as my own. I called people from different high schools and states, and I found out that for a lot of people, as sad as it may be, the reunion is no longer a big celebration the way it might have been for previous generations.
We’re not in a hurry to stand around with a bunch of old schoolmates sharing success stories, sappy smiles and silly love stories. That’s what the Internet is for, after all.
The Web makes it easier to stay in touch and not feel left out of the loop, says Phil Shafer, 28. As a 1997 graduate of the Paseo Academy, the Kansas City artist isn’t into the whole reunion thing.
“I keep in touch with plenty of people in high school, the ones I want to stay close to,” Phil says. “I’m not really into the idea of a reunion. I have a high school reunion every time I go to Sun Fresh (market).”