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July 25, 2006
The Same, Only Completely Different
Our stint as refugees - albeit very pampered, well-fed, electricity-possessing, wussypants-wearing refugees - is over. Clara Jane, the stupid dogs, and I are finally home, safe and sound.
Something in my brain exploded today when I looked at my blog stats and noticed someone from the St. Louis offices of Ameren UE - the utility company that still hasn't restored power to the people across the street from me a week after it went out - was reading my blog. Dude! Don't you have something better to do? Seriously!
For that, I have a feeling I'll be without electricity again in the near future.
I was in my hometown for six days. This is the longest chunk of time I've spent there since winter break of my freshman year of college nearly fifteen years ago. Most of my visits there are for big family shindigs, which doesn't leave much time for exploring. This week, I explored, and boy, was it surreal.
The surreality actually began before our exodus last week. I spent Wendesday afternoon - before all hell broke lose - on the phone with Kara Joy. The last time I talked to KJ? About ten minutes after we graduated from high school, when she told me that she'd told off some twit who had the audacity to belittle my commencement address.
I always liked KJ.
We were good friends in late elementary school, but grew apart for reasons I can't remember, most likely involing puberty hormones, which fuck up everything. We were always on good terms, though. When she tracked me down on MySpace earlier this year, I was actually glad to hear from her. That surprised me, as I always thought my reaction to being tracked down on the internet by people from high school would be abject terror and fleeing not unlike what I did last Thursday night. In the past year I've had several people from my youth find me, and it's always made me happy. But then again, it's always been the cool people who've found me.
So, we've emailed here and there, but something happened that required telephone intervention: the horrifying, nausea-inducing arrival of invitations to our 15-year-high school reunion.
You know what feels really, really good? Hearing a voice that hasn't changed in 15 years, and hearing that voice squeal, "Oh my God! You sound exactly the same as you did then! That giggle! You still have that giggle!"
Yes, I still giggle the same way I did when I was 18, which is the same way I giggled when I was 11. Who knew that having such information verfified would make my day?
KJ and I have found ourselves in rather similar positions in life. We share a similar political bend which would probably get us run out of our hometown. Her son's 14 months younger than Clara Jane. We've got similar interests in art, music, literature (which reminds me, her sweetie is co-owner of Prosperos Books on beautiful 39th Street in Kansas City - visit them!), politics, society, and our mutual lack of desire of attending this reunion ... And I couldn't help but wonder, were we like this when we were teenagers?
We had a lot in common back in fifth grade, but that was stuff like unicorns and "America's Top 40 with Casey Kasem". I also recall a thoroughly intriguing book about garden gnomes at her house. Oh! And we sobbed through Terms of Endearment together. And there was that time when I accidentally shoved her leg through a window, but we won't talk about that.
Kara Joy was the first person I met with a monkey fixation.
After elementary school, it seemed like the only thing we had in common was the first letter of our last names, insuring seven years of lockers located near one another. Imagine my surprise during last week's conversation when she said that she was miserable in high school.
I never, ever would have thought we had that in common. She didn't seem miserable. Did I seem miserable? I always felt like I was wearing my misery on my sleeve. You know, like Morrissey.
Wouldn't it be a great world if 16-year-olds who were really good friends four years earlier could just say, "Hey, I'm miserable. Are you miserable, too? Wanna be miserable together and perhaps wind up less miserable?" while digging through their lockers for their misery-inducing algebra books? It would defeat the purpose of adolescence, which is all about learning to manage misery, but still.
Wednesday's conversation left me feeling down-right giddy. It's conversations like that which bring some peace to the weird upheaval of adolescence. Not only did we get over that misery, but we turned into really smart, interesting, fun, funny people. We're just the same as we were in 1983, only completely different.
So, going into my evacuation to the hometown, I was carrying the glow of a great conversation with someone from my past who now feels a lot more like someone from my present. And then I find myself with a little time to explore my hometown a bit. Know what? It's the same as it was when I left in 1991, only completely different.
The radio station I listened to while driving around has the slogan "We play everything!". It would be more accurate if that slogan was "We play everything, as long as it was released during the time you lived in this town, Robin!" Getting into the car, turning the key, and being bombarded with Def Leppard's "Photograph"? Shit. It's 1983 all over again. And look! That guy over there has the same hairdo he had in 1983!
I drove by all my old schools, and the houses where my friends lived. Houses where I slept over, played, hung out. Not a single one of those houses is inhabited by the parents of my old friends. Everyone has moved on. I only lived in my parents' current house for two years. If my friends were to drive past the house where they came to my sleepovers, they wouldn't see any trace of my family, either. The houses are all pretty much the same, only completely different.
I thought about getting in touch with some of my old friends while I was in town, but quickly remembered that there are none. Well, there's one. We email a few times a year, mostly swapping pictures of our kids. Even though we used to talk about everything, often while drinking and cussing, I just couldn't call him while I was in town. I don't think he's like that anymore and really, I'm not as much like that. I'm sure he's the same as always, only completely different.
And now I'm home. It's exactly the same as it was when I left, only much cleaner (because B. rocks), and with a huge pile of branches and leaves at our curb. I'm watching The New York Dolls on "The Henry Rollins Show", only it's really just two guys from the original Dolls, because all the others are dead. Same as always, only completely different.
But isn't everything?
Posted by Robin at July 25, 2006 11:35 PM
Comments
I just tried calling Ameren since Caleb told me his mom was without power due to non-payment, not the storm.
I get confidentiality and whatnot, but if she can't pay electric he needs to come to us.
Not much to do with your post, just frustration in general.
Sigh.
Posted by: Jack's Raging Mommy at July 26, 2006 10:25 PM
ya know - i can't, for the life of me, figure out now what happened after elementary school either... i mean, i don't ever remember thinking, "oh. my. god. we are like, SO in a fight!"
ah, the memories...this blog made me smile - the BIGGEST!
but know this. you are officially stuck with me now, for life! bwaaahaaahaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!
i love you, girl!
xoxoxoxo
oh, yeah - welcome home. and let's do it again soon!
Posted by: kara joy at July 26, 2006 10:35 PM
Funny, I just had an email exchange with an old friend about our upcoming 15th reunion. I said something like, "I don't want to be overdressed, but I have some unreasonable desire to impress people that I didn't care enough about to keeep in touch with for 15 years." Her reply was, "Well, I have run into a lot of these people in the last 15 years and, trust me, you don't have anything to worry about." It is the fear of the unknown that is killing me.
Posted by: Melissa at July 26, 2006 11:01 PM
I've skipped all the reunions so far... and plan on skipping more. (Had my fill attending Bob's 10th and finding out how many other girls/women in my class 'married into' his. Not to mention my Huge Crush in his class had moved to Calif., gotten a stressful job, and looked like hell.)
I digress.
With you on the radio station -- KSHE has the same damn playlist they did when I first left this place.
Glad you're all back!
Posted by: Mary at July 27, 2006 08:45 AM
With a few exceptions, I hate seeing folks I went to school with. Not that there's much chance of running into them now...
Glad you're back home.
Posted by: Dixie at July 27, 2006 03:37 PM
Dang...next year will be my 20 year reunion. Geesh. Where did the time go?
This post was really cool, Robin.
Posted by: Marybeth at July 27, 2006 04:23 PM
Everyone from my class just moved to Nashville to avoid having to plan our 15 year reunion. (Seriously. It's bizzare. There's like 5 of us here...)
We didn't have a reunion last year. We had a 5 and a 10... and then it was like... We're OVER THIS. ;)
Posted by: Julie at July 27, 2006 04:55 PM
It's my 20th next year, too. I've not heard of any plans, yet, and don't know if I'd want to go, since I had such a great time at my dh's 20th. It's kind of freeing to just be yourself knowing that people with whom you are speaking do not know any of those embarrassing HS moments. Besides, it was fun to play with them..."What?! You don't remember me?!"
Posted by: Jane at July 27, 2006 05:49 PM
glad you're home, sis. i missed ya.
and i liked my reunions even when mike caught me outside sharing a cigarette and a slow gin fizz with the star football player. mike was cool, though, he just went and got us another drink and let us talk.
i missed my 25 year reunion a few weeks ago. i did, however, get the full faces of meth report.
Posted by: pkb at July 27, 2006 06:59 PM
In regards to the first two paragraphs...I knew you wouldn't be able to resist :)
Posted by: Blossom's Dad's Ho at July 27, 2006 09:55 PM
Kara Joy, I said it before but it bears repeating: I'm thrilled to be stuck with you!
Melissa, you said it. I made a rule a long time ago that I wouldn't go to a reunion until I had at least one book published. Why? Because I'm just that petty. I didn't even like most of those people, so why does it matter that I want something to lord over them?
When we went to B.'s 10-year reunion eight years ago, he was working for Boeing. He took great delight in telling people, "I make rockets and bombs."
Mary, for some reason I thought you and Bob were in the same class.
Ho, you know me all too well. Can't keep my big mouth shut. But hey - they haven't kicked me off the grid. Again. Yet.
Posted by: Robin at July 27, 2006 10:34 PM
Robin, I need help! On the radio the other day was a song that got stuck in my head..it turns out it is a U2 song. I need a name and/or album so I can track it down. Um, as I was sitting here writing that out to you, the lyric left me. Please don't laugh at me. I was listening to some Syd Barrett and now the lyric that has been in my head for days left. I knew you were the only person who would know and I should of asked you sooner, but felt silly bothering you during your weather drama. I hope everything has calmed down for you guys and power has been restored and it is somewhat cooler for you. Here in Oregon, we just went through a heat wave, but thankfully it is cooler now.
So. yeah, I'll get back to you with the U2 question. Take it easy, Bren
Posted by: brenda at July 28, 2006 11:15 AM
Ok, it just came back to me. The song lyric is..."ohhhh oh the sweetest thing." That's it. Going over and over and over in my head. HELP! Please! Bren
Posted by: brenda at July 28, 2006 11:23 AM
