High School Reunion

The invitation arrived several weeks before the event. There would be ample time to form an appropriate excuse not to attend. I moved away from Illinois after graduation, which worked well in coming up with excuses. Now that I lived in the area, it would be difficult, but not impossible, to find the perfect reason to ignore this occasion. Forty years! Really? I counted on my fingers. Yep, it was our fortieth class reunion.

Carolyn called to tell me she was coming home from Florida specifically for the reunion. She informed me I would be attending this year. I crossed my fingers behind my back and agreed to go. Another friend, Anne, said she would go if I went. Early on, it looked like I would actually show up.

A few weeks later, I changed my mind. It seemed like a lot of money to spend on a misery filled evening. The cost was $25.00 for one person, or if I could convince Hubby to go, $40.00 for a couple. Hubby immediately declined, and then back-pedaled and said he would go if I really wanted him to. I didn’t want to go, so I couldn’t blame Hubby for not wanting to attend now could I? So, I let him off the hook. I was firm in my resolve to skip this magnificent event.

Of course, Carolyn called again. She poured on the guilt. If I didn’t go, I wouldn’t get to see her, and who knew when she would make it up from Florida again.

“Okay, okay,” I said.

I immediately called Anne to make sure she was still going. She gave me some lame excuse about her grandson, who was in the military, coming home from basic training. It seems they were having a family dinner that night. “Poor excuse,” I said. “After all, who is more important, me, or your grandson?” Well, I got my answer to that question!

Reluctantly, I told myself to suck it up and go. Surely there would be someone I could talk to while Carolyn was off being the social butterfly she is. Of course, my dream of blending in with the wall turned into a nightmare.

It was late morning when the phone rang at work. Lisa answered and put the call on hold. “For you,” she said.

I answered, “This is Betty.”

“Hi, Bett. It’s Barb. I hate to call you at work, but I need a favor.”

A favor? From Barb? I knew she was on the reunion committee, so this couldn’t be good.
I tried to keep the panic out of my voice when I asked, “What is it?”

“We’re doing musical skits for entertainment this year. Sonny and Cher, the Supremes, Beach Boys, and The Mamas and the Papas. Jerry and Peggy were going to be Sonny and Cher, but Jerry’s mom isn’t well so they may not be able to come. Buddy and Brenda are now Sonny and Cher, so we need someone to take over her spot in the Supremes. Carolyn and I were trying to think of someone to fill in, and I thought of you.”

My stomach rolled and pitched, my toes dug into the floor, and my heart started dancing a jig, or maybe that was the Rockettes in there kicking my ribs. I stopped breathing. My eyes flicked back and forth, up and down, frantically searching for an appropriate yet believable excuse.
My brilliant response was, “Uh. What?” At least I was able to stall for time while Barb went through her explanation once more.

Finally I said something like, “Barb, I can’t sing.”

“You don’t have to sing, just move your lips. You don’t even need to know the words.”

“Like karaoke?”

“Yes, except you don’t really sing.”

“Barb. I really don’t want to.”

“Come on. We’ll have fun.”

Feeling guilty, I asked, “Who are the other Supremes?”

“Me and Carolyn S,” she said.

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, then do you know of anyone else that would want to do it?”

I couldn’t believe I was being let off the hook so easily. I thought for a while and said, “What about the other Carolyn?”

“She’s taking Buddy’s place as a Papa.”

Feeling guilty about letting my friends down, I caved, “Okay. What do I need to do?”

“We’re going to practice Thursday night in Greenup. Can you come?”

“I’ll be there.”

Woo Hoo! A lip-sync extravaganza! I couldn’t wait to get up there in front of all those people I hadn’t seen in forty years, and make a fool of myself. The butterflies were already practicing in my stomach.

Thursday night arrived way too soon. I drove to the old bowling alley in Greenup and looked around. “Oh Great,” I said to myself. “I’m the first one here.” Why couldn’t I be late just once? I’m always the person sitting out in the car waiting for time to go in. Believe me, the early bird doesn’t always catch the worm. I usually catch weird looks!

Eventually, I saw Marsha go inside the building, so I followed. She had no idea who I was, but seemed happy enough to see me when I told her. Roger arrived next. He didn’t know me either. Then came Buddy, Brenda, Carolyn S, and Peggy. Not one single person guessed correctly. I was thrilled when Barb finally arrived. At least she knew who I was, but then I had lunch with her not long after I moved back home.

Once inside our practice room, I quickly became concerned about agreeing to what was sure to be one of life’s most embarrassing moments. Not only were we going to lip-sync to the words, but there were costumes and moves involved. We had to learn moves! We practiced for a while and then went into the lobby for a quick run-through of the whole show. At least the only spectators were also involved in the same foolishness. When everyone else was dismissed, the Supremes regrouped and met at Carolyn S’s house for more practice.

We perfected our dance steps while 'Stop In the Name of Love' blasted from the CD player. I finally decided I may as well resign myself to being the comic relief of the night.

Saturday arrived much sooner than I liked. I spent the day n my bedroom, practicing the dance routine and trying to get my lips to move with the words. It was much like rubbing your stomach and patting your head at the same time. Hubby spent the day laughing and shaking his head. I’m really glad I didn’t make him go with me. I’m sure he would have been one of those hecklers performers dread.

I was supposed to meet Carolyn S at the Sportsman’s Club at 4:30, so, of course, I was there at 4:15. The place was empty. I sat in the car for a while, but it was hot outside and the temperature gauge on my car was climbing, so at 4:30 on the dot, I turned off the engine and went inside.

I hoped Carolyn S was inside waiting for me, but she wasn’t. Obviously, the volunteers had been busy. The place was decorated appropriately for the western theme someone had picked for this year’s reunion. The long tables were covered with red and white checked table clothes. Bales of hay, ropes, and even a pair of boots were placed on either side of what appeared to be the dreaded stage.

After taking several pictures of the room, I sat down to wait for the others to arrive. The door finally opened and classmates started arriving. To my relief, my long time friend, Carolyn, walked in the door. Fortunately, someone had made ID tags out of our senior pictures, so instead of my lengthy explanation, all I had to do was hold out my card and viola! It was much easier than saying my name and then waiting for the long disbelieving stare.

Surprisingly, I found a genuine smile on my face as I was reacquainted with classmates. Bob C, now there was a name that tugged at my heart. Since our last names both began with C, I spent most of my grade school years seated behind him. He has always been one of the nicest guys you could ever hope to meet. When we were reintroduced, his wide smile told me he was still the same Bob C. I found myself relaxing and even enjoying myself.

When I bumped into Mike S, he asked if I remembered the time the guys moved my VW Bug onto the sidewalk. We laughed and remembered. That poor VW rarely found itself in the same parking place where I went to class. Once it was even hiding in the bus garage. My VW Bug became the topic of conversation when people figured out who I was. And then someone remembered a trip to the Newton Fair one hot summer day.

The question of the hour was, "Were you in the VW when we went to the Newton Fair?”

“Yes. How many bodies were in that thing?”

“Six?”

“Seven?”

I said, “Nine.”

“No way!”

“I think so.”

We were determined to figure out the exact number packed inside that Bug during the twenty plus mile drive to Newton.

I tried to add them up, “John was driving. I was sitting on Jim’s lap in the passenger seat. I think Donna was in the tiny compartment behind the back seat, and I know Sammy was sitting next to the rear passenger side window because he waved at the cop stopped at a stop sign, which nearly gave me a heart attack. I could just see that cop pulling us over because we had too many people in the car. Of course he would have called my dad, and I would have been grounded for life.”

“I was on the top of the guys in the back. I kept hitting my head on the roof,” Judy remembered.

All were accounted for: John, Jim, Judy, Donna, Sammie, Jim L, Buddy, Bill, and me. Yep that’s nine! In 1966, who knew we were making a memory that would last all these years? Of those nine kids, only two were missing from the reunion. Sadly, Sammie is no longer with us. Jim was a year behind us in school, so his reunion isn’t until next year.

I found myself having so much fun I forgot about the Lip Sync Extravaganza, until Barb pecked me on the shoulder. The butterflies returned with a vengeance. We sneaked off to the ladies room to change into our stage clothes. Black pants with a silver strip sewn into the belled legs and a matching silver poncho. We sparkled.

Sonny and Cher were on first, followed by the Beach Boys, and then it was our turn. Before I knew it, there I was, standing in front of all those people. I couldn’t see them, my eyes wouldn’t focus, which was probably a good thing. The music began and after a long pause, I remembered the proper moves, but I think I forgot to move my lips. All I could think about was what is my klutzy self doing up here flanked by two former cheerleaders? Dumb move! Dumb! Sooner than I imagined, the song ended. I had made it through the whole song without falling on my face. It was a miracle. Whew!

After a quick change back to my regular clothes, it was time for the changing of the guard. The old committee members were thanked and the new ones were asked to volunteer. Barb was sitting next to me with her arm raised, saying, “Raise your hand. Come on, raise your hand.”

Lift off! Before I knew what happened, there it was, my hand reaching for the ceiling. Before I could snatch it back, I heard my name called. The deed was done. Looks like I’ll be attending the next class reunion. Fortunately, I have five more years to think up a proper excuse.

Story ID:	4263
Written by:	Betty (BJ) Roan (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Musings, Essays and Such
Location:	Greenup IL USA
Year:	2008
Person:	Me