I am just returning from a three day reunion in San Antonio, Texas, with six of my high school girl friends. We all graduated from Harlan High School in Harlan, Iowa, in 1961, and today live all over the US. One of us is from Pennsylvania, one from Arizona, one from Indiana, two from Texas, one still in Iowa, and of course, I am now from Florida.
We have all gone on to do many different things with our lives — one of us works in insurance, one in banking, one is a retired teacher, one worked with her husband in their trucking company, one is a retired medical technician, one worked in retail, and I am a speaker and author. Of all of us, only three are still working. Two of our husbands have died, one is divorced, and the other four are all with the same husband they married soon after high school.
What is amazing is that even after all these years and all the changes in our lives, we can still come together and share the joys and sorrows of our lives with no thought of competition or judgment. The very best part of our reunion, however, is sharing old memories. We laughed and laughed and all became young girls again!
We talked about old boy friends and particularly one of mine, who, when he wanted a convertible, simply sawed the top off his car! We laughed about the “Gregore” parties (a horror movie channel which had such stupid movies that today they would probably be rated “G!”) which we had every Saturday night and how we coerced the principal to announce on the loud speaker on Fridays to the whole school where the party would be held that weekend. We reminisced about making Chef Boyardee pizzas out of the box for a special treat and how at holiday time we would add green and red food coloring to the crusts. (Oh, my, little did we know what a GOOD pizza tasted like!)
Today, which was our last morning together, two of my friends came to knock on my hotel room door to wake me up in revenge for all the “Come As You Are” parties that my mother and I used to plan for them. My mother would drive me to everyone’s house VERY early on a Saturday morning and I would wake them up, and then they had to come in their various forms of PJ’s, just exactly as I had found them. My Mom would then make us breakfast, including her famous homemade doughnuts, out on our deck. After about the second or third party over the years, the word spread to the “boys” we liked, and they used to hide in the bushes behind our house to see what their girlfriends looked like “au naturel!”
We giggled about all the ways we tried to get out of taking a shower in gym class, and how we pretended that the white powder you had to step in to prevent athlete’s foot caused “leprosy”, and how we chased one another around trying to give “it” to them! (Our friend, Judy, who was a Physical Education teacher, told us that she always told her classes that her two best friends, Mary and me, had taught her every possible way to get out of gym, so don’t even try anything as she already knew every trick in the book!)
We lovingly spoke of the teachers we valued as well as those who caused us grief, and we gossiped about all the “scandals” of a small town. We talked about our parents, our brothers and sisters, our husbands, and our children, and of course, those of us who are grandparents pulled out LOTS of pictures. Of course, we talked about “women” things (LOTS of laughs there especially since I am now dating again! ;-), and we shared recipes, vacation ideas, shopping bargains, and LOTS and LOTS of stories. And all of this was done mostly around tables, eating and drinking lots of wine and margaritas –we were NEVER late for Happy Hour! 😉
Most of all, however, we were allowed to be fully who we are as unique and lovable human beings, each with our own idiosyncrasies. It is so wonderfully comfortable to be with friends who know your whole history and who still love you anyway. They are there to laugh with you, cry with you, and celebrate with you the many joys this life has to offer. What we discover every year is that even though we do not see one another more than about once a year and many of us do not even talk except for a forwarded email now and then and a Christmas letter, we can come back together and start exactly where we left off.
I remember Mary’s mother, Frances, who was our girl scout leader and wore blue socks with her red high heels and jeans when we went on camping trips, always telling us: “Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other’s gold.” How very true this is! “Old” friends are one of the most wonderful blessings we will ever have, and I am so grateful for mine.
(And if you are planning a reunion, I highly recommend San Antonio and the Riverwalk where you don’t need cars, you can get your exercise, and there are DOZENS of places to eat and drink!)
For more ideas about how to bring your friends, family, and community more joy, get Barbara’s books, “The Simple Truths of Appreciation — How Each of You Can Choose to Make a Difference” and “CARE Packages for the Home — Dozens of Ways to Regenerate Spirit Where You Live” at
