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A word from the writer: A toast to the Wooster Excessive class of 1993

3 min read

So I went to my 30-year highschool reunion final month.

Earlier than I speak about how that went, I wish to say that this simply doesn’t appear attainable. I insist that I’m not sufficiently old to be going to my highschool reunion. It’s unfathomable that it’s been three many years since I accepted my diploma and walked throughout the Lawlor Occasions Middle stage as a part of the Wooster Excessive Faculty class of 1993.

Yeah, yeah, I do know the mathematics checks out. I don’t wish to hear it.

Anyway … after I first noticed the reunion announcement on Fb a number of months in the past, I instantly determined to go. It appeared prefer it’d be enjoyable to have a cocktail and do some reminiscing. The reunion itself was easy sufficient—a no-cover night occasion at a brewery. Positive, why not?

However because the reunion date approached, I started having second ideas.

Three many years is a very long time—one-third of a human lifetime (assuming issues go effectively). Clearly, we’ve all modified—and Reno has actually modified. For these of us within the class of 1993, Wooster was the southernmost highschool within the Truckee Meadows; college students as far south as Washoe Valley had been bused up all the way in which to Plumb Lane. Again then, the freeway ended at South Virginia Avenue, close to the pink Scolari’s, and there was nearly nothing within the swampy fields east of Virginia Avenue and south of what’s now South Meadows Parkway. It was throughout our senior yr when Galena Excessive Faculty opened for freshmen, sophomores and juniors.

After we graduated, Invoice Clinton was within the first months of his presidency. “That’s the Approach Love Goes” by Janet Jackson was the No. 1 tune. This newspaper didn’t even exist but; the primary Nevada Weekly hit the streets in November 1993.

So, yeah … I hadn’t seen most people who had been going to be at that reunion since that was our world. Awkwardness was inevitable. Plus, I found that the brewery the place the reunion was going to be held doesn’t even have bourbon, simply beer. Unacceptable.

After all, I wound up going to the reunion. When the hubby and I walked into Imbib Brewery on Second Avenue a number of minutes after the 7 p.m. Saturday begin time, I used to be apprehensive. I made a beeline for one of many few actually acquainted faces, that being the face of Missy, a buddy I’ve stored in contact with for a lot of the final 30 years, if not the final a number of. (Damned pandemic.) We chatted for a bit; I grabbed a beer (thanks, Nick, for purchasing!); and I started to mingle.

And far to my shock, I began having fun with myself.

I had a stunning chat in regards to the provide chain with Jin, who’s now one thing of a bigwig at Google. I had a terrific dialog with Trent, my former elementary faculty finest buddy (and distant cousin, a number of instances eliminated). I realized about life in Antarctica by way of Amy, who has the excellence of being the primary particular person to ever have COVID-19 on the South Pole. I made tentative plans to get along with Missy later this summer time.

We left effectively earlier than the scheduled finish time, as a result of we had an early morning flight—and I used to be truly just a little unhappy that we needed to go away early.

Nicolette, the classmate who organized the gathering, later commented on social media that we’d positively reconvene in 5 years for our thirty fifth. The lord keen, I’ll be there—though as a lot as I really like Imbib, I’ll request that we now have it at a venue that serves bourbon.

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