Reunion with Class and Culture Shock

— by Lin McNulty —

Photo by my generous benefactor Wendy Shinstine, who made me promise to post a picture.

I wasn’t going to go. I pondered it for a year. What was the point? Why would I want to get together with a bunch of people I haven’t been in contact with for all these many years (decades)? I hadn’t been to America in over two years and couldn’t really afford the trip.

However, when a friend offered on Wednesday to drive me there and put me up in a hotel, it seemed the Universe was telling me I needed to go. Class Reunion. 50th Class Reunion! I registered online, sealing the deal, and made a haircut appointment with Suzie, with the only instruction being “make me look 10 years younger than anybody else there.” She did her best with what she had to work with.

Held at the Woodmark Hotel on the shores of Lake Washington (with no smell of the sea), there were 109 of us out of a class of 419. We all did our best to pretend to recognize each other. Some were instantly recognizable because of an unchanged smile. Others, I’m sure, were “crashers” that were easily too young or too old to be from our class.

I felt overdressed in my one and only basic black dress. Or perhaps it was just that I wasn’t in my usual island attire of baggy sweater. There was an abundance of “Hawaiian-type” shirts. I am so out of touch. I wasn’t aware that’s the “in” style now for men.

Lake Washington High School has the distinction of being the only high school in the U.S. with a Kangaroo as mascot. That’s always been a fact of pride that sets us apart from others.

The evening passed all too quickly, and I never did see (recognize?) or connect with many of the people that meant the most to me. However, the greeter at the entrance was a high school crush that has never gone away. He shook my hand and said, “Hi. I’m (name purposely omitted).” I swooned, “of course you are.” He looked at me strangely and that was the sum total of our communication. No change there…. (sigh).

When us kids from Redmond went to high school, we were bussed to Kirkland and were the “outsiders” for most of our three years. There are no 12-year-long memories with the Kirkland kids.

The night ended, however, sitting at a table with a group of guys that I had known since grade school. With this group, we shared memories.We were the last ones to leave as the conversation became, as it always does at these events, about my Dad. My name tag should just have said “Boyd’s Daughter.” These guys rode my Dad’s school bus. Or remembered him responding to their house with the fire department. These guys were coached in Little League by my Dad. They remembered things he had said to them and they remembered the name of the Little League team they played on. They remembered specific games and plays. Did girls have these bonding experiences like the guys? Not really, other than Girl Scouts. I wanted so badly to play Little League baseball with the guys!

As was announced at some point during the evening, for one night, we all got to be 18 again!