Back to High School

A few scattered thoughts following my (surprisingly fun) 20-year high school reunion:

-I'm getting soft in my old age. When I was 18, I couldn't wait to slam the door on that chapter of my life. Twenty years later, I was downright nostalgic.
-I remember every word of the "Alma Mater."
-No one looked good in acid-washed denim. No one.
-It's great to have a chance to say things you wish you had long ago. A particular classmate, easily one of the most well-traveled and accomplished of us all, endured a lot of nonsense for being so conspicuously different back then. I told her how much I'd admired her courage and wished I'd had it at the time. She seemed genuinely touched — and delighted. It certainly made me happy to tell her.
-Apparently, you can judge a book by its cover. Within minutes, my husband — who went to high school elsewhere — was able to figure the cliques people originally belonged to. He could also spot former Alpha Mean Girls from 20 paces.
-I guess I wasn't as much of a nonentity as I thought. Again, my husband: "Are you sure you weren't popular? Because everybody here sure seems to remember you and like you."
-The prettiest girl in our class is still pretty — and just as nice as I remember her.
-It's probably best that I didn't know about all those motel room parties.
-Nothing quiets a room like a video featuring pictures of classmates who have died.
-"Eye of the Tiger" is still a freaking awesome song.