The One With the Memories

When I was a freshman in college, e-mail was just becoming popular. I can remember thinking, "E-mail? Why wouldn't you just call someone on the phone?" It's so funny how much I use it now. But I remember not really wanting to set up an e-mail address because none of my friends back home would have one. However, I sat in the computer lab at KU and picked out an e-mail address: drivintroi, after my 1978 metallic blue Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme who I drove for seven years. I've never changed it because I will still get random e-mails from people I went to college with who I still like to hear from but don't hear from regularly. I still have my phone number listed because I want to be found if an old friend wants to find me.

However, last night, I discovered why this is a problem. I can be found by people I don't want to find me. Last night, in my e-mail, I had an e-mail from a Julie Richardson that was titled, "FHS Class of 1997." I was thinking to myself, "Please, please let this be one of those promotional e-mails from one of those sites that hook you up with your friends from high school." Nope. It was the e-mail I was dreading -- the let's plan our 10-year reunion e-mail. I moved to another coast in hopes these people would never find me. Unfortunately, I didn't change my e-mail.

The e-mail went on to say: Julie (GILL) Richardson and Jessica (CONRAD) Mathis are trying to gather addresses and phone numbers to plan our 10-year reunion next year. Yes, folks, we're married. We have kids. We stay home to take care of our kids and our lives are so fulfilled. E-mail and tell us how you are. Oh and are you in contact with anyone in the class? We need to get in touch with everyone.

Well, I responded to say that I don't talk to anyone in the class, so I can't be of much help. But I did pass along my contact information.

What can I say? I'm not 20 anymore. I don't hate any of those people. They were all very nice to me in high school. They didn't hate me or treat me bad. They just didn't understand me. And I didn't understand them. Some people are just born in the place that they belong. They live there their whole lives and enjoy it. In Arlington, if you're a female, that means marrying your high school sweetheart (if you aren't married by 21, you're an old maid), attending the nearby JuCo and working as a nurse or teacher until you have children, at which time you quit your job and stay home to raise them. It doesn't include getting an education or getting out into different places to learn what life is like in other parts of the country. It doesn't include learning about other cultures, learning more about issues that don't necessarily affect you or gaining your independence from your family. I guess you all know, that's not me. I thought everyone around me was small-minded. They couldn't accept people who were different, and I was. I liked sports, I don't want children, I wanted to learn about other races and cultures, I was a Democrat and I don't want to take my husband's last name. In fact, when I was 18, I didn't want to get married at all. I didn't want to stay home and do the laundry and raise kids and define myself by what my husband did. I left Reno County to go to college and I left the state for my first job. I wasn't born to live in that lifestyle my whole life.

When I first moved to Lawrence, I really resented those people and what they stood for. I couldn't understand how they couldn't want more for their lives. It wasn't until I was 20 and one of my closest friends said to me after her boyfriend finally proposed to her, "I was out with Brody feeding the cows tonight and I thought how happy I would be to do this every night for the rest of my life." At first I felt sorry for her. Then I realized, who am I to judge someone who has truly found happiness? Who am I to say that what she wants for her life is wrong? Why is my idea of happiness the right kind of happiness? It isn't. And then I realized, for women like Julie (GILL) Richardson, they have accomplished all their goals and reached their dreams, just like I have. Just because my dreams are drastically different doesn't mean we can't all be happy for each other.

Before I moved to California, I went back home to say good-bye to my family, and I went somewhere I hadn't been in five years -- the Abbyville Rodeo, the one social event put on by my hometown every year. Everyone goes. I hadn't gone because these were all people I have nothing in common with and no desire to see. But I felt I had grown up and wanted to see some of my old friends. I ran into Audri (FOSTER) Whateverhernewlastnameis, and she told me, "I'm so proud of you. I knew you were going to be the one to get out of here and do something great with your life. You've done everything you always said you would." And I said back, "I feel the same way about you." She did all the things she always wanted to do -- she became a nurse, married a cowboy and has two beautiful children. Just because her life would make me unhappy doesn't mean I can't be happy for her. My life would make her unhappy.

Anyway, this has been a long way of saying that I don't know if I'll go to my reunion. I don't hate any of those people or resent them for what happened to me in high school. It's not their fault I was unhappy and suicidal and couldn't wait to get away. They didn't cause it. We were just different. I don't want to go back and see that Michelle (SHELTON) Whateverhernewnameis is fat and has six kids. I don't want to gloat about all that I have. To them, I'm unsuccessful. I'm 26, unmarried and have no children. To me, they're unsuccessful. We don't have anything in common. But it might be good to see them for one night and see that they've all achieved their own version of happiness. It also might be terrible to go back and relive all those old feelings of inadequacy and unhappiness. But I have a year to decide. I guess I'll think about it again the next time I hear from Julie (GILL) Richardson.