growing up

As I write this in sweltering (believe it or not) southern Vermont, almost everyone I went to college with (or so it feels) is partying in Minnesota at our five-year college reunion. I didn't know that people actually go to college reunions, at least not until there are several decades between you and the graduation dais, and hadn't imagined going to mine until suddenly it seemed that everyone and their uncle was going to descend upon St. Paul, MN this weekend to relive our glory days.

I'm not there for several reasons, (lack of) money and vacation time being at the top of the list. Also up there is the feeling I got when I envisioned myself there trying to catch up with about 100 people while spending actual quality time with at least 10 people. In two days, three if I stretched the fantasy. That sounded half fun and half awful, so I stayed home.

But the half fun part would have been really fun. I'm not going to say wistfully that college was the best four years of my life. But those were four damn good years. I laugh to think how much I've changed and how much I haven't. And to look around at my friends and where we've been and ended up in the last five years, some more mildly predictable than others (with me probably on the rather unpredicted end, I'm guessing, especially when you consider that I searched out my current job because I wanted to live here, not the other way around). And it would probably be great fun to drink beer and listen to all the stories from the people I haven't kept up with, or only know through Facebook these days.

So, y'all at reunion, I hope you've had a blast, and I hope you are taking notes, because I'm going to ask. Except I really don't want to know who is reliving college by hooking up with who. Thank you.