Central Bucks East High School Class of '83 Rules! Yeah!

Well that was fun. Big fun!

First off, I looked great. I hit the gym this afternoon, and right when I was out of the steam room shaved my head, so it was probably the closest shave I've had in my life. I had a high gloss finish. Love that. I wore my Almost Prada black suit, gray shirt, and SoHo-purchased tie. And I topped it all off with my Burberry. Sharp. We're talkin' sharp.

Because I had failed to send in my $60 before November 18th, there was no name tag for me featuring my yearbook photo and my name. So that had to be hastily devised. In general though, no one recognized me. I had to tell my name and say something like, "no moustache and big hair."

Some of my classmates had scarily not aged at all. Like they spent the last twenty years in cryogenic suspension and were thawed for tonight's festivities.

And I got an award! I got a gift certificate for a chef to come to my house and fix a complete meal for me and a guest, including soup, salad, entree and side, and desert. Given my father's limited palate, I'm unsure just what I'm gonna do with that, but I have until November 28, 2004 to figure it out. What did I get the award for? For best answer to the part of the questionnaire that read, "Tell us what you've been doing for the past twenty years." I think it was my 'developed an expertise with bullwhips' that got their attention.

And it was fascinating. Incredible the way people don't change. Imagine standing in a room full of strangers, and one by one a gesture, or inflection of voice, or or a facial expression gives them away and jogs the memory, and sure enough, you used to spend every day of your life with them.

There was the guy who I was pretty afraid of, who used to find cause for mirth in me, and who seemed to have something of an impulse control disorder back then. He looks amazing. He has long flowing blond hair, facial features that look like they were carved from stone, and piercing blue eyes. He greeted me warmly (I didn't have to help), and bought me a beer. He was also a paraplegic, although he wasn't in high school. He works with his wife making jewelry from glass beads they make themselves and silver.

There was the woman who when she told me that she managed her husbands contracting business and I responded, "Why I remember on career day you followed around Mrs. Harbison because you wanted to be a french teacher," got this look in her eyes as if to say, "How the hell would you remember a thing like that? Were you stalking me?" Nope, sweetie, it's just this flypaper mind of mine.

There was the guy who impressed me back then as being just such a solid good guy. Like he was from another age. Living by his own values even then, in the ultra-conformity of high school. And he still is. He spent fifteen years in the merchant marines. When he told me that, if he wanted to, he could have just taken out his dick and I would have serviced him there. Woof!

There was the guy who just seemed so much more advanced than the rest of us. An adult disguising himself as an adolescent. He was the pride of our theater club, the Patriot Players, always getting the lead, and just wowing everybody. He dropped out of college after one semester. He's the assistant manager in a bank. He told me that he lost everything several years ago when his house burned to the ground. They said it was faulty wiring, but he confessed to me that he came home drunk and passed out with a lit cigaret. He was kind of a 'phobe back then. I think he's never dealt with his homosexuality. He apparently drinks himself into oblivion at the Farmhouse Tavern (I heard him talk about the Farmhouse Tavern about six times over the course of the evening) every other night. Unmarried. Lives with his parents since the fire. I wonder if there's a piano at the Farmhouse Tavern? I wonder if he sits down to play, and goes through all of the songs from 'Once Upon a Mattress,' and maybe a little Sondheim. I wonder if everyone gets really quiet and full of awe when he sings and accompanies himself. Or if they don't notice any more because they've been listening to it for the past twenty years.

They were all there. That's why I went. To see how the stories came out. The ditzy cheerleader who is now a Jewish mother. The sweet, kind boy who harbored secret aspirations to be a doctor and is now a doctor. The girl who I swear I never saw in high school when she wasn't stoned, who is not fun, vivacious, and just full of light and joy.

And then, of course, there's me.

I never realized until tonight just how afraid I was in the first half of my life. I was terrified of all of those people. They scared the bejeezus out of me. Don't see me don't see me don't see me don't see me don't see me don't see me.

I just lived in dread. High school is the setting for most of my anxiety dreams. I almost didn't graduate because I skipped school so many times my senior year. I was terrified of them. For the life of me, I can't remember what I was afraid of. Because at the same time, I was working in restaurants in New Hope, and coming out, developing friendships and having great times with men and women in their twenties and thirties. There, it was Notice me notice me notice me notice me notice me. And in college, I was quite the BMOC.

What demons were let loose to torment me in high school? Whatever they were, I think they were exorcised tonight.

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