Technically, I did not attend my tenth high school reunion. I never registered or got a name tag or any of that formal hoo-ha. I went to the "drinks" portion of the weekend as a favor to my very good friend Heidi, who wasn't sure she would go without someone else to keep an eye out for any potential buzz killers. Even though I was currently living just three miles from the bar at which the party was being held, I never bothered to return any of the invitations or pleas for my appearance. When I showed up the night of the event, the organizer droids searched furiously for my paperwork. I told them that I was Heidi's date, and if anyone wanted to know my name, they could ask me.
The truth is, I'm just not good at that whole reunion thing. I am a very linear person by nature, and I tend to focus almost exclusively on the people and things in my direct field of vision. This works out very well for my family and my boss who appreciate the attention that I give them and the projects that show up on my radar. What happens when you slip out of my narrow scope? Sadly, often you just disappear. My wife, who makes wide galactic sweeps in her life to include everyone she has ever encountered in all situations, can make absolutely no sense of this. She is going to her twenty-fifth high school reunion this weekend, with hopes of seeing people that she knew as far back as elementary school.
Meanwhile, my friends and neighbors who knew me then and know me now remain patient and pleasantly surprised when I look them up, or return their e-mail. For those of you who are still out there, part of my past, thank you for listening, and maybe we can get together sometime. Just don't expect me to check in ahead of time.
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