Live Through This

So sorry. In all this confusion, I must have lost track. Somewhere in the past month or so I slid on past the fortieth anniversary of my graduation from high school. Part of my surprise may stem from the fact that I just spent a few quality hours with some of the folks with whom I shared the experience of high school.
Not all of them, mind you. This is the cardinal reason I have avoided organized reunions of my graduating class is because I was not a big fan of all the people with whom I endured those years. I know this leaves me wide open for the suggestion that I am telling tales out of school. This is precisely what I am doing. The choice of the word "endured" was not one I landed on lightly. I was in band, after all. I played sousaphone in band. Which is just a sly way of avoiding saying that I played tuba. I had one date in my junior year. None in my sophomore year. The friends I made were almost exclusively those I made while practicing and marching and going out for pizza after practicing marching. The friends I had coming up from junior high drifted away, finding their own social strata and cliques.
And yet, somehow, I managed to have some fun. Part of that fun came in the form of direct confrontation with the powers that were in charge of that paramilitary group to which I belonged. In my older brother's day, these characters were known as "Band Baddies," as distinguished by their obsequious and conformative "Band Goodies." By following the path laid out by my big brother, I managed to further distance myself from anything that might have made me visible. It wasn't until my senior year that I began to feel my oats, aided in part by an increased effort to generate a social life. Not that this social life crept anywhere near the boundaries prescribed by my bandie affiliation, but a sense that perhaps the "permanent record" of which I had been so concerned all my life might not be such a big deal.
I skipped some classes. I lied to the vice principal. I was kicked out of band rehearsal. Three times. These were various smart aleck remarks and disregard for authority. It should be noted, however, that none of this delinquent behavior kept me from doing my absolute best when it came time to preform. I was still a team player, in spite of my questionable attitude. I was also kicked out of my Elementary Functions class. I was asked not to return. I dropped the class and replaced it with Selected Topics in Math. Got the credit. Graduated. Done.
On graduation day, I heard about all the parties that other people were attending. I landed on my parents' back patio. With my family, and two of those people I mentioned at the outset. There was no drunken brawl of a celebration. That would have to wait until my "gap year" when I worked at Arby's instead of heading off to college.
No word yet on when that reunion will be taking place either.