I recently attended a high school reunion. And it was the best I've ever attended.
Of course, it wasn't mine.
Had it been mine, this would be a completely different entry than it's about to be.
My own reunion two years ago - the only one I've ever attended - was just totally weird and fun. I had skipped out of high school early, skipped high school graduation and skipped over the process of saving any good memories there might have been. For me, high school was just about one thing: getting the hell out.
At my 20th reunion two years ago, I just wanted to see people, say hi and check out how they were doing. Having been absent - both physically and emotionally - from high school, I had no baggage. No unresolved issues. No grudges to bear or crushes to act upon. Really, I just wanted to see if Bobby T had grown up to be a gorgeous man and if my high school boyfriend Mitchell was someone for whom I should have carried burning, haunted memories of lost love.
I also wanted to see a friend named Debbie. Or Debra, as her mother had insisted back then. I had seen her several years after high school while she was spinning around in an extreme rebellion against her family and upbringing. I wondered if Debbie had found peace in her life. I hoped she had.
Needless to say, I barely recognized Bobby T. Maybe he's gorgeous now. I have no idea. All I know is that the Bobby T of adulthood shared nothing in common with the Bobby T of my teenage dreams.
And Mitchell? Let's just say that we never would have gotten past a first date had we met as adults.
Not that he wasn't as nice as could be...he was. But we had nothing in common. Nothing.
And Debbie? She didn't show. Turned out she hadn't responded to the invite in any way.
I still wonder if she's found peace. I hope she has.
But the more recent high school reunion was a completely different animal. The folks reuniting had attended an American school abroad. As children of state department employees and diplomats, they were a well-traveled bunch. The time they had spent in the states was far less than their time spent in foreign countries.
But home, to this bunch, was a relative term. They really had no home. At least not a physical home.
And so it was in each other's company that they had found some sort of familiarity and foundation. Or, perhaps they had created that familiarity and foundation. After an evening of witnessing the joy with which they recalled favorite anecdotes, it was clear that high school had provided a place they could escape to. As opposed to a place to escape from...as high school is for many people.
At one point in the reminiscing, the talk turned to the order in which the participants had arrived at the school. Unlike a typical school here in the states, the students apparently come and go at the American schools abroad. I suppose it's because the children must up and go when their parents are called upon to relocate.
Well, this one had been there first. And then that one had come along. (no names - some of these folks turned out to be lawyers...)
And then there was a dispute.
When P arrived at the school, the common opinion was that she "saved" many others. That she provided spirit, camradarie, some special power to unite people.
But P apparently didn't think so. Quite contrary to the popular opinion, P believed that she had been just another person. Certainly not an inspiration, motivation or leader in any sense of those words.
"But you saved us," insisted one of guests at the reunion.
"No," she countered, "you all saved me."
Now, I certainly wasn't there fifteen years ago. In fact, these folks were MUCH older than me. 44 to my 40....I was a mere baby in that room of geezers.
But I would guess that they had all saved each other.
"Who saved who?" Is that the relevant question? Perhaps what's important is to know you've been saved. Perhaps it's important to know that you're capable of saving someone in return.
I'm sure I've had many saviors. Be they saviors or angels, some forces have certainly pushed me when I needed a push and shielded me when I needed protection.
In law school, you learn the importance of causation from day one. The concept is pounded into your head. No liability without proof of causation. But the problem is that there are different types of causation. Not everything that seems to be a cause is actually recognized as a cause. At least not legally.
There can only be "legal" causation where "but for" causation is established.
So, what is "but for" causation? "But for" causation focuses on whether or not the connection between the act and the result is sufficiently strong that the ultimate causal connection can be made.
Now, if you didn't follow that, congratulations. You'd have a great time in law school. I never understood it either.
But I did understand that "but for" the actions - or presence - of certain individuals, I could never have become the person I'd become. Never have created the life I had created.
Madeline was a pretty obvious "but for" in my life. Were it not for her early intervention (otherwise known as sticking one's nose in another's business), I might still be hating myself and fighting life's natural forces. Were it not for my intervention, Madeline wouldn't be married now. At least not to her current hubby. And forget those three brats of hers. They wouldn't even exist.
When I met Madeline, I was running around without any clear idea of why or where I was running. I was just running.
And Madeline wasn't moving. She was just stuck.
But one night we met. In a clothing store. Of course. And we talked for hours.
Well, we talked until the store closed. And then we bought grapes and plums. And we talked the rest of the night at her apartment.
And then I moved into her apartment building.
I would say that the rest is history, but the details are too juicy.
Madeline thought that I was absurd. She laughed at my neurosis. She found my obsessions both hilarious and stupid. And she couldn't believe that I could have such low self esteem when she was my biggest fan.
From my end, I just thought Madeline exhibited poor judgment.
And over the next years, while she forced me to stop being overly crazy and overly critical, I forced her to stop making bad choices.
The long story involves intricate layers of personal evolution.
The short story goes like this:
Madeline made me feel so much better about myself that I actually allowed a really wonderful guy to love me. I was so busy being loved that Madeline got really lonely. Then Madeline got pissed. So pissed that she sought revenge one night in the darkness of the corner bar. Her revenge would be to hang out with another female friend. But her plan backfired. The female friend was a drip. And a drag. And Madeline was bored. So she looked around. And there was Jon. And Jon liked the way Madeline looked. And eighteen days later they got married. And now, eighteen years later, they've got three bratty kids who I'd do anything for.
