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| Chicago, August 3, 2011 |
I suppose there are people who thought of high school as their best years ever. Their days were filled with lots of friends they truly enjoyed. People who shared their values and sense of humor. And I guess it's conceivable that after graduation, they decided to never speak to any of these people ever again. Perhaps they lapsed into a temporary coma or moved to an Amish community that forbade modern communication technology. Maybe they were taken hostage or wandered foreign lands with amnesia until a fortuitously dropped coconut bonked back their memory just in time for their high school reunion. For those people, I get it. Go to your high school reunion. See all those wonderful people you loved so well, but, for some reason, have removed completely from your life.
“Why had I come?” I asked myself. Why come to learn of fellow students whose lives were train wrecks or sad tales of broken hearts and long-since-buried dreams? Quite the contrary, they are happy where they are in their lives right now. I discovered that many had silently answered, “Why bother” and went about their summer days as if the hollow high school years had not happened. But I’m glad I did. I am a part of history, a part of who we are right now. There was so much laughter - I can't even remember when the last time I laughed so hard my tummy hurt.
Whether you were a charter member of the ‘in crowd’ or one who suffered the cruelest rejection by peers, high school likely played a critical role in your social persona. Whether you were the academic excellence award winner or one for whom graduation simply meant a permanent parole from structured education, those were important years. Career paths and choices were etched into the working lives of many during those school days. For some, the seeds of marriage were planted, while others faced a future of frustration with love and its facsimiles.
1. I wanted to see the connection. Although my high school days were lackluster in all respects, they were formative. Yet I had never explored how my pre-grad life connected to my post-grad experiences. I gained some unexpected insights into how the weaving of that formative fabric related to the clothes I wear today.
2. I was curious. How did my life's story compare to that of others? How had the drama played out for those fellow grads my poor memory could be coaxed to recall? For some, the light-hearted teenage comedies had quickly switched to the saddest stories of self-destruction, so I heard. For others the Cinderella had finally flex her humiliation. The prince of fame and fortune had arrived with the glass slipper that fit her waiting foot. She found her fairy tale ending.
3. I discovered I cared. The more I thought about it in the weeks leading up to the high school reunion the more undeniable it became. I hurt for those who daily dealt with tragedy. I mourned the loss of lives that ended too soon. I applauded those who doggedly pursued success and found it. It seemed that there was more reason to hug, or at least shake hands warmly, despite any past insecurities that prevented such displays.
As I left Chicago that night, I felt both fulfilled and fearful. I had walked through history and listened to the echoes from my high school halls. I was beginning to understand their richness and meaning. But I also knew that if there were a next time to meet there would be fewer of us to share the senior chapters of the books that we are writing. There would be more fresh-faced photos on the memorial wall to mourn. And today we mourn the loss of one of our batchmates, Celestino Nicolas, who left to be with the Lord yesterday. May he rest in peace.
Why go to your high school reunion? To see yourself comfortably reflected in the eyes that shared your youth. To give the gift of caring and acceptance. That is reason enough.
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| Kare-Kare |
On the lighter side, in a city known as the “Pizza Capital of the World,” it was quite ironic that we didn’t get a chance to taste what the hoopla is all about! Deep Dish Pizza – that’s right -- Deep Dish Pizza is to Chicago what Kare-Kare is to Philippines. So folks, I have no recipe on this post, except for photos of some of the delicious foods prepared to us by our hosts, Marielle Reyes, Bessie Nepomuceno and their family.
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| At the Decatur Celebration |
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| Bessie's Bread |
