Reunion Commentary from Rob Sprankle: Knowing some things never change, Friday Night I had parked in the next lot over so my car wouldn't get blocked in case the party got busted. I wanted a clean get-away. Well, I guess being old enough to legally drink and all, we didn't get busted. That was weird. Now one of the cops partied with us. He was one of us! Nothing like parties at the clay pits, the landing, the open field, way out in the woods where we were sure the they would never finds us (except for the mile long line of parked cars), or the Hot Road where we knew they would come. It was just a matter of when. I hardly got through the door at Jimmigans. I kept seeing old friends and stopped to talk. What a trip! It took me all night to make one loop around the bar. And I was sober. I think some people were a little inebriated, though, because they kept remembering things I never would have done. Really, now. Me? Ok, Whatever. Looking across the room, seeing all those familiar faces, I wouldn't have been surprised to hear Mario shouting "The Roof is on Fire!" Well, I made my clean get-away and went home early *cough* in the morning mumble mumble. It seemed as soon as I laid down to sleep I was up again. My three year old woke me with a kiss at around 7:30. No amount of tired could turn that into a bad thing. My kids were excited to meet the people I went to school with, so after a morning of hanging out with my mom and my uncle, we drove out to Dana's. It wasn't as far away as I had imagined when I was told "Conway" and after a few gas station stops, new tires, a second mortgage to pay for the gas, and a whole lot of "No, we're NOT there yet! How many times..." we finally made it. The kids saw the bouncy thing and knew they were in for a good time. They bounced, swam in the frigid waters of Chez McDonald, and ate heartily. A good grill guy is worth his weight in gold. We munched out. The kids made fast friends and even exchanged email addresses. In the daylight, one might make out a few wrinkles or a little shape shift that life brings inevitably, but all in all everyone looked great. The smiles, handshakes, hugs and laughter filled the afternoon with beauty youth may never know. Flooding memories drowned out present problems, allowing us to float above, if only for a few hours, or maybe even days after. Memories hard and easy, good and bad, attest to one great truth we share. We made it this far. Here in this life, if only for a few fleeting moments, we were together. Preps, Jocks, Surfers, Heads, Punks, rich, poor and every variation or combination had to do the same thing to be there - survive. Regardless of how well we knew each other then, to some degree or another we are part of each other's lives - our history; on this weekend, our present, and as memories continue to pour in, and for many reconnected old friends, maybe even future. I was the last to leave Dana's Saturday. I said I wanted to help clean up. Maybe I just didn't want it all to end. Dana and Rebecca's hospitality and engaging conversation almost put to ease that gnawing feeling of bad manners haunting me. "I guess we should go," I said again. " Kids, get in the car!" After one more conversation, one more dip in the pool, and one more jump in the bouncy thingy, we drove off. On NPR a girl spoke of her impending 10 year reunion. She was apprehensive about going because she was less than cool back then, but decided that she would go anyway. She summed up her reason in one word: Redemption. How sad, I thought. Not so much for her then, but for her now. Maybe by her 20th she'll find another word - a better word. Fellowship.
We are cool We're alive We're the class of '85.
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