Part of my trip home was my high-school reunion, our 31st. After 30 years, several people decided that every ten years wasn't often enough. I think that's a great idea.

Different people have different reactions to the idea of a high school class reunion. For many years, I wasn't sure how I would react, or what it would mean to me. Three reunions came and went, all at times when I was unable to go. This year I went back for the first time, and I'm glad that I did it.

But when they dig out the yearbooks and start pointing at things, you know you're in trouble. Along with everyone else! Jan has found something far too interesting in the yearbook. Is that allowed? Joan doesn't mind. Mark and Mary Ann are all ears, listening to Susan.

Harold said it best: It's like family. We're people who shared a particular time and place at an important time in our lives. We can share with each other, and because we have that common experience, we understand. Even if it's 30 years later. Meanwhile, Susan has the yearbook, while Jan, Randy, Peter, and his wife Joan are listening in to see what they can learn about everyone's past.

It was in this front group that I spilled one of my own secrets: how I got a perfect attendance award my senior year, while cutting class left and right. After you missed class, the rules said, you had to go back to the office and grovel for a piece of paper, which then had to be signed by every teacher so you could get back in their class. At the end of the day, I never bothered to turn that paper back in to the school office. (That's what they get for trusting me with an important part of my own permanent record.) Officially, they never knew I'd been gone, and sometimes it's nice not to be missed.

Harold had lots of other things to say, and always had an audience. Melissa and Mary Ann are happy to listen.

It is like a family reunion; all these people show up whom you haven't seen in decades. Wayne has been a regular, but Shellie was back for the first time. (That's what they tell me, anyway. Like I've been there every time myself...... right.)

A couple of rough customers. Would you buy a used homecoming float from these two?

Wayne and Mike look on as Mike's wife looks at our "literary magazine." Yes, some of us had pretentions, and I admit that I denied being editor of that thing. I was seriously hoping that all remaining copies had been lost. No such luck.

Another conspiracy hatches. Peter is unaware that his wife is plotting with Lorna.

Peter and Georgia during the sing-a-long. That was a good time for me to hide in the background; I don't trust my voice enough for things like that any more. (Time for an old Unitarian joke: Are you people going to sing hymns, or are you just a bunch of Unitarians? I was acting like a Unitarian.)

After the sing-in. It was much appreciated, whether it was in tune or not.

More conversations; Rita and Lorna in front, and Susie and Patsy in back.

Winding down: Mike is still engaged, but Georgia's mind is elsewhere.

There was much more to see, and more people to talk to. Sometimes the best thing to do with a camera is to put it away.

Some thoughts, looking back....

The short version is that you really can go home again, as long as you are prepared to be the person that people remember. No matter where you've been or what you've been through, you can do that and be yourself at the same time. Yes, I've changed more than most over the years, but that wasn't a problem at all. The "burden" (such as it was) was on me to give an opening for people to see the person they knew, and to give them time and space to adapt at their own pace. With old friends, you can't force it, but why should you need to? All I asked was acceptance, and that I received in abundance. As one friend noted, I hadn't really changed all that much.

Yes, it was intimidating in some respects, but I finally had to approach it as a can't-lose situation. If I hadn't done this, these friendships would have been lost forever to me, and in effect they already were as long as I did nothing. So every friendship reclaimed was a win. Any friendships not reclaimed left me no worse off than I'd been before, and there's always next time. It was marvelously liberating to understand finally that it all came down to my choice, and that I could choose to make these renewed friendships possible.

And it cost me nothing. The terrible choice that bedevils people like me is to believe that any acknowledgement of their past is an embarrassment or even a personal defeat. It isn't. As Harold said, it truly was like a gathering of family. To be part of that family, I have to share as well, sharing both my past and my present--which is no different from anyone else who was there. Just as importantly, I had to share in their lives, too, and my issues were far from the most significant or urgent issues of those who came to this reunion.

It was all worth doing, and it's all worth doing again. I'll be there for the next one, and I truly hope that as a class, we continue doing these as often as possible.

Last and far from least, thanks to Mike and Dave, who did so much to make this weekend happen, and also to Jan, Susan, Lorna, both Mikes, Dave, and others who encouraged me to make the trip. Thanks to everyone who made me feel welcome; it was great to see all of you.