Concluding thoughts
Having kept a copy of all my writing from the age of 18 and beyond has been both a blessing and a curse. It’s always fascinating reading my old writing and seeing how my own perspectives have shifted as the years have gone by. On the other hand, it’s also a reminder of how foolish and stupid I was when I was younger. I have to look no further than my old Blogger and Xanga (remember when Xanga was a thing!?) posts, which are archived on this website. And no, you can’t read those.
I was a bit of a loner and high school and there was absolutely no reason for me to be so isolated. There were a handful of people I’d consistently hang out with, but I should have made the effort to hang out with some of the other groups of people as well. But, I spent many a lunch by myself, reading car magazines and history books in the library in one of those comfy stuffed chairs instead of getting to know my other classmates better. Talk about a wasted opportunity.
I spent a lot of time this past weekend getting a baseline to know people that I really should have had all along. At least it’s better late than never, and just like it was over ten years ago, everyone’s been extremely friendly, warm, and open. If there were any tensions back in high school, and perhaps there were and I was just too blind to see it, I didn’t see it at the reunion.
The stereotypical humblebragging or outright showmanship and one-upping that one might expect at a typical high school reunion never happened. Conversations were instead rooted in genuine curiosity for what folks were doing, what they thought the future had in store, and of course, the many memories of high school that came flooding back as we toured the school and reminisced over food and drinks.
So in the end, I’m glad I made it out to the reunion. Now, the only thing that remains to be seen is if I can, or am willing, to try and keep in touch with people, or it is all going to fall by the wayside until we meet again in another decade. Judging by my track record of keeping in touch with my fellow MBA classmates, I’ve got a lot of work to do on that front. Sheesh, this is all such hard work.
As it turns out, Blytheville getting cancelled was a good thing for me. This whole weekend, however, also made me realize something about my fundamental sense of self.
You see, when I’m out and about doing things with other people, I carry about a handful of identities that get used when the time is right. I’m the National autocross competitor with the STR Miata. Or the classic car nut. Or the social swing dancer, or blues dancer, or the one who Lindy bombs in public spaces.
But this past weekend, I couldn’t trot out any of those identities. I started off as me, the Guy From Detroit Who Works for Ford Motor Company in IT. And while I enjoy my work at Ford, it’s not something I typically go about blaring to the outside world.
I discovered that it’s hard for me to present myself from the work professional angle. I suppose I could forget that angle and start with my name and follow that with “I own five cars, and am looking to add a sixth car.” Or, “I have more wheels and tires for my fleet of cars than I have pairs of pants.” I’d look like a madman.
That’s because, I now realize, I justifiably am a madman. Most of the others are living well-adjusted lives, and here I am, with a collection of old cars and enough wheels and tires to field a three-car racing team, or traveling to random places to dance with random people I may or may not know.
Perhaps I simply don’t know my former Uni classmates to uncover their weird quirks or debilitating habits or hobbies, and because of that, I think they lead perfectly normal lives while I live one fueled by triple-steps and gasoline.
Perhaps it’s better that way.