In every group of friends, you need a pragmatist, an anything-goes-er, a salt-of-the-earther, and a historian. I’m the latter, which can be tough because people don’t always like cameras, tape recorders, or people with notepads in their faces. But if I didn’t stick to my guns, you wouldn’t be reading this.
Each archetype was represented in my group of childhood besties. This might be one of the reasons we have stayed close for decades. We have been linked by an invisible pink, glittered string that has threaded in and out of our lives as we played kickball, went roller-skating, had epiphanies, got/lost boyfriends, and, for most of us, moved out of Waco, Texas.
As Gen X as it gets
I don’t get back often, so when I had the chance, I texted in all caps: “PICK A DATE AND DON’T FLAKE. And while we’re at it,” I added, “let’s invite all of our school friends, 5th grade and below.” Come hell or high water, my elementary school buds and I were going to have our first-ever reunion in over 40 years. And it was gonna be out of control. (Well, within reason of course.)
It was as Gen X as it gets. Half-baked plans cemented on a hot day in May. Invites going out two weeks—and in some cases one day—before a location was chosen. My only caveat was the bar must be ‘super divey’ and have extremely unhealthy fried food. We settled on Hemingway’s Watering Hole, which was more upscale than expected. (And truly delicious.)
Most of us are only linked through social media, other than our core group. So we took a stab with Facebook messages like, “So, I don’t know if you remember me, but…” and “Hey, do you still live in Texas?”
Women unite
I fished out my Hillcrest Hawks fifth-grade t-shirt, which somehow still fits. I flew to Dallas and drove with a friend to Waco, blasting Prince’s “1999” and Madness’s “Our House” down a surprisingly fast-moving I-35. When we arrived, I half expected to see the arcade where I had been the Ms. Pacman champ, as if the city had been frozen since 1982.
Woman after woman showed up running the gamut of life experiences: lawyers, Marines, devoted mothers, social workers, chaplains, and, of course, Upworthy writers. (Okay, well maybe just one of each.)
We hugged and laughed and marveled at how little our generation seems to age. We reminisced about slumber parties, spin the bottle, Girl Scouts, tree swings, our sweet dogs, and, of course, notes we’d pass to each other about boys.
Shared childhood crush
And so when Tom walked in, the room gasped a bit. He was the only guy to show up to this reunion, but what was even more noteworthy was this: we found out he was every single one of our grade-school crushes. Then and now, he was kind, stoic, and humble, even though his name must be scribbled in so many Trapper Keepers.
Now, Tom has long since been married with two adorable children, so he was a bit embarrassed by our excitement. But in his typically super-chill fashion, he played it off, bought us beers, and showed us pictures of his stunning family. Of course, others had beautiful families and dogs and lives to show off too. And so we did.
Our favorite teacher
As if that wasn’t special enough, our favorite teacher, Carol Steady, drove in for an extra surprise. She has since retired after teaching for 32 years in the elementary school system. Many of us had her for third-grade homeroom, but we all loved each other so much she requested that she move up to fourth grade to continue teaching us.
When asked why she showed up, she responded with a question: “How could I miss the opportunity to meet up with the class that I taught for two years, but also taught me how to be a better teacher?”
Now, when someone you admire dearly knew you as a child, it’s hard not to wonder how you were once seen. She told me, “I met you before you entered my class. The audacity of this little freckled girl with glasses telling me to smile!! All my classes were close to my heart, but you guys were special. The bond, the honesty in speaking your minds respectfully, and the growth made us family.”
From teacher to friend
It was incredibly unique to sit with her as a friend and not just our childhood educator. She felt the same way. “Looking around the room this past weekend, my heart was full. Strong and successful individuals who have stayed in contact with me even through COVID. Proud is an understatement. I am forever thankful for the opportunity to be your teacher and blessed to be a part of your lives now.”
She then added an excellent reminder of how far teachers have come: “My first year of teaching, I made $8,990 annually. The pay was small, but the benefits were priceless! This past weekend proved that. Thank you all for loving on me! It is one thing to say I love you, but you guys actually show it. That’s a love I can’t explain.”
As we were all saying our goodbyes outside the pub, the sky began to threaten rain. There’s something about the air in Texas. It’s thick and loyal and eerily still, as if someone just said to it, “Don’t move. There’s a bee in your hair. Let me just get it.” It does as it’s told, and that stillness has always felt like home to me. We formed a circle as heat lightning began flashing. This took me right back to the strobe lights that flickered at Skate World while some very serious, ominous Journey song played.
Being kind to your younger self
As I looked around at this beautiful group—at my gorgeous pragmatist, my worldly anything-goes-er, my brilliant salt-of-the-earther, my other touchstones, my lovely teacher, and, of course, OUR first crush Tom—I remembered how important the through-lines of our lives are. They knew me when I’d only been on the planet for five years. When I wore dresses with bunny rabbits on them or ran after ice cream trucks. They helped me remember that young girl with complete kindness and grace, even though I haven’t always been so easy on myself.
So, if and when you get an invite to go to your elementary school reunion, fish out that old t-shirt and go show a little kindness to your nine-year-old self. Let others reflect you like a mirror, reminding you that despite the laugh-lines and gray hairs, you’re still you. And if the t-shirt doesn’t still fit, wear it as a bandana.
