I am feeling exhausted, highly emotional, and jet lagged from traveling back in time.  In other words, the 30 year reunion of the 1976 class of the Upper West Side Progressive High School That No Longer Exists was a resounding success.

Breath.

High points included but were not limited to:

–Seeing so many friends, fellow classmates, and  teachers. 85  people in all. 

–Sitting at the name tag table and
greeting people, which gave me permission not to mingle. Also I could say: "Who are you?"

–Thoughtful, even passionate speeches by Hedge Fund, Screenwriter, and Gracious Host on their feelings about our interesting education.

–"Our Love is Here to Stay" sung by Opera Singer.

–Executive Producer and Corporate Lawyer doing stand-up and schtick.

–The warmth of our English/Film teacher, the smile of our History teacher, the enthusiasm of our principal and school director.

–Hepcat hitting it off with Gracious Host’s wife, which kept him busy most of the evening; I didn’t have to worry about him at all. And that was a relief.

–Feeling an almost familial closeness with everyone on the
planning committee; their genorosity and big heartedness.

There were low points, too. I was mostly ignored by a woman I considered a good friend all those years ago. Yes, we’ve disappeared from each other’s lives. But I had hoped we would re-connect in some way. Her affect made me wonder if she’d forgotten me or was angry that I’d made so little effort to keep the friendship alive. Or did it have nothing to do with me?

Still, it made me feel invisible.

As the evening progressed, I felt it slipping away. And that was sad. It bothered me that I didn’t talk to all the
people I wanted to talk to. And I didn’t have the meaningful conversations I
wanted to have.

But that’s to be expected. And there were plenty of great interactions. A part of me wanted to stay in that strange timezone as long as possible. Forever. To be 17…

My real life felt less and less real. But so did my 1976 self.

Who was that girl? Who is she now?  Who am I now?  Where am I going?

Deluxe party favors were arranged by Newspaper Editor, who found a treasure trove of 1/2 inch reel-to-reel video tapes of our high school musicals in Los Angeles of all places and had them transferred from 1/2 inch to DVD. 

Sunday morning, OSFO, Hepcat and I watched the DVD of  "The Follies," a musical revue of songs like Fugue for Tin Horns, Ya Gotta Have Heart, the Telephone Hour, Kids (sung by the entire staff) and Keep Your Sunnyside Up.

There was also a naughty, burlesque version of "Don’t Tell Mama" from Cabaret, featuring a group of about eight girls (myself included) alluringly dressed in black lingerie doing some sexy choreography.

I enjoyed seeing my body (so skinny, so young) and everyone else’s. Only 16, I looked pretty damn good in a thrift shop black slip (and I thought I was fat then). I wasn’t as happy about my face with my hair pulled back in a tight ponytail,  I thought my nose looked big. Yes, there was plenty to cringe about, but seeing that video was a true step back in time…

Needless to say, OSFO loves what has come to be known as "The Underwear Song."

Strange to think that I was just a year older than Teen Spirit is now; feisty, full of life, full of spunk, full of myself.  We all were. And it was a great place to be.

To have those moving pictures of us as we were then is really incredible even if the image is grainy, dark, and low-resolution. Frozen in time, we will always be singing and dancing on the stage of the UWSPHS That No Longer Exists.

Because the school and that part of ourselves will always exist.

On DVD, anyway.

(photograph of the Sunday picnic in Central Park by Hugh Crawford)