My latest flip-flop is to decide again that I'm going to my 20 year reunion after all. I have been waffling, of course. Since I had been feeling lately some wearyness at the idea of explaining myself to people I am only marginally connected to and about whom I feel somewhat ambivalent, I had kind of made up my mind not to attend after all. But I got another reminder in the mail, and the thought occurred that I'm hardly the only person of the 365 of us (or even of the 180 or so who have RSVP'd in the positive) to have undergone such changes - though the radicalness of mine still brings me pause at times - so it would hardly be just me and the Inquisition.
Not to mention my falling into the classic trap of thinking of everyone else as unaged in my mental pictures, in comparison with myself. I was shaken out of this the other day at the bus stop downtown. The 21 was randomizing its schedule again, and while I was boredly looking about, I noticed an absolutely gorgeous dark-skinned man, about my age (given the silver in both our hair), waiting a few feet away from me. Then his bus pulled up, and as he moved to board it I nearly fell over as my memory of him from twenty years ago superimposed itself on my sight of him now - holy shit, that's Tony! I thought, and then couldn't remember his last name to try and look him up in the yearbook when I got home. I doubt everyone has fared so well, of course, but being able to recognize someone from my graduating class that I haven't actually thought about in the intervening time at all (to the best of my memory) was a bit reassuring. I am bad with names, and only so-so with faces, but I'm pretty good at identifying people by gestural repertoire and movement.
Besides, attending will be 'fodder for the novel'. My catch-all excuse and endurance mantra.