20 Years Later
"Mike Asay. Wow. I was just telling my son about you, how smart you were at Gubser and how you need to be like him." So said the woman as she came over to my table after I told my wife to go bug her about joining her on the dance floor--a woman who was always way-too-cool for me back then.
"Mike Asay. The master of the double-play. I still remember that one game, last inning, field covered in mud, winning runner on base. You turned the 4-6-3, game over. We win. Anyone else would have muffed it and we lose. That was our best season, even better than the next year." So said one of actual players on the state championship team of the next year (I was still JV).
"Mike Asay. This is you, right [pointing to a picture of me and fellow teammates at the start of our final race together]? And that's Jon, and Brian . . . Do you think it would be all right if I stole this? I need it. You were always one of the nice guys who never teased me" So said the woman who trained with me for six years of cross-country and who was the senior class president.
And it came to pass that I encountered many conversations like these at my 20-year high school reunion. Most people remembered me for being smarter than I really was, and perhaps I disappointed them at not being some top-level manager or rocket scientist--heck, I would have been disappointed with me, as I was supposed to be playing 2nd Base for the LA Dodgers and re-writing the MLB record books. Or, perhaps they realized the smart design of my choice of career that allows me to live a fairly balanced, low-stress life.
While I knew my class was planning a reunion, I ignored the invitation to register. Meg somehow learned about the event, however, and signed us up. Finding this out later didn't upset me, and I'm glad she took the initiative, as I had a good time re-connecting with people whom were my world for half my life, and nobody seemed to care who you were or what you had become--we were all drawn from the same corner of life, equals for two nights. Meg basks in being the lady-by-my-side in important social situations, taking delight in being the prized bride. It was still disappointing in some ways, as my core friends from yore were mostly absent.
Meg and I were able to negotiate nearly 48 hours free from our children (thank you Jones's--but you're not out of debt yet), which allowed for us to experience, outside of the reunion activities, a brief yet fulfilling time enjoying some positive things of Salem/Keizer:
On Friday night there was an informal mixer at the McNary Restaurant, on the patio overlooking the golf course that I used to run through on lucky summer nights. Meg and I had picked up Elaina, and I felt much trepidation as we neared the entrance. Would anyone remember me? Would I recognize anyone (Facebook kind of makes that irrelevant, but still . . .)? Would anyone talk to conversation, but I talked to everyone I wanted to--all of whom remembered me and were more than happy to reminisce, including a few alumni from Schreiner's. My shyness takes a bit to wear down.
Saturday night's activity was more formal: dinner and dancing at the Salem Conference Center. The committee made a big deal about how wonderful the food was going to be--maybe to soften the blow of how much money we paid to be there--but it certainly played less of a role in my enjoyment of the evening (it was fine, but completely forgettable). Meg loves to dance--thankfully she has given up hope that I will miraculously sprout dancing instincts--but I'm glad she invited me to the floor for a couple of slower songs. Slow-dancing often evokes less-than-happy memories of my youth, where social awkwardness and a complete lack of confidence around females reigned, but this night erased all the former bleakness--yea, it elevated me to a stage I never thought plausible. I value intimacy in my relationships, but being that close to my lover in a context I would normally associate reserved for the cool kids, put my mind and ego in the clouds, as I was on top of the world.
"Mike Asay. The master of the double-play. I still remember that one game, last inning, field covered in mud, winning runner on base. You turned the 4-6-3, game over. We win. Anyone else would have muffed it and we lose. That was our best season, even better than the next year." So said one of actual players on the state championship team of the next year (I was still JV).
"Mike Asay. This is you, right [pointing to a picture of me and fellow teammates at the start of our final race together]? And that's Jon, and Brian . . . Do you think it would be all right if I stole this? I need it. You were always one of the nice guys who never teased me" So said the woman who trained with me for six years of cross-country and who was the senior class president.
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| Clockwise from the top-left: Middle school, Grade School, High School, House, Church. Background: Varsity bball field. |
And it came to pass that I encountered many conversations like these at my 20-year high school reunion. Most people remembered me for being smarter than I really was, and perhaps I disappointed them at not being some top-level manager or rocket scientist--heck, I would have been disappointed with me, as I was supposed to be playing 2nd Base for the LA Dodgers and re-writing the MLB record books. Or, perhaps they realized the smart design of my choice of career that allows me to live a fairly balanced, low-stress life.
While I knew my class was planning a reunion, I ignored the invitation to register. Meg somehow learned about the event, however, and signed us up. Finding this out later didn't upset me, and I'm glad she took the initiative, as I had a good time re-connecting with people whom were my world for half my life, and nobody seemed to care who you were or what you had become--we were all drawn from the same corner of life, equals for two nights. Meg basks in being the lady-by-my-side in important social situations, taking delight in being the prized bride. It was still disappointing in some ways, as my core friends from yore were mostly absent.
Meg and I were able to negotiate nearly 48 hours free from our children (thank you Jones's--but you're not out of debt yet), which allowed for us to experience, outside of the reunion activities, a brief yet fulfilling time enjoying some positive things of Salem/Keizer:
- We visited all of my former schools, church, and the only house I ever remember living in.
- We visited with my sister-in-law's family, who grew up and still live just down the street from my old house. My shared experience with them expands a few decades, so I'm always grateful to kindle the relationship.
- We got to dine at my sister-in-law's brother's deli/store/diner.
- The Salem Art Faire just happened to be in town for the weekend, so we were able to stroll through Bush Park experiencing one of Salem's best traditions.
- Our philosophies and tastes for exercise differ greatly, but we are okay with the one walking the treadmill while the other streaked barefoot through hallowed ground (Bush Park).
- We visited my grandpa, who is hanging on in a new assisted living facility in Keizer.
On Friday night there was an informal mixer at the McNary Restaurant, on the patio overlooking the golf course that I used to run through on lucky summer nights. Meg and I had picked up Elaina, and I felt much trepidation as we neared the entrance. Would anyone remember me? Would I recognize anyone (Facebook kind of makes that irrelevant, but still . . .)? Would anyone talk to conversation, but I talked to everyone I wanted to--all of whom remembered me and were more than happy to reminisce, including a few alumni from Schreiner's. My shyness takes a bit to wear down.
Saturday night's activity was more formal: dinner and dancing at the Salem Conference Center. The committee made a big deal about how wonderful the food was going to be--maybe to soften the blow of how much money we paid to be there--but it certainly played less of a role in my enjoyment of the evening (it was fine, but completely forgettable). Meg loves to dance--thankfully she has given up hope that I will miraculously sprout dancing instincts--but I'm glad she invited me to the floor for a couple of slower songs. Slow-dancing often evokes less-than-happy memories of my youth, where social awkwardness and a complete lack of confidence around females reigned, but this night erased all the former bleakness--yea, it elevated me to a stage I never thought plausible. I value intimacy in my relationships, but being that close to my lover in a context I would normally associate reserved for the cool kids, put my mind and ego in the clouds, as I was on top of the world.
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