This weekend brought together a group of people who've known each other the span of 39 years. Some of us didn't meet until middle school or junior high, but collectively, we have known each nearly our entire lifetimes. That's quite a feat. We're not related, but there's that special something that makes us feel like we are.
It dawned on me that during our formative years, we all had struggles. Some of us lost a parent. Some fought to maintain identity. A couple rebelled and couldn't escape the stigma. In spite of what we experienced in our domiciles, we have all learned that our lives weren't perfection, but we unknowingly leaned on each other to find a semblance of structure. We were a bonded family. The camaraderie that existed in the class of '83 can't be denied. In fact, it's still percolating to this day.
On August 29 a small group of us gathered around a fire pit in the backyard of a classmate. Through the smoke, we laughed, ate, drank and laughed. Oh, I already said that. Intermingled in the laughter came the stories of struggles and fears, and how we managed to overcome them. Many friends were missed dearly, but they'll get another chance to partake. Rest assured this isn't the last of such a party. The class of '83 has staked out a time and place for next year rather than waiting for our 30 th reunion. Since our group never seemed to hold to the stereo types that are mostly requisite in high school, it is perfectly fitting that we not follow them post high school.
And heck! If the mood strikes we might very well find an excuse to have a mid-year shindig. The non-family non-reunion reunions don't really require an excuse to celebrate. Good old fashioned friendship is reason enough.
The photo of the fire is complements of Keith Collins. He won't know I stole err borrowed it until he sees this post. Thanks Keith!! That is the authentic fire pit which provided us warmth and black lung.