Deadlines

Isn’t deadline the most frightening word?  I practically broke out in hives titling this post.   We all face deadlines.  They are a fact of life.  The deadline for registering for the reunion is August 7^th.  After that date, I have many reunion related deadlines to meet – the deadline for sending lists to Webb, the deadline for setting numbers and finalizing details at Gettysvue, deadlines for planning our entertainment…deadline after deadline after deadline.

I had hoped that if I continued to use the word “deadline” over and over, it would get less scary - sort of like how Harry Potter insists that saying “Voldemort” instead of "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named" makes him less scary.  I am not finding this technique very effective; maybe I need a wand and 7 bestsellers + 8 blockbusters to help me out. 

With deadlines on my mind, I have to laugh at all this discussion over the debt ceiling stalemate.  Granted, our economy isn’t funny.  But Jon Stewart is always good for a laugh.

The Daily Show - Armadebtdon 2011 - No Visible Progress
Get More: Daily Show Full Episodes,Political Humor & Satire Blog,The Daily Show on Facebook

Regular citizens don’t get the same kind of extensions do we?  Yesterday, I went to early vote.  I have yet to hear of late voting.   Have you?  And what would that look like with hindsight being 20/20?  In honor of regular citizens and early voting, why don’t you register early?  Otherwise, I might send Lord Voldemort your way…

Christmas in July

Each time one of you buys reunion tickets, I get three emails; one from reunion manager to tell me you registered, one from paypal to tell me you paid, and another from reunion manager to tell me you paid via paypal.  So these days, I am full of anticipation every time I check email.  And the suspense really builds because I can't tell who registered from the email subject lines.  I have to open the messages.  It’s fun and exciting and just like pulling presents out of a Christmas stocking.  Here’s what we have received so far:

Sara Maull Foster * Tiffany Wheeler Salvilla *

Rebecca Stanley Larson * Theresa Demers Wyatt*

Brent Midyett * Bay Willingham*

Dana Goolsby Jones * Amanda Keller *

Sherif Guindi * Alexis Wade Guindi *

Josh Feinman * Bill Oldham *

Elizabeth Lucas Averett * Susannah Conley Sayre

Jennie Chapman Linthorst * Carla Ainsworth *

Shannon Muse Baxter

Of course this gets me to thinking of birthday invitations that say “Your presence is your gift.”  So true.  We have many classmates who won’t be able to attend this reunion.  Rachel McCall will have just returned to Egypt.  Matt Bayne will be finishing a project in Dubai.  Rachael Carpenter Byron will be settling her family in Chicago after 3 moves in one year and her older daughter’s first week of kindergarten.  All valid excuses.

Still others chose not to attend.  The ties that bind aren't strong enough to yank them back to Ktown.  I get it.  We each experienced Webb uniquely.  And our lives are busy and complicated.  Sometimes I think that were I not the class coordinator, I might take a pass here and there.  But then I get a registration notice, a chatty email from Jono, or a text from Rebecca and I am reminded that for me, showing up matters.

I have been struggling with defining a theme for our little gathering.  The generous Amanda Keller has offered her help with favors, but I haven't been able to come up with anything until this week.  I SHOWED UP.   That pretty much says it all.

If you blog it, will they come?

I recently sent Rebecca a happy text that said "each time I post to the blog, we get a reservation."  Ever practical Rebecca dryly replied, "That's great.  Do you have 101 more blogs in you?"  Good point, Rebecca.  While I may not be able to write a post-per-classmate, I am going to push myself.  My goal is 7 posts between now and the reservation date of August 7th.  I am sweating just thinking about it!  And I am also sweating because it is currently hotter than hell in Nashville, but that is a topic for another post.

Cassie Ainsworth & Macy Pfeifer (8/2009)

 

Why? Because I just received Carla's itinerary!

If you sign up to follow my blog, you can a.) see if I pull this off, b.) keep me from feeling like a big loser with no followers, and c.) save me the humiliation of posting blog updates via Facebook.  I really hate publishing my posts because other people, non-classmates, might read them.  I know that the internet is wide-open and all that, but I still want to keep our little blog private.  So if you will follow, I will blog.  Let's do this thing!

Blog-oupon

Won't someone scan more pix for me?

Today's post begins with a shout out to Bay Willingham.  Bay was the first person to both register and pay for his reunion tickets.  Bay, this blog-oupon (have I stumbled upon something new here?) entitles you to one free lap dance at our reunion from Jono Cohen.  Congratulations.

The truth is that reservations are only trickling in.  I realize that blogging is lonely work - sending thoughts out into the vast world of cyberspace and all.  Somehow I had hoped for something more interactive.  I would blog, you would comment.  Reservations would fly in and we would get this party started.  As you may recall, I need your reservation and payment by 8/7.  I have spoken with many, many people who are attending and haven't bought tickets.  If you all logged in and committed, so many others would get off the fence.  Thanks!

Important note: I got a very kind email from Josh Feinman.  Josh hasn't bought his tickets yet because he isn't sure when he will arrive and whether he can attend the tailgate.  I want to tell everyone what I told Josh.  Me neither.  I think my family can get to Webb in time for the game, I am not sure about dinner.  And we can get Webb attendance numbers as late as one week prior.  But for many boring, administrative reasons, I need you to make your reservations for our dinner ASAP.  Once you have finalized travel plans, log back in to buy tailgate dinner and/or post-tour lunch tickets.

Class Reunion = Family Reunion?

I had a lot of time to think while addressing invitations.   Part of my brain was focused on correct spelling, perfect handwriting and keeping the rows parallel.  The other part of my mind was wandering.  Or wondering.  Of course I wondered about all of you.  I wondered which invitations would come back with a wrong address, who would register first, who would be surprised to find it had been twenty years, and whether I can correctly abbreviate all 50 states.  I also thought about my parents.  Why?  Random.  Well, not really.

You see, my mom started dating my second dad (I don't use the term "step dad."  It just doesn't work for me) after their 30th high school reunion.  Many of your will remember my dad, Larry.  He and my mom divorced when I was a high school freshman.  I could insert another entry here about my wonderful father who passed away in 1997, but that is just depressing.  And also, this is a light and airy blog, not my diary.  Back to the story... Two years later, my mother attended her high school reunion in Oak Ridge.  After two evening events, my mom was DONE.  Reunions are exhausting work.  But my sister and I guilted her into going to the final picnic so that we could spend some time with our grandparents.  I don't know the details of how Gigi and Big Dad (this is what happens when you become grandparents...new names) reconnected.  After all, I was seventeen and loathed the very idea of my mother dating.  But I am awfully glad that she did.

With this family history, it makes sense that while addressing invitations, I had to ask, "Could love bloom at our reunion?"  We have many eligible, wonderful, fascinating classmates and there is much to be said for a shared history.  Are you still sceptical?  My parent's story was Exhibit A.  I now present Exhibit B.

Alexis and Sherif have been friends ever since Sherif carried Alexis’ books up the hill their freshman year.  Their families became friends and kept up, periodically, through the years.  Alexis and Sherif bumped into each other in Knoxville in the fall of 2008, when Sherif was in town from Kentucky. Not too long thereafter, Alexis called Sherif to see if he would be in Knoxville the following weekend and told him about a new place that she thought would be fun to go to.  When Sherif said he was not coming into town that weekend, Alexis was not deterred.  She called Sherif back and said, “I don’t think you understand.  I’m asking you out on a date.”  Sherif said, “Well, in that case, yes, I am coming into town!”  And the rest is history. 

That's right...Alexis and Sherif are married.  Two classmates.  One reunion invitation.  I rest my case. 

Second Gen

Today's guest bloggers are current Webb students and the sons of Robin Reagan Loveday.  Thanks to Jake and Matt for sharing a bit about their Webb experience!

My name is Matt Loveday. I am 7 years old.

I will be a second grader next year at Webb Lower School

My favorite things about Webb are my friends, teachers, P.E., recess, music, and art.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My name is Jake Loveday. I am 10 years old.

I will be entering the 5th grade at Webb Lower School. 

My favorite things about Webb are making friends, special events, P.E., and field trips. I am really looking forward to the 5th grade trip to Williamsburg.

Jake, Williamsburg was a great trip.  However, my strongest memory occurred after our return when we turned in our Williamsburg projects - notebooks documenting our trip.  In my regular fashion, I didn't ask my parents to purchase supplies and instead scrounged around the house.  And procrastinated.  I got a B.  Emmie  Jones turned in a project that would have made both Martha Stewart and Amy Chau proud.  Her Williamsburg notebook blew my eyelids off.  So Jake, know this.  You are in middle school now.  It's the big league, son.  Good luck!

The Importance of Being Known

I once read that the real gift of marriage is that someone knows your story.  All the little inconsequential details are shared.  Sure, it isn't material for the history books, but the milestones and the mundane are remembered together.    It matters to have a witness.

Old friends work the same way.  I was stunned recently when a good friend, a dear friend, someone I spend time with every week and with whom I discuss my most personal thoughts, asked my maiden name.  How could she know the very things that keep me up and night, my hopes and dreams, and not know that I am a McClain, with a “little c” and a “big C?”  That’s fundamental knowledge, right?

But my Webb classmates know that.  You know that I was weak in science and also in PE.  You may remember that I started Webb in 5^th grade and was in Mrs. Prince’s homeroom.  You know that I ate baked potatoes with cottage cheese for lunch.  You recall that I loved choir but dreaded wearing my women’s chorale gown.  What a failure of custom fashion.  And the blue – total nightmare.  You probably remember many, many things that I wish you would forget.   But you are my witnesses.   And I yours.

So what little things do you remember?  Care to share?

Twenty Years

Twenty years?  Really?  Are you one of those people who say “Graduation feels just like yesterday?”  Because I am not.  Yesterday doesn’t even feel like yesterday, and high school feels like a million years ago.  As far as I am concerned, middle school occurred during the Jurassic era.  Or maybe this is what twenty years actually feels like - A really long time.

If we were wondering in the wilderness of the Hebrew Bible, our time of exile would be half-way over and Moses would be getting very old.  For those of us who just survived Nashville’s 13 year cicada plague, twenty years is more than 1.5 cicada cycles.  That's a lot of bugs.  And historians estimate that it took twenty years to build the great pyramid.  Wow.  Assuming a growth rate of .5 inches per month, if I had stopped cutting my hair at graduation, my hair would be long enough for me to audition for the part of Rapunzel in the stage adaptation of Tangled.  I would need to learn to sing first, but the fact remains...twenty years is a long time.

What was life like in 1991?  Oprah had only been on the air for five years and we were completely clueless about her favorite things.  The kids of Beverly Hills 90210 were still in high school and the friends had yet to visit Central Perk.  A lot has changed.  And possibly some things have stayed the same.  Maybe we haven't built a great pyramid, but we are all here twenty years later, and that seems like cause for a celebration.

Never Say Never

Many sage people (and also Justin Beiber) advise "Never say never."  Yet time and again, I do the things I swore that I would never do.  In fact some of you were probably witnesses when I did some of these very things.  You won't tell, right?  But now, older, and hopefully a bit wiser, I am pulling a never-say-never-two-fer.  I am actually doubling down on the nevers.

Ten years ago, I swore I would never plan another reunion. And here I am.  And I am blogging; which I also said I would never do.  It's not that I am anti-blog.  It's more that I am a reader, not a writer.  And I prefer to read things after a bit of steeping, a couple of drafts, proofing and editing.  Yet here I sit, posting unedited text and sharing my thoughts just after they pop into my head.  Rats. 

What did you say you would never do?  Maybe when you went through today's mail, you opened your reunion invitation and immediately vowed "I will NEVER go to another reunion."  Really?  Are you sure about that?  Just follow my blog (I am literally gagging as I type that) and see if you don't change your mind.

Postscript: I will never win the lottery nor will I miraculously grow 2 or more inches 2 decades after puberty.  I promise.