About a month or so ago, I got news that my high school band teacher died via an e-mail from my sister and a classmate that looked me up and called me to let me know. I keep meaning to send a card of condolences, but I keep forgetting.
He was a really popular teacher that turned our school's band program around and made it something pretty damn cool. I was part of that program for four years and while it was hard work, it was a lot of fun. I've come to the conclusion that to be a band/drama geek is a special brand of insanity.
But the call from my classmate (and subsequent conversation with said classmate) got me reflecting on my high school years. Some people say that the best years of your life are in high school. I think those people are higher than kites.
If you can't tell already, I wasn't exactly the most popular person in school. But in a weird way, I'm not carrying luggage about it. I simply have no desire to find out what happened to my school or my classmates.
I wouldn't describe anyone that I graduated with as my best friends. I was one of those friends on the outer ring, never the inner circle. I don't miss a lot of those people. I didn't go to my reunion -- not out of spite or anger, but more that I never got the information and didn't bother to chase it down.
In reality, someone called my mom to try and find out what happened to me and she bluntly told the person "She doesn't live here anymore." I love my mom sometimes.
I think that I didn't really come into my own until college. Even then it took me a year or two to find a group of friends who I can say without a doubt are my close friends -- an in some cases, they're part of my family. Maybe it took finding a group of outcasts to make me feel like I belonged somewhere.