Hate at the reunion

Look, I find the high school reunion fantastic for several reasons. For me, it has a partly geographical basis. I lived in Zeeland in my teenage years, but I am not from there and my parents have since traded the south of the country for the east, so I rarely run into an old classmate spontaneously. Moreover, I was just not typing on a Husqvarna typewriter but Facebook and WhatsApp did not exist yet, so apart from a postcard on the left and a love letter on the right, there were few means of communication. That reunion was a party and if it happens again, I will be lying in front of the main entrance. The smell of the building, the corner where we chatted, the music room.

So am I completely anti-reunion? No. Not entirely. But for the other well-you-know gatherings, you basically don't need to invite me.

Why not? Because there are undoubtedly always people there that I don't like. If I had liked them, I would have maintained contact. Because the establishment of a reunion often takes longer than the period you want to commemorate. Because there will be endless arguments about the location and then you will receive strict emails about who will pay for what and whether you want to transfer that in advance.

And then I just don't feel like it anymore. I discussed it last week with Leco while he was cutting my hair. Because don't we also have a gathering with our Beau Monde group every year? ‘That's a group of friends that formed during a work period,’ the master corrected me. ‘That's something entirely different. At a reunion, you would also have to invite the marketing manager and the secretary, and your publisher.’

I thought about it for a moment. He was right. Another downside of the reunion. There is always the danger that you forget to invite someone.

Leco brought up my last downside. Reuniting is looking back and we don't like that. ‘I find tomorrow anyway more fun than yesterday,’ he concluded.

And that, that should be on a tile.

Main image: May by Lidian van Megen