I went to my high school museum yesterday. It was my first activity for my 50th high school reunion. The museum is in the basement of the high school. I found it by following a line of old people who were filing down the stairs. I assumed they were my former classmates. But I didn't recognize anyone and no one recognized me.
I checked out the exhibits, mainly the ones for the band since that was my big thing in high school.
I was the drum major my junior and senior year. Not a single photo of me dressed as a Brave. Apparently you had to donate something to the museum to be acknowleged. It is just as well. As my daughter pointed out to me when I proudly showed her a photo of me in my Brave drum major outfit, it was cultural appropriation and I should be ashamed for treating Native Americans as mascots.
Sigh. The one thing I did in high school and my kid's are ashamed of it.
Tonight is the reunion dinner at the old prison grounds. I'm dreading it. It is scheduled for four hours. I will be lucky to stand it for an hour. As I figured, pretty much no one I knew in high school is going to the reunion. And now I am seriously wondering why I did.
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