I'm Eighteen and I Like It

In my continuing effort to avoid cleaning house, oops, wait a minute - isn't this blog supposed to be about CLEANING/PURGING my house??? It seems that I will use any excuse, good or otherwise to avoid the dirty job of cleaning. But this time I have a really, really good excuse - as opposed to all of those other lame excuses I have been coming up with lately. This time I am busy preparing for a reunion; too busy to be cleaning. I am preparing for my second annual college sorority reunion.

I graduated from high school in 1975 and began college at a university approximately 85 miles from my home. It was far enough away from home, but close enough to feel safe. One of my good friends from high school accompanied me and we were roommates the first semester in one of the standard-issue freshman dorms. We soon met some nice girls at the dining hall and discovered they were in a sorority. Being from, what was then, a small rural town - we didn't have much of an idea about sororities or rush or about getting "recs" from sorority alumnae. But, lucky us - they liked us and gave us a bid in open rush. So there you have it - we accidentally fell into a sorority during our freshman year of college. Little did I know that it would have such an impact on me later in my life.

I had a ball at my first college. That is exactly the reason I had to leave. After my sophomore year I transferred universities in an attempt to save myself. In an attempt to salvage some education from my college years. And that is exactly what I did. I moved on and did well in my last two years of school. I graduated with a degree and with a husband and soon began a family, a career and a new life. I always looked back on my two sorority years with fondness and nostalgia. And then a great thing happened: Thirty years after I left my sorority sisters, we had a reunion.

So, just about one year ago, I made my way across the state, with butterflies in my stomach, to a gathering of my former friends; friends whom I hadn't seen in thirty years. A wonderful thing happened. Twenty-five of us showed up, each with our own reasons for being there, each with our own baggage - most of us were over fifty, graying (or hiding it well), heavier, with bags under our eyes and on our hips. The wonderful thing that happened - within minutes of arriving we were all eighteen again. We were young, we were blithe, our gray hair and our extra pounds disappeared and all we saw were the young girls we were in the 1970s. We laughed, we cried, we drank too much, we ate too much, we stayed up too late and then we got up the next morning and did it all over again. Before we left we made the decision that we would do it again next year. Which brings me to today.

I am co-planning the second annual sorority reunion. It is in three days. I am so excited! I have had conference calls, sent hundreds of emails, menu planned, grocery shopped, (dieted), dug up old photos and yearbooks, (dieted and had my roots dyed), copied and collated address lists, shopped, (dieted), and hopefully I am almost ready to go.

This year we have an even larger number of attendees. Those who heard about the success of last year are coming this year. Those who can't make it this year are promising they will be there next year. This is, without question, a gathering that will take place every year from now on. We may have missed thirty years, but we will make up for lost time. We are not so blessed as to have not lost friends along the way. We are not so naive as to think we won't lose more. But we will relish each gathering, we will live life to the fullest - just like those eighteen year old college girls we once were and will be again in three days.