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Life is a one-way street

Nonetheless, I'm going to Idaho in a day or two for the wedding of the daughter of someone I graduated from high school with; 4 or 5 of us from our class will be hanging out together. I don't want to relive high school but I do want to see if I can see (in their eyes) who I was then. If they're half as solipsistic as I was, they probably won't have a clue.

There's a photograph of Bessie (mother of the bride) & me, deep in conversation at our reunion a few years ago. The solidity of being the only Bessie & Elinor: that is, in that world—Washington High School, Sioux Falls, South Dakota—we were who we were in an irrevocable way. Unsure as we all are as adolescents, that was also the one time our identities were impermeable.

I don't know if this is correct.

Bessie responded that she's read that "aging in a sense returns us to that idealized state, and that as we become elders, we recapture some of the magic and the angst of a time period that is embedded in our memories."

And Sun Valley will be beautiful! And there's a road trip! And it's Bessie, Jacque, Becky, Stacey, & maybe Pat!

p.s. Stacey, I have spent my entire adult life saying that the cheerleaders were the nicest girls in our school.
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