Representing
I hated high school. I considered it a federally-mandated purgatory where adolescents splintered into fixed social groups and were held captive for six hours.
The main cliques at my school were comprised of jocks and their female counterparts, cheerleaders, as well as greasers, nerds, members of the Student Council, hippies, and the black kids. I was a hippie. Hippies were divided into two sub-groups, the stoners and the self-proclaimed intellectuals. I was in the latter group. While the stoners were smoking in the scrub grass next to the parking lot, we sat, cross-legged and quite full of ourselves, bandying about words like ‘existential” and “Kafkaesque.” We were given a nickname peculiar to our school, derived from the place we’d congregate, which was the handicapped-accessible entrance to the cafeteria known as The Ramp. Hence, we were known as Rampies.
Since I still live in my hometown, I am always asked to join my high school reunion committee. This year was no exception. As I mentioned earlier, I hated high school, and I complain bitterly every time a reunion year comes along. The other day Sam asked me why I sign on, since I resent it so much.
“I’ve got to represent the Rampies,” I said. (there was no need to define the term, as he’d been one, too).
“How many Rampies even come to reunions?” he asked. “I don’t remember seeing any in at least a decade.”
I gave this some thought. “ That’s because they’re all ex-pat philosophy professors, or organic farmers living off the power grid, or we can’t mail them an invitation because they’re homeless. Or dead.”
“Then you’re off the hook,” he said. “There’s no one to represent.”
“If only it could be that simple,” I told him. “I’m not just representing Ramp people, I’m representing Ramp culture. Or perhaps I should say counterculture.”
“Which was?”
“The courage to challenge the status quo. A systematic rejection of conformity.”
“I’m trying to figure how that manifesto would lock you into serving on the reunion committee.”
This gave me something to think about.
So, I decided that it was time to stop whining. Instead, I would represent The Ramp on this year’s reunion committee the best and truest way I could.
I quit.