This weekend, I relaxed by my childhood friend's swimming pool, flipping through middle and high school yearbooks. We met in 2nd grade and quickly became best buddies during recess, bonding over baby dolls and our make-believe world. Here we are at my 13th birthday party. Can you figure out her name? Take a wild guess. And please ignore my hair and the Forenza shirt buttoned to the neck.
Twelve years after this photo was taken, Page was the matron of honor in my wedding. Today, we're planning our 20 year high school reunion. And no, I'm not going to say that makes me feel old. After perusing our 6th grade annual (which shows what happens when you take a mullet, leave it in sponge rollers overnight and wear a shirt with your initials across the front) I realize I'm quite comfortable with the 2011 version of myself. Instead, this is what made me feel like I had an expiration date stamped across that terrible monogram sweater...
Page handed me her daughter's elementary school yearbook. "Look at how they sign them," she said.
I don't know what your yearbooks look like, but mine are filled with notes from friends. For my best friends, I reserved whole pages to give them plenty of space to reminisce about the school year and reflect on our friendship. And all the messages signed off with well wishes like:
Have a great summer! Meg
LYLAS (love ya like a sister), Page
But modern day yearbooks — at least the one I saw — look like this:
Joe Blow: It was a great year.
Lou Mello: Call me!
"What does that look like to you?" Page asked, as I examined several brief messages, beginning — not ending — with the signer's name.
"It looks like a status update!" I exclaimed. "It looks like they're posting shout-outs on each other's walls."
Further proof that Facebook is taking over the world, and we're one step away from eYearbooks. Great for the trees. Terrible for my ego. Am I already becoming one of those people who says, "Back in my day..."?
At least I'm tech savvy enough to have a blog.