Superimposition

One of my friends, who is in her fifties, recently went to her middle-school reunion. Frankly, I would prefer to forget middle school, but she was excited about it and had kept in touch with her classmates, including Didi Conn, who played Frenchie (with the pink hair) in the movie Grease. The reunion was held at her former classmate’s Manhattan apartment, on Central Park West. As my friend stood outside smoking one last cigarette in the cold before heading up to the party, she saw a beautiful brunette woman who looked familiar. My friend greeted her warmly.

The woman seemed slightly nervous, but was friendly. They chatted about the impending snow, the economy, the neighborhood. “Are you excited about the reunion?” my friend asked. It soon became clear that the woman had no idea what my friend was talking about. My friend apologized, and the woman went on her way. One of my friend’s former classmates got out of a cab and said, “How do you know Julianna Margulies?”

Would I be able to tell Julianna Margulies from my middle school classmates? Probably not. I think, though, that like our relationships with celebrities, the connections we have after many years are much more imagined than real. I remember seeing Christie Brinkley in the FAO Schwartz in Manhattan and thinking, “Where do I know her from?” but of course, I didn’t know her at all. Our classmates—and mostly I mean the ones we haven’t kept in touch with--are recognizable the way that celebrities are in real life:  vaguely familiar, taller or shorter or blonder than we remember, and hard to place right away. Perhaps it’s impossible to see them exactly as they are. It reminds me of those awful “reflection” pictures that were popular back in the early 1980s, in which your own misty profile hovered above your smiling face—only the present you is the smiling face, and the ghostly profile is you then. Or maybe it's the other way around--at least, whenever I meet up with someone I knew a long time ago, it's almost as if the person I knew a long time ago is superimposed on their present self. 


Which, I guess, means that even if you look spectacular, everyone is going to remember the you with acne and coke bottle glasses anyhow. No matter what your Facebook profile photo looks like.  

Now, what one might talk about at a middle school reunion, I have no idea. Do you still have that Loverboy album? Do you choose Truth or Dare? Isn't (insert person, place or thing) gross? No, dare, and definitely, yes.