It is that season. I’ve been receiving the letters about the events planned this summer for the 50th reunion of the Class of ’71 of Sweet Grass County High School. I remember that my mother didn’t attend any of her high school class reunions until her 50th. After attending her 50th, she got together with other class members until there were so few left and they had become so aged that it was no longer possible. I don’t think I’ll be following in her footsteps. I’ve read the letters and I joined the Facebook page, but I’m not finding any attraction in paying $50 for an afternoon gathering with former classmates followed by riding on a trailer in the annual rodeo parade wearing a $20 t-shirt. I know that the gathering is meaningful to some people, but I don’t share their enthusiasm.

I’ve never been much for reunions. There are a lot of reasons. The first is that I never developed much of a sense of belonging in high school. I didn’t graduate. I was admitted to college under an early admissions program and went from my junior year in high school to my freshman year in college. When the 10-year reunion rolled around, I wasn’t invited. I didn’t appear on the roster of the graduates of the class of ’71. With all of the social media and with the simple fact that my sister lives in our old home town, it was easy for classmates to find me. I don’t mind that they know my address.

I think that another reason I have never gotten into reunions is that I’ve been blessed with a life that is meaningful and engaging in the present. I’ve always had meaningful work and a community of people around me that offer support. Whenever I hear someone refer to high school as “the best years of your life,” I can’t fathom what they mean. I don’t look back on those years in that way at all.

I formed closer ties and more lasting friendships with classmates in college and graduate school, but I’ve not been attracted to those reunions, either. I know it won’t be long before I start hearing of plans for a 2024 reunion of my college class. I did graduate from college. And there may be more attraction for that gathering because while we didn’t attend the same high school, Susan and I went to college together and graduated in the same class.

After receiving the latest offering from the reunion committee, I was thinking about why attending isn’t a priority for me. I know that some classmates will travel farther and will make the trip a priority for their time this summer. There are some who are excited about the gathering. I decided that part of it is that I much prefer being a newcomer to being an old timer. Despite my age, I still enjoy beginnings and tackling new adventures. I’m happy being a newcomer to the Pacific Northwest. I don’t quite fit in and I don’t mind that at all.

I’ve been participating in a small faith formation group of members of our church and have gotten to know the others in the group from seasons of weekly meetings. There is one other member of the group who is not native to this part of the country. The rest of the members are locals - they grew up in the area and they feel anchored in the culture of the place. Their personal identity is caught up with the place where they have lived. I don’t have quite the same connection with any place. I left the town where I grew up 51 years ago. I left the state of my birth four years later. I guess there are some ways in which I consider myself to be a Montanan, but I lived in South Dakota for more years than I lived anywhere else and if you add in the years we lived in North Dakota, but within the service area of Rapid City, you might think that I’m pretty much a Dakotan. Somehow, however, I’ve chosen to disconnect myself from that place.

I’ve noticed that the members of the reunion committee all live within 60 miles of our old home town. I don’t know whether or not some have lived farther away and moved back. I think most of them stayed in the region for all of their lives.

I loved growing up in Montana. I loved living in South Dakota, but I also loved living in Idaho, North Dakota and even Chicago. I think I’m going to love living in Washington.

One of my teachers pointed out that much of the theology of the Hebrew Scriptures is disconnected from place. In the time of Abraham and Sarah, it was common for religion to be a local phenomenon. When one moved from one place to another, one adopted the religion of the new place. Abraham and Sarah, however, developed and passed on a faith in God who is in every place. My teacher said, ours is a theology of history, not of place. We are not defined by where we live, but by the stories we carry. Maybe that theology has caught on with me. My stories are stronger than the places where I have lived.

One of the things about traveling around and living in different places is that you develop a sense of humor about yourself and where you live. When I tell a North Dakota joke, I’m quick to point out that I’ve earned the right to tell those jokes by enduring 7 winters in North Dakota. I make jokes about all of the places I have lived. I make jokes about living in Washington. I find some of the attitudes of people around here to be very funny. Just a few days ago I wrote about marijuana culture with tongue in cheek. There is a kind of self-righteous smugness to some of the folk in this part of the country that can benefit from a few good-natured jokes.

I’m paying attention to the reunion events and even though I may not attend, I do enjoy reading the stories of the people with whom I shared high school. Despite whatever jokes I make, they are good people. I don’t mind counting myself as a member of the class of ’71.