MONIQUE BATSON — Who needs a class reunion when we have Heritage Day? – Port Arthur News

We’re less than two months away from spring break and we all know what that means, especially if you grew up in Mid County.

This sound you hear is a revving up happening in the houses all around you. Of course, we all had some sort of New Year’s wish to get back in shape; but now is when we start using this gym membership.

Women are about to start taking care of the roots like never before, and there won’t be a set of nails that haven’t been manicured.

You won’t find bread in anyone’s pantry; there’s no room for carbs now.

Men will see the lower part of their face for the first time in almost a year as they finally take care of those beards.

Hairdressers are about to have blisters on their hands from the growing number of customers. And everyone will be looking for the perfect garment to wear, whatever the temperature.

There will be no swimsuits involved; we are not going to the beach.

No, we are going to the Nederland Heritage Festival.

Or, if you graduated from there like me, you head to your class reunion.

Of course, we see each other on Facebook and often even talk with people we barely knew when we were in school.

But it’s not social media. There are no filters. There is no way to hide.

You will meet everyone you have known.

There are those who were those best friends you thought you’d never live without and haven’t seen since graduating.

There’s the first boyfriend/girlfriend you had in 9th grade – the one you thought you’d marry and live happily ever after – and now you’re introducing yourself to your spouses.

There are the people whose faces you recognize but whose names have been buried somewhere behind useless song lyrics that you can’t let go of, so you’re all, “hey….you!”

There’s one (or a few) you can’t wait to say hello to someone who’s forgotten who you are.

There are those that you don’t care much about and that you will literally encounter somewhere in the way of food.

And there are those that you kind of recognize but aren’t really sure about, so all of a sudden you find yourself extremely invested in the safety rules for the tug ride you’re clearly too old on to be.

At some point, you’ll feel like you’ve entered a strange time warp, as some groups of friends who were always together in high school reunite and regroup around the Ferris wheel to catch up on whatever happened. passed since 1999.

And finally, there’s this person – your high school crush, the one whose name you scribbled in your journal but never had the courage to tell. He or she, to your surprise, will know your name and remember you instantly. They’ll want to say “hello” and catch up. And they will as soon as you take a giant bite of the messiest barbecue sandwich you’ve ever eaten in your life.

Yes, your high school dream ship will finally reveal that it knew you all along while you have barbecue sauce dripping down your face to follow the ketchup you’ve already slathered on your shirt from the fries.

But, I’ve finally reached the age where my kids are old enough to be dropped off and picked up, or ride with friends. Gone are the days of wearing uncomfortable shoes more appropriate for a nightclub than a carnival. I no longer have to prove to my kids that I’m still young enough to ride the Zipper more than once — or worse, convince them to ride with me because, even at 40, I don’t want to go. alone.

Of course, I will probably go at some point to listen to music and enjoy the annual nostalgia kick. But the food comes home with me. It’s not a lesson I need to learn twice.

Monique Batson is the editor of Port Arthur Newsmedia and can be contacted at [email protected]

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