Occasionally, at random times, my life feels like I just booted back up after receiving a software update that I didn’t ask for.

I look around and ask myself, “How did I get here? How many years have passed? Where did all those people go who were here before and who are these new people in my life at this point? Why do I have both more answers and more questions at the same time? How old am I now?”

At this point in human civilization, especially in this country, it appears that “authentic human connection” has become that much more of a commodity.

I am very fortunate. I graduated high school from a particular town in Alabama where collectively, we still continue to desire to show up to our class reunions; even 25 years later.

Just as important, one of our own, Tabatha Hilyer, happens to be a gifted event planner. She always goes beyond simply just setting up a reunion at a local restaurant. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that!) Instead, our class reunions are like the kind you see in a movie or a TV show.

There is a nice rented out space. A DJ is hired. Food is catered. It’s the real deal. Not to mention, all the details are clearly and consistently communicated leading up to the event.

Sure, it is a great time. It’s a comfortable and fun place to be.

And, I think it’s not inappropriate to say… therapeutic.

We’re 43 now.

As I made a point to speak to every single one of my classmates there throughout the night, I noticed there wasn’t much of a focus on career in our conversations.

Instead, the general focus seemed to be more of a collected sigh of relief and sense of gratitude for all we’ve overcome to this point; both as a group and as individuals.

Born in 1980 and 1981, as part of “The Oregon Trail Generation”, we didn’t grow up with cell phones or the Internet. We grew up in a simpler and less confusing time, I feel.

By the time we started getting settled into our careers and starting a family, we found ourselves in the Financial Crisis of 2008.

Then by the time it seemed things were starting to stabilize, many of us were thrown into a situation where we were forced to suddenly work from home, while attempting to manage having small kids who were supposed to be doing school remotely alongside us.

Yet in the aftermath of that Covid Crisis of 2020, many of us were enabled to move back to Fort Payne with our families to live a quieter life.

Obviously, I happen to be one of those members of The Class of 1999 who has recently moved back here to Fort Payne. So the word “reunion” holds a lot more weight than previous years.

I suppose I am fascinated by the fact we still recognize each other’s familiar personalities from our childhood and teenage years, but now we carry with us 25 years of adult experiences; including both challenges and celebrations.

There is undeniably something humbling and sobering about it. No need nor desire to try to impress each other.

Instead, the sentiment was a sincere, “I am so glad you are here.”

“The Class of Ninety-Nine”

Twenty-five years have passed since I walked that stage

When I graduated, we were the Class of Ninety-Nine

Just turned eighteen, it was time to see

What I could be if I crossed that state line

Twenty-five years later, now I’ve moved back to this town

Back to my roots, the old becomes new

It’s not really starting over as I settle down

Back from the future, this time I know what to do

How could I ever change

If I never moved away?

I had to make mistakes

I had to break

I had to take my time

It would be an understatement to say I’m not the same

That the years haven’t changed my mind

That was a different life back in the Class of 1999