Why I Didn't Go to My High School Reunion

My 20th high school reunion is this weekend. Earlier tonight, my classmates attended the homecoming game. Right now, they are probably having drinks in one of the two bars in my hometown. Tomorrow, they will have a cocktail party and dance.

I'm not there.

I wish I could say that insecurity about my short hair/weight/melasma/wardrobe/wrinkles were the reason I chose not to attend, but I'm just not that vain. Sure, I regret chopping my hair off last fall,* but my high school classmates are the people who witnessed me puking my guts out in a cornfield, vomiting on a security guard,** and peeing myself a bit when I couldn't get my overalls down fast enough; they've seen worse.

So why am I home tonight? I'm home because of The House of Death, aka the family home. I haven't stayed there in nearly 15 years and I won't let my children be there without me by their sides. It is a miracle that my brothers and I survived to adulthood. I'm not taking chances on my children.

You are thinking that I must be exaggerating, but I assure you, I'm not.

The House of Death has:

1. Plenty of second-hand smoke. My father is a chain smoker. He is 68 and dying of heart failure, but he keeps smoking. In bed even. My mother insists that he only smokes in the bedroom, but there are ashtrays throughout the house and the smoke hits you the moment you walk in. Suffocating.
2. A swimming pool that is not properly gated. And door that can't be locked leading to the pool from the sunporch.
3. An attack cat. Seriously, I'm a cat lover, but this cat is a psychopath.
4. Clutter everywhere. My mother is well on her way to being a guest on Dr. Phil. Let's just say that she has a hard time parting with things. The last time we visited for the day, I threw away old tubes of Mary Kay foundation samples. These were at least 29 years old. I am sure of this because her days as a Mary Kay "consultant" ended before my youngest brother was born.
5. Dangerous stuff scattered about. Take the sunporch as an example. When we were there for Christmas, there were shards of glass from a broken and forgotten votive holder scattered about the sunporch floor. My mother never noticed the glass, nor did she notice that we threw the remains of the votive holder away. There is a gas heater on the sunporch that is missing its safety grate leaving an open flame for little hands to discover.
6. A handgun. Loaded. On my father's bedstand. My father was an FBI agent in the 1960s. He left the bureau to become a prosecutor, but kept his gun and badge. He frequently wears the gun in a worn out holster (I'm fairly certain that he doesn't have a concealed weapons permit) and insists on sleeping next to it. Last time we were there, he pulled J aside for some in-law bonding. "Want to test its action?" he asked. J declined.

I hope you get the picture.

My friends were urging me to come to the reunion and not tell my parents, but this would not work. First, it is a small town and my parents have many spies. If they were to learn that I came into town and did not bring the girls for them to watch, I would never hear the end of it. Never. Second, I just don't have the emotional energy for a confrontation with my parents right now. Call me a coward, but I can't handle it. I've been through my whole House of Death list with them and they have blown me off and dismissed my concerns. At some point***we will have it out, but I don't have the emotional energy just yet.

*PSA for all pregnant/ newly postpartum women out there: Do NOT cut your hair off in some hormonal wave of insanity. Trust me on this.

**These incidents all occurred the first time I ever drank alcohol. I filched Wild Turkey from my parents' liquor cabinet and, not understanding the properties of alcohol, I filled a 32 ounce cup about half full with the rum and added a few ounces of coke. After the security guard incident, one friend whisked me away in her car (police had been called), begging me not to vomit in it. She took me to my house where she pushed me through the front door and then ran back to her car, peeling out so my parents wouldn't see who had brought me home. I was the talk of the school for the rest of the school year.

***Perhaps in time for the 25th reunion?