The time has come for my 30th high school reunion down in Miami Beach. I won’t be attending, at least not at this cycle; but talk to me again in ten years; who knows? It’s not that I’m not curious; I am. A little. I am more ambivalent than anything. That feeling matches quite neatly the one I wore around me like a coat through all 3 years of high school at Miami Beach Senior High.
The morning of March 17, 1985 was a Sunday. Because of that we had to wait an extra-long time for the K Bus to take us to downtown Miami and our destination, the Omni Mall. It was about 9 am but it was already hot as we stood out on Washington Boulevard and 10th Street. My sister Mary, her friends Marina and Melba and I were going to meet our friend Johnny Pagan at Mother’s Records to buy concert tickets. We were full of anticipation and dread, fearing they might sell out by the time we got in line.
For most kids, the transition from Junior High to High School is not that different. Sure, there’s a little fear of the unknown and a little relocation involved, but going from 9th to 10th Grade shouldn’t be that big of a deal. It’s just a combination of old and new friends in largely familiar surroundings.
My case was a little different. Due to my mom’s Sudden Transcontinental Relocation “Plan,” or STRi”P,” I got to experience the transition from the Golden State to the Sunshine State, or, if you will, 2,741 miles of ‘vive le difference.’ No friends, no familiar surroundings (not even any hills or mountains); it was an unwitting and unwanted fresh start for me.