It's not always a given that you'll be friends reunited
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HAVE you ever been to a school reunion?
Does the thought prompt tingles of excitement or an inexplicable sense of dread?
I remember an old workmate from another part of the world who told me of his intention to attend one he'd been invited to. It was a couple of months away and he had high hopes of it. It would involve meeting former classmates last encountered more than 20 years prior. Far from home he was going through a period of nostalgia for his school days and was keen to rekindle friendships from years gone by and catch up with folk he hadn't seen in decades.
He was doing fairly well in his career and figured it would be interesting to see how others had fared.
After a couple of drinks, there was also talk of discovering whether the girl he had fancied in the final year – but had never had the guts to ask out – was still single.
It may have been 20-plus years ago – literally half a lifetime away for this chap – but the way he was recounting it all, it might as well have been yesterday. He was excited, but to be frank it sounded like a recipe for a potential nervous breakdown. There were so many imponderables and, it seemed to me, a chance that he might end up having his heart broken. That said, he'd already learned the lesson that faint heart never wins fair lady so perhaps there really was nothing to lose.
I'd love to be able to report a happy ending but the truth of the matter is I never did find out. It's a sweeping generalisation but men tend to be rather less fastidious about keeping in touch with old friends and colleagues than women. Sure, tools like Facebook make that an awful lot easier these days. Given that the best part of a billion people are signed up, there's a decent chance your old buddy's going to be one of them.
Anyway – why the ramble about school reunions?
It so happened I had cause this week to try and track down an old friend of my own. Our paths had crossed at an intensive journalism training course in Newcastle back in the late 1980s.
Margaret Thatcher was still in power and Cliff Richard was number 1 with Mistletoe and Wine. The first big story as we completed that course was the bombing of Pam-Am Flight 103 over Lockerbie.
From time to time we'd get along to see Newcastle play at St James' Park, we shared the ups and downs of getting up to speed with Teeline shorthand and generally enjoyed life in one of the most vibrant cities in the country. I'd even spent the odd weekend in his native Liverpool courtesy of his hugely welcoming mum. And yet with the passage of time, stints living overseas and the twists and turns of work and family life, we basically lost touch.
His name came to mind out of the blue this week and it occurred that here again was another old pal I'd managed to lose touch with. In addition to the rise of Facebook, Google has become the first port of call for many of us trying to find a piece of information quickly. Incredible to think but the launch of Google was still a good decade away when that flight came down over Lockerbie.
I was fairly confident I'd track him down and I did. Only it was too late. Devastatingly, the article that came up was one revealing the news of his death following a long illness.
The power of the search engine was able to lead me to one of his former bosses, a complete stranger to me. The hour was late so I compiled a brief email enquiring as to what had happened to my old friend and trying to check whether his mum was still around.
Minutes later a very full and courteous reply came back into my email inbox out of the ether. I had the full, sad story right there in black and white.
It had been 20 years since our last meeting. When I set my mind to it, it took just 20 minutes to find out what had happened over those two decades – without speaking to a single soul.
They say you should never lose an opportunity to tell someone you love them. It may be the only chance you get.
Here's hoping my lovelorne workmate got a second chance at his school reunion.
