Not a good week for The Class of 75

My oldest friend is in the hospital (see post below), and our classmate Judy died. Judy reached out to me via Facebook Messenger about six months ago, but I pretended I didn't see it. She hurt me so badly, there was always so much drama in her wake, I didn't see the point. I don't regret the decision, but I do honor and mourn the nerdy teenage girls we were, and I'm sorry her last decade was so painful.

I keep getting messages asking if I'm going to attend our 50th high school reunion. I don't answer them. I showed up at high school as little as possible when The State of Illinois mandated my attendance. I'm certainly not going back by choice now. 

But it is on my mind. Here I am, reasonably healthy. Oh, I'm fat and my knees bother me. If I don't get back on the water-drinking bandwagon, I'll develop kidney stones again. But, for the most part, I'm OK. Certainly I have not suffered as Judy and my oldest friend have.

I'm not a wealthy woman, but I'm OK. My cat Connie needs expensive dental work – more expensive than I had anticipated – but I can pay for it. I'll be able to afford trips up to Michigan to meet my niece's baby this fall and then spend Christmas with them. (And I've been picking up presents for them.) I plan on attending the TCM Classic Film Festival in Hollywood next year. When I want to go out to lunch or dinner with my friends, I have cash to cover it. My oldest friend is broke and couldn't afford to go anywhere, even if she was physically able.

My 2BR condo is a hovel. Really, I can't get over the disrepair I've allowed it to fall into. On the other hand, I'm paying down a 3.35% APR mortgage and my monthly housing cost (mortgage and assessment) is only $1100/month. I couldn't rent a 2BR in this neighborhood for $1100/month. That would get me a studio. Judy and her husband lived in a 1st floor studio. (Though she was in assisted living when she died.) My oldest friend rents a room in a ranch house – she shares her bathroom and kitchen with three other people. 

My friend John died a year ago last month. My friend Henry died a year ago next month. They both suffered a great deal physically and financially at the end of their lives, too. They weren't part of The Class of 75 – John graduated in 1972 and Henry in 1980 – but close enough.

Right now I am sad. I am confused. I am grateful. To borrow from Anthony Rizzo in Game 7 (who borrowed it from Will Ferrell in Anchorman): I'm in a glass cage of emotions.