In the springtime, I didn't have to get up as early. Lunches were usually spent at the bookstore. And afternoons (which ended a little after one in my last semester) I stopped by Taco Box for a 32 oz. cherry Dr. Pepper before going to work. Even on my seventeenth birthday when my car was filled with balloons.

The white Chevy Citation went through three transmissions. It leaked antifreeze for a time onto whoever was in the front passenger seat. I was its third and last driver. The dent on the hood I made with a broomstick when the car belonged to my older brother.

My senior year was the only one I went to either Homecoming or the Prom. Homecoming with the cheerleader sister of my best friend. Prom with a sophomore who I'd get a job for more than ten years later.

There were two sides of high school. Band took up lots of time and provided lots of glory. My band class was the first in Clovis history to win state two years in a row (my junior and senior years), and I was the leader of the drummers. I was nominated for Band King and senior representative. I lost both because I was the only one on both ballots (split the vote).

School was easy enough. I didn't work too hard and didn't push myself much. I ended up with somewhere around a 3.8 GPA. I was going to be an architect. I'd been accepted to Kansas State in the early fall of my senior year and didn't really consider going anywhere else.

I had band friends and class friends. I knew football players because we'd gone to school together since six grade. I went to prom with band friends and my graduation trip (to Amarillo, TX) with class friends.

I was somewhat obsessed with high school for the first few years after it was all over. I wrote countless stories about it. If a reunion had occurred after five years, I'd probably have gone. Eventually I got it out of my system.

It seems like the big influx of former high school classmates befriending me on Facebook started a year or so ago. My policy on that is simple: if you went to Clovis High in the years I did, I'll be your "friend." Most I barely recognize. I haven't gone to the yearbook to check who was who and what we looked like back then.

My sense is there's more body, less hair and lots of children and spouses. That's life, I guess.

Most of my band friends were not in the same class as me. They graduated in 1990 or 1991. So they will not be attending the reunion in a couple of weeks. I went back and forth about heading down.

I'm not going. Not really out of spite, but because I see little use. I don't need to network, I don't have a long-lost flame, and I certainly don't have a spouse or brood to show off. But about twenty years ago, I graduated from high school. It'll be officially twenty years on Friday. I know this because I still have my diploma. Comes in handy for job background checks.

It's been said people tend to regress when confronted with a large chunk of the past. I'm not sure if this would happen to me. I might just be really confused about who everyone is. I've got a lot of stories, but they don't really fit into a five minute recap. And what most people tend to ask is: what do you do, who are you sleeping with and where is the product of that union?

These are the least interesting things about me. At least, I think so. So if you reject the stories most people want to tell and hear back, what's the point?

And there's also my theory that Facebook makes reunions obsolete. I mean, I know what some of these people have for breakfast, even if I wouldn't necessarily recognize them on the street without prompting.

I went to Clovis three times last fall because of work. I took pictures of the old homestead (still on the edge of town, but with more neighbors). I ate dinner at the bar where the first night of the reunion will be at. And I wouldn't recommend the food. I ate at Taco Box a few times, and, quite by accident, met the 2008-09 head cheerleader. I only know this because Taco Box was her sponsor, her picture was up on the wall and, just like when I went to school, the really cool kids go to Taco Box for lunch. She was even blase about someone defacing her picture. Very head cheerleader.

But twenty years is a long time. Over half my age. It seems like the only thing I have in common with most of the people I graduated with is just that.

It's kind of funny, if I was in charge of putting together a reunion, I'd do something like have a class wide Main drag. Drive ten miles an hour down Main, play music really loud and shout out people, "Hey I've got beer! Meet me at public!"

But it's golf and picnics and church. And it's illegal to drag Main in Clovis these days.

Matt Worley and his band friends placed second in the lip synch contest at the school luau a few weeks before graduating. They performed "Welcome To The Jungle..