On June 6, 1986, I graduated from a small preparatory Catholic high school in Staten Island, NY. St. Joseph Hill Academy High School is all-girl 9-12 grade institution moments from the Verrazano Bridge. One hundred and six young women graduated on that Friday night in June of 1986 and after the elite ceremony, parties and good byes, I only saw a handful each year. Then I spoke to them over the phone, got an occasional card commemorating special events and finally, only one or two contacted me every so often. The “kids” I spent most of my teen age years with became shadows, distance memories that little every day moments would trigger with conversations about nuns, discipline or French tests.
With the mounting popularity of Facebook, however came a reunion of old friends, the ones that I spent every week day with, in every class, sitting in rows in alphabetical order, knowing each girl by name and interest. There were those who worried about what grade they were going to get on a test, if they could answer the question when called upon, if their cursive writing was legible, or if their skirt was too short. There were others who had infectious laughs, wide-eyed smiles and Aqua-Net glued hair. They were the girls, the Hill girls and they were my friends. I found many of them or they found me on the social networking site, Facebook, and these connections fostered a new generation of friendship- one about children, families, hardships, deaths, births, jobs, promotions. Yet, even twenty-four years later, matured by life and challenges, the girls looked the same to me- like they were frozen in time.
We met, a group of us, at South Fin Grill in Staten Island this week and it was an inspiring encounter. The Hill girls found some time, even if it was just for one cocktail. We traveled from New York City, Pennsylvania, New Jersey or by way of text messages and Facebook, to take part in an evening of laughter and memories. We could not get close enough on the plush lounge wicker seats (either that or the band playing was echoing too loudly in our 40-year-old ears). We shared stories, appetizers and snapshots of yesterday. “Do you remember when you helped me study for the History Regents, or when I traveled across the island to pick you up in my Dodge Dart?” “Remember that one time when we….” That is how the stories began with the next girlfriend finishing the thought with another anecdotal moment.
It was twenty-four years almost to the day of our high school graduation, that evening on the water just by the Verrazano, when the Hill girls dropped their today to step back into the 80s and reminisce about yesterday- the days when we grew up at that high school on the hill. Facebook made the face to face meeting, that was long over due, possible. And I am forever grateful to have had those moments with the girls that helped me become who I am today.
