Is it weird that I have good memories of high school?

I'm stunned by how bitter some people are about their high school experience. I mean, some are just seething with anger and resentment over the way they spent those last few years of secondary education. And I guess they have their reasons.

Not me, though. I loved high school. Really, it was a lot of fun. Would I go back to it? Not for a million dollars. But it was a good ride while it lasted.

I went to the same high school my two oldest kids now attend: Wickliffe High School in the thriving metropolis that is Wickliffe, Ohio. I was and still am a very proud Blue Devil. Not that I was ever really a fan of that nickname, though. I would have preferred being represented by something other than the Prince of Darkness. Unless they actually go to your school, no one roots for Beelzebub.

I graduated in 1988 in a class of 162 very different kids. We had all kinds, as evidenced by the fact that our homecoming song was by Poison, I think, while our prom song was "I Melt With You" by Modern English. Enough to satisfy the hair metal fans and the New Wave types. Good times.

Everyone has a certain image of where they fit in during high school. I was kind of a hybrid, I guess, as were most of the kids I knew. Not many were just jocks or just brains or just stoners (well, OK, the stoners -- or "burnouts," as we called them -- pretty much stuck to just the one demographic, I suppose). Most people were a mix.

I, for example, took classes with the smart kids, played football and ran track, and also played in the wind ensemble and jazz band. That was a nice blend, and it exposed me to many different kinds of kids, virtually all of whom I liked.

(By the way, depending on your point of view, that's either the best or worst thing about me: I like pretty much everyone I meet. It doesn't take much to impress me, so therefore I'm impressed by almost everyone. I think everyone has an interesting story to tell and I like hearing their stories. Unfortunately, you can't feel all that great if I consider you a friend because it's not an especially exclusive club.)

My oldest daughter, Elissa, is 18 and smack dab in the middle of the Senior Year Experience: Homecoming court, prom, student government, college tours, scholarships, etc. And I can clearly see that she's beginning to run out of gas. I'm not sure she would admit it, but I think the disease known commonly as "Senior-itis" is beginning to hit her. Not to worry, though, as she graduates just five short weeks from today, then it's on to the not-so-real life of college.

Speaking of "not-so-real life," that's also true of high school: So many look back on it with a jaded eye because it seems to have had so little to do with their lives as adults. College isn't really a reflection of real life, either, but high school is even farther removed from it. Sure, you'll always run into cliques, social pressures, petty people and politics, but generally not to the same degree as you experience them in high school.

Knowing me, all of that stuff was probably there when I was a teenager, but I was far too oblivious to notice it. Consequently, my high school memories are almost all very positive. The moral of the story being, if you live your life in ignorance, eternal bliss can be yours, kids!

Plus, I met my wife-to-be in high school. What a deal that turned out to be! I realize high school sweethearts don't marry very often anymore, so I'm extremely thankful that the same woman I loved when I was 16 years old is the woman I still love now that I'm 42. Terry is yet another great thing that came out of my high school experience.

One of the worst decisions I made during that time of my life was to run for a class officer position. I did this, admittedly, not out of any desire to serve or to give back to the school, but because I thought it would look good on a college application. And maybe it did.

But you pay for being a class officer for the rest of your life. Why? Seven letters: R-E-U-N-I-O-N. When it comes time for class reunions, you as a class officer are rightfully expected to step up and take a leadership role in organizing these shindigs. This is a huge pain.

Every five years or so, someone will ask me what we're planning to do for our upcoming XXth reunion (fill in your round number here). And so I call up Jodi, our class president, and we decide that, yes, something needs to be done. Then we wait a few months to see if anyone else will do it. No one ever does. So then I call her up again and we resign ourselves to our self-imposed fates.

I'm exaggerating, of course. When we had our 20th reunion a few years ago, a lot of classmates stepped up to the plate and did a great job pulling the event together. And I thought it was excellent. Everyone looked good, they were generally in good health, and as a whole we all appeared to be living fairly normal, productive lives -- something you may not have predicted had you seen us, say, back in 7th grade.

Just recently I got my first Facebook message asking whether we're having our 25th reunion next year. And my answer is...I don't know. I gotta get in touch with Jodi first, and we have to go through the obligatory procrastination period before any decisions are made. I'm sure we'll do something, though.

But I'm telling you kids: Unless you want to spend large chunks of your adult life looking through party center catering menus and researching potential DJs, do NOT succumb to the temptation of being a class officer. You'll thank me later.