Funny, every time I type “Kubasaki” WordPress autocorrects it to “Kabuki.” What does Kubasaki mean? I told a stranger that the word came from my last name. He believed me.
When I say I’m going to my high school reunion in Williamsburg or Miami, others respond with surprise. “I didn’t know you went to school in Williamsburg.” “I didn’t know you went to school in Miami.”
I didn’t. I went to Kubasaki High School. It’s in Okinawa, Japan. I went to school with mainly military brats. I was a civilian.
I went to school with children whose fathers worked together. And this was what finally sealed the deal for me — my neighbors Lori and Leslie indicated they would attend the reunion. Leslie coined my junior year student council campaign slogan “Without Ku, it’s just basaki.” Meanwhile, Lori can attest that last year’s Williamsburg reunion was enough to convene for another reunion.
Reunions are fantastic occasions to relive and revive the past and have fun in the process. Besides seeing old friends and familiar faces, I like the fact that someone else is organizing all the events and taking care of the nitty-gritty details. I applaud those dedicated classmates on the “reunion committee” for doing that. Maybe one day, I will be inspired enough to organize a reunion a la Ku — a tour of the four German cities that JS Bach lived, an in-depth walking tour of the London I know, or a cruise on the Mediterranean.
New details emerged in the months leading up to the reunion cruise. Keith, who also coordinated the design and ordering of T-shirts, negotiated a special daily rate at the Hyatt Regency Miami. This encouraged some of us to get there early and leave late. A closed group on Facebook was created to convey rules of immigration and customs. We were reminded to bring our passports. I got lost in the details and instead asked questions that revealed I was a virgin cruiser.
Am I allowed to bring bottled water? Alcohol? Food? Are motion sickness pills necessary?
Reminder: formal night on Saturday July 11th. Here was my chance to wear a cocktail dress or a ballgown and formal dancing shoes. How could anyone resist?
Don’t forget to order T-shirts. Are they 100% cotton? What color? What size would fit me? How is the neckline cut? Is everyone else buying one?
Leslie and Lori flew to Fort Lauderdale several days early and stayed at a higher-starred hotel in Miami. Robert and I arrived in Miami on July 9th, direct from Boston, and checked into the Hyatt Regency Miami. We were so disoriented that we didn’t know Miami and Miami Beach were different locations.
The reunion began with a “meet and greet” in the Japengo Room of the Hyatt Regency. Julie hugged me tightly, and I introduced her to Robert. I saw a familiar face in Erin but her married last name threw me off. How did we know each other? We finally traced it back to choir. I was accompanist. Keith came by and gave me a big hug. He was the football player I never met, for jocks and musicians didn’t intersect.
After awhile, we moved upstairs to the 16th floor, to a room given to our reunion group — one with two double beds and the countertops full of alcohol and snacks. There was not much space between and around the beds to maneuvre, but the coziness of it all brought back memories of a high school far far away.
Cathy’s pina colada sent me spinning. I passed around “nat-to beans” from Japan as a way to introduce myself to everyone. Derek the DJ had several announcements to make. Before long, the volume level rose to inaudible levels. A hotel security officer came in to ask us to quiet down or disperse.