The 40th reunion weekend for the Monta Vista High School graduating class of 1986 took place the final weekend in July. Go, Matadors! Indeed, I was one of the “Retired Matadors” (as my dear friend Karen Kwan dubbed us) who had long planned on going to all the festivities arranged by our class Social Manager, Laura Campagna BeBeau. This was, I think, the 8th reunion Laura had planned for our class. Did she know when she ran for class office that the responsibility it brought would be lifelong?
My wife had always planned to accompany me, and, at times, was more enthusiastic about the prospect of attending the reunion than either I, or my wingman, Mike Stewart (“The Stew”). Or am I his wingman? To be honest, I think we toss that ball back and forth pretty well. At any rate, because of Lily’s enthusiasm and because she knew that we had a long, and possibly arduous drive ahead of us to Cupertino the day of the reunion’s first event, she was surprised that I decided to attend a concert at the Greek Theatre the night prior. More than that, she questioned the wisdom of my decision. I realized, however, that I had no choice but attend the concert, no matter how late it meant I would be out, nor how sluggish I might be as a result the next morning.
Earlier in the week, I had asked my colleagues, Dean Haglund and Jon Lawlor, on our almost weekly “The Art Life” podcast, exactly how I should be approaching the forthcoming festivities. The podcast was born out of weekly meetings we would have (usually via Zoom), where we would hold each other’s feet to the fire in the pursuit of creating art that is filled with life, while also learning how to live more artfully. It struck me that I should open myself fully to the significance of such a milestone event as a 40th reunion, but I was perplexed as to how best to do this. Dean reminded me of the importance of approaching it as a ritual. 40 is, after all, a number that holds great significance in a wide variety of spiritual traditions and wisdom schools. It’s a powerful number. In the past, usually at this very time of year, I have undertaken forty-day rituals (such as going into silence, or making walking my only form of transportation). Following our discussion, I settled upon the intention of coming away with 40 observations from the 40th reunion and sharing them through this format.
The observations actually began before the reunion …
1) My first observation was that I had to go to the Greek the night before Lily and my road trip to Cupertino because the concert was the actual start of my 40th reunion ritual (even if it was an unofficial beginning). Boasting a lineup of Modern English, English Beat, Wang Chung and Howard Jones, I knew the event would fully transport me back to those halcyon 1980s days (and nights) of my youth. Musically, it was an adventurous era. It felt right to celebrate that adventurousness at the start of my personal journey (and before the actual journey).
2) Lifelong local and fellow UCLA alum Dan “The Man” Tynan accompanied me to the concert and told me about his 40th high school reunion. He shared with me that name tags had been provided containing each attendee’s senior portrait. According to Dan, this made things awful because everyone had to take out reading glasses, move close and lean forward to the see the photos clearly. Then, straightening up, they would remove their glasses and back up an appropriate distance to take in the person’s face. “To what end?” I wondered. Just so that you might be able to say, “Oh, yeah! I remember now. We had Driver’s Ed together!” What kind of conversation starter is that? Better would be not recognizing the person at all. After all, then you are meeting someone new and everything becomes possible again. Why not enjoy meeting someone new? Fortunately, the events at my reunion would have no such name tags.
3) Appropriately enough, Debra Matlock and her husband, Brad Grossman, attended the concert as well. One of the best photos in my senior yearbook is of “Debbie” (as apparently she chose to go by back then), in her mascot costume as THE Monta Vista Matador. Deb was class of 1987 and we weren’t close back then, but she is certainly one of a handful of Monta Vista alums most important to me now. Her presence in my life is such that it always makes me feel grateful for where I grew up, where I went to school, and when. So, as we briefly danced together in the aisle to one of the many 80s standards performed that night, it felt both a wonderful celebration of where we live now, and of our shared past of four decades ago and 340 miles north. It would also prove to be foreshadowing that at least one other non-class of 1986 alum would play a major role in my weekend ritual.
4) Was I ever really a Wang Chung fan? Who can answer that one off the top of their head? Their fans, I suppose. Still, I found myself quite impressed by their set. They produced a great sound at the Greek and for a while they performed a solid rendition of the Clash’s “Should I Stay or Should I Go”, that is until they changed the refrain to “should I Wang or should I Chung?” I was both delighted by this change and ashamed of enjoying it in equal measure. Ever since childhood, I had wanted to live in Los Angeles. As my senior year of high school began, my mindset was “U.C.L.A. or nowhere” for college. In November, as I was preparing my college application, Wang Chung’s “To Live and Die in L.A.” hit the airwaves. The title track to a William Friedkin movie I have repeatedly tried to enjoy (without success), the song effectively kept my desire to, at least, live in L.A. at fever pitch. 40 years later, I’m still here. And Wang Chung is still here. They no doubt would have played the song regardless of whether I attended, but I know they played it for me that night.
5) So many moments of lyrics from the aforementioned bands hold meaning. I mean, “I made a pilgrimage to save this human’s race/Never comprehending the race had long gone by” from Modern English’s “I Melt With You” hits me harder with each passing year. What really moved me, however, was how often Dan would lean over to tell me that his daughter, Kiki, “loves that line” in reference to myriad songs performed by the various artists. Kiki is just about to begin her freshman year at Marshall High School and without knowing it, she became an indelible part of my 40th high school reunion. Though it was far from my favorite song to be performed that night, coming as it did on the eve of a time-travelling expedition to my (almost distant) past, I was particularly struck by the lyrics to the HoJo (Howard Jones, of course) song “Life in One Day …”
The old man said to meSaid don’t always take life so seriouslyPlay the fluteAnd dance and sing your song
I am that old man now! And I am finally heeding the song’s advice (maybe that’s why it has taken me so long to become this young).
Try and enjoy the here and nowThe future will take care of itself somehowThe grass is never greener over there
That struck me as quite the important attitude for enjoying a reunion weekend, for being in my body, and for being grateful for whatever would come forward.
6) Travel out of town did, indeed, prove to be tortuous the next day. We finally hit the road at 11:45 am. There was a mixer starting at 6 pm that evening. I needed at least 5 hours and 15 minutes to make the drive, if I was doing it fast, with a minimum of time spent stopping. Unfortunately, just getting out of town was almost impossible. What should have taken an hour and a quarter took two hours. I was close to giving up on the trip before even reaching Magic Mountain! We were hurting and racing the clock the rest of the way. Fortunately we made it to my pal Yoshi’s house (where we were staying) with enough time for me to freshen up before The Stew collected me. One hilarious element of our day was that the Stew had dropped by early that morning to deliver a stool for the vanity table we had moved into my place the day prior and to drop off a package too heavy for him to bring on his flight to SFO. He flew up to S.F., rented a car, and drove to his folks’ place in Cupertino. When he arrived at Yoshi’s in the rental car, I gave him back the package that I had driven up. On Sunday, The Stew drove the package down to his place in Santa Barbara. Those are some ridiculous supply lines! Even OnTrac has better delivery logistics (if barely).
The observations continued throughout the Friday night mixer …
7) I was a bit overwhelmed upon arrival at the mixer. I found myself needing to stay shoulder-to-shoulder with The Stew, at least metaphorically. There were certain people I kept in touch with and had seen fairly regularly, but not many. There were others I recognized and said quick hellos to, but I was not on my game and being not on my game was unnerving. I have become someone who tends to enjoy mixers. It’s not that being plunged into a room full of people I may not know, or barely remember, comes without nervousness, but I find the experience rather exhilarating. It takes a certain amount of energy and a commitment to enjoying myself, as well as my determination that anyone who encounters me will find me to be a friend, if that’s what they want. So, why was I overwhelmed, nervous even, in speaking to people with whom there was a built-in history and knowledge? I was grateful to people like Kelly Morphy and Kristen Lewis, who seemed quite comfortable in striking up conversation and in being themselves, and yet their seeming comfort did not transfer to me. It wasn’t until I sat in a corner outside and was able to engage in a conversation I found truly meaningful that I started to feel myself again. As I write this, I have this nagging feeling that my showing for much of this event was something of a failure.
8) The venue for the mixer was Jake’s of Saratoga, the birthplace of Jake’s pizza, founded in 1984 in the midst of my high school years, though I never really frequented the spot until well past high school. Is the pizza good? I don’t know. But I did have a funny experience there while up north dealing with my late sister’s storage pods. It was a task that would require multiple trips, much help, a decent amount of emotional support, and though the pods were located in Manteca, I stayed with Yoshi in Saratoga, because quite frankly, I couldn’t bear being alone with my thoughts in a hotel room. Still, after one particularly grueling and depressing day spent going through my sister’s things, I needed to decompress before returning to Yoshi’s place. So, I sat belly to the bar at Jake’s imbibing a couple Piney the Elders, a beer I had never before tried. Funny enough, I saw Monta Vista Class of ’86 grad Jerome Pereira holding court that night. I said nothing to him. I was far from in the mood for small talk. I laughed at a thought, though, and when the bartender inquired, I shared with him that when I used to come in there, I was too young to drink. And now, I was too old to eat pizza.
9) The conversation that grounded me the night of the mixer occurred on the patio at Jake’s. I sat down next to David Nakamura. He was, without a doubt, one of the people I most wanted to see reunion weekend. I can’t even guess how long it had been since we had seen each other, but back in high school there was no one who made me laugh more. And there was no one who could be more of a bad influence on me in a class. I shared this fact with him and he seemed to take particular delight in my belief that he might say very much the same thing about me. “Naka” was always smart and super cool looking. From what I could tell, time has only increased both these attributes. Like me, he married at a “veteran” age and he eschewed having kids. He does have cats, though, and we agreed that’s enough! He made a particular point to compliment my essays and especially the vulnerability I have been willing to share therein. Admiring someone’s willingness to be vulnerable is one hell of a good basis for a friendship. I know this from experience. Ben Deeb, a fellow member of the Los Feliz Neighborhood Council Cultural Affairs Committee reached out to me after I had hosted the live “Viva Los Feliz: A More Perfect Union” in order to praise me for the raw vulnerability I showed. It was, as Bogie would say, “the start of a beautiful friendship”. Coming as it did from a writer I greatly admire, the compliment has served as constant motivation in my work. For a similar compliment to be delivered by someone who knew me well during our adolescence, well, suffice it to say it erased my feelings of overwhelm and restored me to the best parts of myself, an effect that would remain throughout the rest of the reunion festivities. Imagine the world if men could regularly muster the strength and courage to acknowledge and applaud another man’s vulnerability. What might be possible? All I can say is that these expressions always inspire me greatly.
10) Stacy Foster was always a cheerleader, and not just for the school. She always liked me, encouraged me, cheered me on, and honestly I don’t know why I deserved it. We have had quite a few very good conversations through the years, but for the first time, on the patio at Jake’s we discussed our shared Norwegian heritage. We compared notes on our respective trips to Norway. We laughed about Norwegian immigrants’ historic desire to “ice farm” in Minnesota. We got warm all over expressing the feelings of pride and joy we took in Team Norway’s performance in the recent World Cup (Erling Haaland, Viking forever!).
11) I remembered Todd White from high school and we had seen each other at various reunions through the years. At the mixer, he talked about his long-undiagnosed ADHD and how he would show up to class and exclaim, “We had homework?!” and I remembered that immediately. He is now a school teacher and it strikes me that countless students are quite fortunate that he both has been diagnosed AND had to go through all those years undiagnosed, for he, uniquely, can understand the frustration so many kids must be experiencing, and what their parents must be experiencing as well. Intimacy is our birthright, yet it requires the incredibly challenging work of exploring honestly, without shame, the good, the bad, and the so-called ugly of our makeup. A whole lot of people in Colorado, again, are quite fortunate to have Todd White as a resource to help guide them through such exploration.
12) “KZPL” were the call letters for a very real yet nonexistent, radio station. Kevin Zis and I were KZPL. Kevin was my first comedy partner, and the fictitious radio station was, I suppose, our version of SCTV, a show that we would stay up way too late during elementary school sleepovers to enjoy. Never broadcast, but recorded to audiocassette, these radio shows of ours were, without a doubt, preparation for my past twenty years of podcasting! Lily even has a vintage t-shirt advertising our work. I tried to use Kevin as a touchstone the night of the mixer, but he was too much of a social butterfly for me to rely on him in this way. He was everywhere. He was nowhere. He was so social! I kept calling him the “host of the mixer”. Afterwards, in the parking lot, he finally yelled, “If I’m so social, how come I never had a girlfriend?” I told him it was probably because his wife would not approve! Speaking of his wife, Anne, when the subject of Lily’s cancer treatments came up I told Kevin that I owe her a thank you card, for Anne sharing her own story of survival with me was one of the first times I allowed myself to think, “Everything is going to be okay.”
By the time Saturday morning rolled around, I was truly eager to learn what observations the planned tour of our old high school campus might provide …
13) I immediately found it strange that none of us participating in the tour could remember who our high school principal was and yet the current principal (Ben Clausnitzer) was giving us a tour of our old campus (and he was doing so in the middle of summer). For what it’s worth, the old senior year El Valedor (our yearbook) reveals that Mr. (Richard) McElveny was our principal, but if you had said, “Janine Stark”, I would have accepted that answer as well seeing as how she had been the principal for the first three years the Class of 1986 had been attending Monta Vista High School. By the way, Dick McElveny acutally wrote a note in my senior yearbook, so at one point, getting his signature really mattered to me, though clearly it didn’t matter so much to me that I would commit to memory the fact that he had been principal.
14) In an “on air” production meeting about how my co-host, Dean, and I should commemorate the 1,000th episode of our free, weekly podcast, Chillpak Hollywood Hour, the idea of a fake time capsule reveal was suggested. It was not a suggestion that we decided to use. It was, however, the basis for a running gag I paid off to great effect during the tour of Monta Vista High School. At one point, Principal Clausnitzer asked if there were any questions. Some hands went up, but I’m not in school any more, so I just called out, “When do we get to dig up the time capsule?” There were a lot of laughs. He couldn’t be sure I was joking, however (a failing common to school administrators I have encountered). Hesitantly he admitted he didn’t know about the time capsule and asked where it was located, and I somewhat haltingly answered, “Over by the old wood shop … where I buried it late last night.” I had work shopped the gag at the mixer the night prior, and was thrilled that it utterly killed on the tour. It occurs to me that the best way of describing this observation #14 is that it is an observation about me being funny!
15) One change (since my days on campus) is that there are hydration stations everywhere. We had terrifying water fountains, but the truth is, when I was young, hydration was not stressed. I am sure I spent most of my adolescence dehydrated. I never drank water in high school. That’s an exaggeration, of course. In fact, I do remember once sipping from a fountain, but I can assure you the total amount of times I drank water while at school, during my four years there, was less than two. I would have a soda at lunch, most likely a Dr. Pepper, and by the time I got home, I would usually need a nap. No doubt, again, from dehydration! These kids today have it too easy.
16) When the tour took us past the school’s pool, I couldn’t help but snap a photo and text it to Karen Kwan (George). I knew I would be seeing her later in the day, but as she was unable to attend the tour, I could not resist reaching out immediately. She laughed at the image (at least that’s what her iPhone message told me her reaction was), and replied, “That’s my worst high school memory.” I knew this to be fact and would not dream of sharing the grisly details (unless you buy me a cocktail – that might get it out of me).
I replied, “Right. But the board is gone! No high diving board any more. Liability issue. Because of you??” Did anyone even think of carrying liability insurance in the 1980s? Now, of course, the need for it is brought up everywhere, for all occasions. It’s why we can’t have nice things.
A few years back, I was co-producing and editing a television series about the hidden history of the southern California community Huntington Beach. One episode we made was never aired. It dealt with the long-since closed “Adventure Playground”. Built in the bottom of a quarry pit, the playground consisted of several acres with a pond, tree houses, a “mud park”, rafts, rope climbing, scrap wood, rusted nails, and abandoned tools for building. Of course, the liability issues presented by this “Lord of the Flies” locale would force its closure. What’s more, though, those liability issues forced the powers-that-be from allowing us to air the show we had made. I know for a fact some scary things happened in that playground, but nothing as terrifying as what happened to Karen at the Monta Vista pool.
17) Lily accompanied The Stew and I on the tour and I was unaware of how popular she was becoming with my fellow graduates until we paused for a group photo under the football and track (and soccer) stadium sign. Understandably, she decided not to be a part of the picture. She stood off to the side of the photographer, until several people immediately started calling out for her to be in the shot! I honestly didn’t even know how some of these people had met her and, quite frankly, I didn’t even know who some of these people were. As Lily eagerly joined the fun and set about finding a good spot, I added my voice to the refrain, and she ended up joining me in the picture.
18) Some of the most fun I remember having at our 20th reunion was the time I got to spend with Lisa Pastor. After a brief exchange of pleasantries the night prior at Jake’s, the tour gave us a chance to actually reconnect. She was interested in learning about my podcasts, and more than gently urged us to bring them onto YouTube. She is far from the first person to suggest this. Many people consume their podcasts on that platform. I prefer my shows to be audio only. It’s how I listen to podcasts, and having seen myself on Zoom, the phrase “face for radio” definitely comes to mind. At one point, she said I remind her of “Chandler”, her favorite character from Friends. I was at a loss as I never watched that and have never seen an episode. Finally, troubled by something I vaguely remembered, I asked, “Is that actor … No longer with us?” She confirmed that I was thinking of the right person. The mood now somber, she did not bring up this comparison again. While we were in the old gym that would hold not only our basketball games, but also assemblies for our entire school, Lily pointed and asked, “Who’s the one doing the splits?” It was Lisa Pastor. “She’s my favorite!” Lily exclaimed.
19) I had forgotten that our school had an auto shop, but once inside the building that had housed it, I was flooded with memories of visiting my sister there when she had been a high school student, and I was still a young boy. Looking back, it was pretty cool to go to school in an area, and at a time, where we could have an auto shop, a wood shop and a state of the art computer lab and programming classes. Now, of course, the auto shop has been converted into a robotics lab because, apparently, in the future, only robots will be fixing cars. And driving them. As for the wood shop, it is a thing of the past, too. Heck, I could have put the wood shop into the time capsule I claimed was buried beside it!
20) During an early part of the tour, Chris Gregson said a warm hello and I offered a quick handclasp. Later, when we found ourselves beside him, I introduced Lily to him. As we entered the music building, I listened to their conversation. Always a great guy, Chris had incredibly kind things to say about what a talented writer I was even in my school days. I hadn’t intended to eavesdrop, but the sound of his voice is incredibly pleasing. Seriously, you want to wrap yourself in it. Later that night, at the main event, we would have a very lovely talk, so lovely, in fact, I found myself wondering, “Why didn’t we ever hang out?”
21) The tour ended in the theater, or as I like to think of it, the house that I built! A lot of attention turned towards me as people shared memories of my having been in school productions and having hosted talent shows. Of all the shows I have ever hosted, one of my favorite memories was getting to riff with The Stew during the talent show our senior year. He served as my unseen, “voice of God” announcer while securely ensconced inside the tech booth in the back of the auditorium. No one in attendance could possibly tell that he was nervous as hell, and our interplay set the template for the kinds of on-stage experiences I have sought out ever since. Long before Cupertino became known worldwide as the birthplace of Apple Computers (and Silicon Valley more broadly), it was home to the landmark Flint Center on the campus of De Anza College. It was a 2,400 seat venue that welcomed an impressive array of performers and presenters through it’s almost five decades in operation. It was demolished in 2025, and though De Anza does have a supposed state-of-the-art 400-seat performance space, I feel like the Monta Vista auditorium could play an important community role. The theater is certainly in need of some loving, if only to make it a suitable center of activity for the school’s student body. With the proper leadership, however, that venerable auditorium could just become a town hall, of sorts, for the larger community.
22) While sitting in the theater soaking it in, and while posing for a couple of cute photos with Lily that Kristen Lewis took, I became aware of people saying I should go up and sing a number. I offered (tongue in cheek) to do a “tight ten”, but “sing”? Singing in public held great fear for me for most of my adult life, but of late, especially over the days leading up to the reunion, and then on reunion day itself, the subject of my being a good singer kept coming up. I don’t know what to make of this. I have learned, and accepted, that I can, at times, give a compelling vocal performance, but I still don’t think I can carry a tune unless it comes with two handles. Suffice it to say, I had no plans to participate in karaoke that night at the main event, as opposed to Lily, who did have big plans for me to do just that. This is not a bit of foreshadowing, however. We would leave the main event before, I think, anyone took advantage of the karaoke opportunity presented.
23) After the tour, our plan was to head back to Yoshi’s house in Saratoga, to swim and relax, and rest up before heading to Karen’s childhood home where she and her mother were hosting a pre-party for Karen’s “Retired Matadors”. On our way, we went through my old neighborhood, and headed down Columbus Avenue, the street on which I grew up. I was in the process of showing where the Cali homestead once was. Starting with their purchase of nine acres in 1928, the Cali brothers helped to build what would become Cupertino. I was in the midst of my history lesson as we passed my childhood home and Lily interrupted by saying, “The house is open!” I thought she meant there was an open house going on. Instead, as I threw the car in reverse and pulled up to the curb, I saw what she meant. The front door was wide open, no one was visible, and things looked kind of empty. Was it being prepared for sale? We got out and walked up the front path and could hear, and smell, the telltale signs that a massive cleaning operation was underway. I knocked on the door and called out. A young cleaning woman looked at me from down a hall that led to the bedrooms and obviously saw me, but went right back to her work, paying no attention. I took a step inside onto the large, shiny, black tiles of the entry hall floor. Memories came flooding back, of playing on that floor. It was the best place to play because the tiles always remained cool and because my pets all were eager to spread out on the floor beside me. It was on that tiled floor where I would wrap myself around my father’s leg in a futile effort to prevent him from leaving. He traveled a great deal, and I always hated to see him go. I looked around and saw some changes, but I really didn’t feel like crossing the threshold and investigating. I got to look inside and I had connected with the entry hall. That was enough.
In the front yard, Lily had me pose for a picture she hoped would match one of me from high school that she had been given. Then, we got back in the car and headed on our way. A few doors down from my childhood home, I made sure to point out Ted Mirch’s house. I reminded Lily that Ted was a childhood friend who had attended the pre-release screening of our film The Lady Killers in San Leandro (at the historic Bal Theatre). He brought his wife, Tracie, who is a spectacular person, and it was an absolute blast catching up with him. Since then, we have kept in touch via social media, but I have longed for an opportunity to see each other in person again. Spoiler alert: This IS a bit of foreshadowing …
END OF PART ONE
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