Late Saturday afternoon, I was sitting at my computer when I got an instant message from a girl I knew in high school:

• [stacy]: hey keach, are you going to this shindig downtown tonight?
• [me]: which shindig would that be?
• [stacy]: the class reunion that surbhi organized
• [me]: didn’t know about it

Prior to that moment, I wasn’t sure if I would go to my five-year reunion. However, in the face of being asked directly by a good friend, I couldn’t refuse.

The actual reunion was held at the Shout House, which is a dueling piano bar. That was both good and bad. The place had a lot of energy, which was good. Unfortunately, it was extremely loud, making conversation quite difficult, which was bad for a reunion.

Nonetheless, I had a number of good chats. One person, my high school class valedictorian (who also happened to be voted “most likely to come back and teach” in our senior yearbook), was a high school math teacher for a year before quitting to work at Wells Fargo. A surprising number of people had read my blog, but a surprising number weren’t sure that it was actually mine. How could that be?

They didn’t recognize me.

My appearance has changed quite a bit in the past five years (then vs. now). I’ve gone from glasses to contacts, switched to a new hairstyle, changed the way I dress, and lost some weight (some of which has unfortunately started coming back). With the possible exception of House, I doubt anybody at Rose can grasp the full extent of the transformation. People who haven’t seen me in a while, even people who really should know who I am, have a difficult time recognizing me. One of my uncles was such a person. A good friend that I saw at the reunion was another.

The good friend, who also happens to be named Jeff, was standing outside Shout with his girlfriend when I walked up with a group of mutual friends. They all greeted each other with the usual pleasantries, then Jeff stuck out his hand at me, and I shook it. “Hi, I’m Jeff,” he said, as I said “Hey.” His greeting was insipid but sincere; he genuinely seemed to be introducing himself to me. I wasn’t quite sure what to do, and neither were the rest of my friends, for silence befell the group. A couple of seconds went by before somebody said, “It’s Jeff Keacher!” My friend Jeff took a startled step back and with a red face said, “I didn’t recognize you! You look completely different!”

I briefly considered exploiting my inadvertent incognito at the reunion, Groundhog Day-style, but decided against it.

In hindsight, I’m surprised by how little most of my classmates changed in the past five years. With rare exception, they were just as I remembered them. I think I changed for the better.