Monday after the reunion, I found myself feeling sad — even depressed. I think it was for a mix of reasons:
It’s over. After all the planning and anticipation: we’re done. And with that a sense of satisfaction, completion, and pain.
The passage of time. Watching the video from 1975 was very powerful; a connection with this other, sweet time
in my life. Seeing all of us looking so young in that old, black and white video; it was like seeing
ghosts of our former selves.
Corporeal. We are growing older. Our bodies are not the same even if our heads are.
Tired. Too much wine, too much talk, too little sleep; too much time away from OSFO and Teen Spirit, who refused to come to the family picnic.
Distracting. Living in the past for a few days was pretty distracting; it took me away from the here and now.
Re-hash. I can’t believe I said that. That was so stupid. I wish I’d talked to more people. Why didn’t I try to find so and so? Why did I write such a stupid bio for the reunion book? Why, why, why?
Re-Entry. Oh yeah: there’s lots more to my life than the 30th reunion of the Upper West Side Progressive High School that No Longer Exists. I’ve got work to do, bills to pay, children’s lives to pay attention to…
Connection. Connections were made, friendships rekindled. Wondering what will last, what will fade away. Plus the question: how to stay connected to this far flung group of friends united by a school that exists only in our memories.
Affirmation: It meant something. That time in our life. Our need to revisit it. Our regard for one another. It meant something.
I attended the Saturday night gathering. I loved it. It was a blast to see people I had not seen for over 30 years.
I was drawn to the reunion because I wanted to see my former teachers. I now treasure the gifts they gave me when I was a student and I wanted to thank them. What incredible gifts!
Here’s an example. My former science teacher showed me a homemade telescope one day, perhaps one of my last days in high school. I never knew it was possible to build your own telescope. My science teacher had learned the craft of telescope making on the streets of San Francisco, where a famous character, John Dobson, showed the world that one could make very powerful, very cheap telescopes. Today, I love looking at the stars. I have seen remote galaxies and beautiful, distant swirling clouds of gas. My life is has gone better, been a more charmed existence, because I have had the pleasure of peering beyond our own galaxy and been made aware of the basic features of our universe. I will remember those visions of faint, fuzzy objects all my life. I owe this gift to that day he show me what was possible, what one could do with one’s own hands and a few pieces of plywood and glass.
I attended the reunion to see my old teachers. I gave them hugs and thanked them. I had an english teacher who became a dear friend of my mother. It was wonderful to see her. I wish I had more time to talk with her. My history teacher, who now must be at least in his 70s, maybe 80s, still has the world’s most charming smile. I doubt that I appreciated it fully when I was a student. The whole reunion was worth it just to see his smile.
I went to see my teachers, but I ended up staying late talking with former classmates. I loved connecting with them, seeing their faces after 30 years. In 7th grade, a classmate and I used to constantly pass notes to each other. She reminded me how much fun we had with those notes. They made us laugh and laugh.
I could go on and on. I’ll just say one more thing. Everyone, without exception, looked really beautiful and handsome to me. The people there were radiant. What a gorgeous group! I wasn’t expecting that or thinking about it before I attended. How did these folks get to be so good looking? They were scruffy and juvenile in appearance when I saw them last. On that night, they were standing around in suits and dresses, looking like glamorous adults at the opening night of a Broadway show.
It was a delightful event. Thanks to all who help make it happen.