Looking over the photos of the weekend, I have a soundtrack in my head of “Pomp and Circumstance” mixed with, oh, pick an early 90s song, “Mr. Wendell?” Reunions are revered by some, reviled by others, but good, bad or lovely, they provide an unrivaled experience—to go back to a place that knew you before you were the person you are today, and probably had a hand in shaping that person.
It’s not that you go back and actually do much quality catching up. Even without children hugging my ankles I seemed to be incapable of focusing long enough to have real conversations with any one person, because all the faces in front of me were an irresistible buffet to sample from all weekend long. But the details I heard, astounding triumphs over some of the toughest challenges that life can deliver, made me want to learn more and pick up the phone for that real conversation long before another reunion comes along.
I went to a very old New England (no way, really? you’ll say when you see the photos of brick and ivy) college steeped in history and tradition, and I think it is only now that I understand how much each of us is part of the fabric of the institution. It is our collective experience, our memories and, of course, our photos 🙂 that sustain the traditions, and I feel so lucky to be a part of it.
Thank you, Mom and Dad. I think I am just now beginning to truly appreciate the incredible gift I received that sunny September day in 1989—the opportunity for this experience.
A few of my favorites from the weekend.
Classmates, the rest are up on our class Flickr pool. Enjoy–I did!