Music of Yore

Herself speaks.

We have been to the college Reunion.  And truthfully, it was lovely. 

The campus is green, and -- though quite chock full of construction, as well as of new and unrecognizable buildings, too -- seems like such a beautiful and motivational place to learn.  Squirrels. Birds. Trees. Interesting artworks incorporated into the landscape in a thoughtful and meaningful way. Old buildings with arches and brickwork, new buildings like Japanese lanterns, other buildings like futuristic laboratories. Magnificent. 

So many people. Nothing in common, except the place. And for a few days, that was enough. 

We hung out with a group of familiar people from The Olden Days, and it was Nice: I did not feel Othered. I felt, momentarily, as if I Belonged. As if, given enough time, I could build an actual community with these people.  And it was heartwarming and sad, because I do not have these People where I live now, and I only see them once every five years. I wish for Community, for more than one reunion weekend. 

The conversations were meaningful -- pleasantries were quickly disposed of, and we all moved immediately into depth of topic, with substance and weight. It was gratifying.  

One thing in particular that I noticed immediately: how much I have missed having conversations with women who are intellectual equals. 

(That sounds pretentious; it is not intended to be. I work primarily with men. My complex conversations outside of work -- which are weirdly few -- are mostly either with Beloved Husband or Cherished Friend. I don't ordinarily talk with women. And I've missed it. It's more evident than ever before that I need to find the time to make some local female friends. Not because there is a deficit in my current conversational partners, but in order to enrich my life.)

The only tricky part to the reunions, is the photos. The school colors and reunion garb are not particularly flattering, and it's clear from many of the pictures that it's quite difficult for me to dress a G/H cup in a way that doesn't make me look like Quite Chunky.  (How do I add a waist to a T shirt? Hmmm.) Add to that the the gleeful smile on my face, and I tend to look like a Big Fat Slightly Deranged Chipmunk. Oh, dear. That's hard to swallow. I do have some carefully curated photos of myself with Beloved Husband that I can tolerate (let's angle just so and crop out cleavage), but the group shots are uniquely unflattering on the whole. And I feel sad all over again that the me that was tolerably cute in college has disappeared entirely. 

Last F*ckable Day, definitely past. 

I also miss the me that was fun, whimsical, and a little bit flirty. She is buried sooooooo deep down inside. It is so hard to draw her out. And at this point, she is not sure that anyone wants to spend time with her any more. Well, maybe I still do. That might be enough reason take her by the hand. 

----

The last morning, before going to the airport, Beloved Husband and I took one last walk around campus. In a remote corner, we found a piano. I didn't have a whole piece memorized, but I could play a few bars. It sounded a bit loud, unfamiliar in the empty hall.  I think I'll practice the piano more, in case we have a chance next time to find a piano again. 

What lessons should we take from reunions?

1. Staying in the moment is vital to happiness.  Not thinking back to the hardships of college, not looking ahead to other things, but existing in the moment of togetherness, made the reunion both special and meaningful. 

2.  We are more valuable than we realize. I think about the small lurch of happiness I felt each time I recognized an old classmate with whom I had positive interactions some thirty-five years ago, and if even a portion of those people felt a little bit of that same lurch when they saw me, then my existence might make the world a tiny bit better. I'll take that. 

3. It is up to me to try to build my own community.  If I can rekindle temporary community in a weekend with people I have seen only one other time, five years ago, in the past thirty-five years, surely I can make a better effort to build some better community for myself where I live now.  I need to try harder. (Though I need to give myself some grace, too -- these past few years have been hard. One step at a time.) 

I think that is all for now. 

Onward we go.

Hip! Hip!