The lyrics from Bookends always bring me to tears. I know I will expose myself as tragically unhip when I say that Simon & Garfunkel provided the soundtrack to much of my junior and senior high school years. This song comes to mind often these days.
As I face my 40th high school reunion, I'm revisiting a question that was posed to me a few years ago when I first joined Facebook. Back then, I was telling a friend how excited I was to communicate with someone from "back in the day."
"Why do you even care about those people," was her question. "You haven't heard from them in years." I gave this considerable thought. True, I haven't spoken to many classmates in 30 years or more, but for me, my teen life was a time of such heightened emotions (as is true for many people, I think). Everything back then was such a big deal. And I've been blessed (or cursed) with a keen memory. All the high drama - good and bad - was part of what shaped who I am today. The various players in those theatrics are part of my history, and thus, part of me.
But as a lifelong writer, I realized a whole different dimension to the question. As most writers do, I think of life as a series of stories. For every kid I hung out with back then, the old question "whatever happened to ..." represents an unfinished tale and I want to know the ending!
The past year has added an even deeper meaning to this question. During the dark days I spent recovering from my cancer surgery, when I posted on Caring Bridge for what I believed would be a small circle of people currently in my life, old high school friends suddenly appeared out of the woodwork to provide some of the most comforting support and insightful wisdom.
And here's the thing I love most about reconnecting with people on Facebook and through Caring Bridge: Back in those days (the early 70's), everybody was labeled. There were the smart kids, the snobs, the sluts, the dorks (though we called them "queer" back then), the jocks, the hippies, and the "hoods" (the kids who were always getting in trouble).
Fast forward forty years: NONE of those labels make a shit of difference now. The girl who was labeled a "slut" back then is a pediatrician married to another doctor with two kids in college. The "queer" dork who never had a date is happily married with a grandchild on the way. The snob has become a great humanitarian. The smart kid didn't bother to get anything more than a B.A. and is happily working in a low-paying job for a nonprofit group. The former "hood" (you know, the one you just knew would become a criminal) is now a Wall Street executive - oh, well - maybe we could have expected that! (Sorry, I couldn't help myself ... )
These examples are fictional, of course, but my point is - I can't think of a single person I've reconnected with who let themselves be defined by their high school label. Most people grew up and built themselves wonderful lives, and I think that is absolutely amazing.
So as I approach my reunion and remember those days when I listened to Bookends on a daily basis, I realize that with the incredible gift of the internet, Paul Simon's final lyrics no longer hold true.
Time it was and what a time it was, it was
A time of innocence, a time of confidences.
Long ago, it must be, I have a photograph
Preserve your memories, they're all that's left you ...
How lucky we are that our memories are not all that's left us. We are blessed to have so many wonderful reconnections. And yet, somehow, that song still makes me cry.
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