Community is unmatched

To the editor:

I cried in the shower today. I just had my 20-year class reunion. Time flies, whether you’re having fun or not. 

I asked my mom if I could borrow a necklace for the party and she obliged. I was sorting through her jewelry box and came upon my class ring. Perfect timing. I wore it to the party.

I messed up the name of the first person I talked to and felt embarrassed. Is this how the night is going to be? 

A reunion is a mind-boggling blast from the past. We were all the same, yet everything had changed. I felt surrounded by people I knew well, but at the same time, didn’t know at all, not really. Boys I had crushes on, some I still do, girls I was envious of, some I used to tell my most private thoughts. 

The comfort level was different compared to 10 years ago, and definitely different compared to 20 years ago. More self-assured, maybe a little richer, hopefully a little wiser. We have ourselves more figured out now. We feel more comfortable in our own skins.

There were three at the party who had never moved away. I pretty much have only moved away. This place still feels like home to me, even though I just visit about once a month. How deep do the roots feel to someone who has been here since day one? 

We had delicious food from Mrs. P’s. It was the lunchroom in the commons all over again — who sits with whom, who’s the loner, what is the loud table. We found the groups where we felt most at ease and settled in. The little cartons of milk were replaced by bottles of Busch Light. 

As we ate, we caught up with each other, so many questions and listening ears. We spoke of our struggles and successes, reminding me that life isn’t easy for anyone, even though it may appear that way online. 

We traveled down memory lane, talking of teachers and classmates and scholarships.

We spoke of our jobs, or lack thereof. Teachers, servers, directors, farmers, laborers, businesspeople, techies, editors, managers, politicians, engineers, nurses, physical therapists, beauticians, rock stars, nomads, remote workers, stay at home moms. Parents. Adoptive parents. Veterans. Author. 

There was talk of babies, toddlers, tweens, teenagers, adult children. A glib comment about becoming grandparents. 

People opened up about marriage, divorce and fights with cancer. We shared about the loss of family members, and the addition of new partners and new family members. 

We asked about each others’ parents, remembering those steady figures from when they attended our sporting events, performances, productions and parent-teacher conferences.

I recognized phrases and mannerisms from people that had not changed in 20 years. I wondered what they noticed about me. I felt known, seen. I have a wonderful community where I live now, but those relationships are new compared to these. 

I stood with my old group of friends and talked about new topics. We had never talked about social media before; it didn’t exist when we used to hang out.

There was so much talk of people who live locally and who didn’t come to the party. We wondered why that was. 

I can respect the desire to not rehash the past. Just so you know, if you weren’t there, we thought about you and you were missed. 

It was OK, because those who wanted to be there were there together and we all made it this far. 

But we didn’t all make it. There was a sign dedicated to those who had passed away. Way too many people were on that little sign.

We laughed, hugged and said our goodbyes. There wasn’t enough time to say everything that needed to be said to everybody. I should have taken more pictures. 

I cried in the shower today, but not because I feel old. The level of generosity and kindness I experienced at the party is unmatched. 

Someone at the party asked me why I moved back from California, and I looked around the room and answered, “this.” 

Julie (Sours) Bruder

Goshen