Like It Was Yesterday

I had an unusual experience two night ago. I actually time-traveled. No, I didn't accelerate a sleek silver Delorean up to 88 miles per hour and disappear in burst of bright light. Instead, I was driving a plain white Ford Fiesta to a bar/restaurant in Roseville, Minnesota. While the scenery didn't change the closer I got to my destination, my frame of mind sure did. And why not? I was about to gather with a group of people (many whom I hadn't seen in years) who still burn brightly in my memory.

The older I've gotten, the luckier I know I've become to have met and grown close to this group of people in the fall of 1985. Yes, that long ago. After a quick review of the Cheap Seats archive, I wasn't surprised to discover that I had already written fondly of my first year of college at the University of Minnesota-Morris. Oh well, another one won't hurt, right? 

The reunion was long overdue, but still planned for an entirely unwanted reason. As I mentioned last week, a good friend of ours, Jim Bartness, has recently suffered a stroke. Thirty-four years ago, Jim was our leader, our chief provocateur (Craig, you too), and our guidepost to the question, "How much mischief should I really get myself into?" Our own little WWJD, so to speak. Gathering in his honor was the least we could do, and I can only imagine how pissed he will be when he finds out that he couldn't be there.

As I was driving to the party, I realized the podcast I was listening to wasn't quite right for the occasion I was fast-approaching. A quick swipe or two and I was soon listening to the music of the 1980's. To hell with talk of the Mueller Report and those greedy folks who want to defund the Special Olympics, I was blasting Bon Jovi, The Outfield, Depeche Mode, and Loverboy. And so my time-traveling began. I'd like to believe each of us who gathered for Jim last Friday night had the same experience. Rushing to see each other again, our graying hair fading, the lines on our faces receding, overtaken by a youthful exuberance that made our hearts collectively skip a beat or two. 

The reality of the gathering didn't disappoint. A communal sense of gratitude hovered over the entire evening—a dozen people pleased and happy to have each other in their shared memories. Time, as it so often does, softened our reminisces, and we found only joy and laughter in the foibles of our youth.

And despite having now lived nearly another two-thirds of our lives removed from those intensely felt days, we were much like those 18 year-old kids who met each other in the common room of a small dormitory so long ago: no judgment, only acceptance. We didn't know anything then, only that we were all in the same boat. Thirty-four years later on a happy Friday night, we know much, much more, but to no one's surprise we've all learned through life's ups and downs that we're all still in that same boat. More weathered for sure, but much more seaworthy (even if it’s taken on a little water) than that brightly painted one that was cast off into younger, wilder waters decades ago.

Stories of Jim and our youthful shenanigans littered the evening, but were equally dosed with questions about kids, health scares, and work. There was no one-upmanship, no bragging, no talk of cars or houses or bank accounts. Life had taught each of us how unimportant and fleeting each of those things are. 

Perhaps that's what reunions are for, to remind us that much of life is such a silly chase after things that no longer matter and never did. Because as I was driving to see these people I didn't feel any dread or embarrassment. I knew I wouldn't be judged or compared, only welcomed and accepted. They would be as glad to see me as I was to see them. After acknowledging that truth, I dove into the evening—talking, laughing and connecting with people I had collectively loved long ago... just like it was yesterday.

p.s. Jim is fighting and improving and we are all counting on him to attend another reunion of ours and loudly shout, "Holy shit am I glad there weren't cell phones when we were in college! I'd still be in jail!"