My high school reunion just got canceled. For the second time. And, though no one in the class wants to think so, given advancing age versus lingering virus, what was first being called “postponement” is likely to remain “cancellation.”
One of the organizers sent out the news in an email signed “lovingly.” “Lovingly, Mary Alice.” I’m not sure but I think she was a class officer, maybe a cheerleader. Definitely someone remembered widely, I’d guess, with much affection.
Maybe for an earlier reunion a casual “see ya next year” might have felt appropriate. Or something on the order of “stay well and stay tuned.” But with our high school years pretty distant in the rear view mirror , the tenderness of “lovingly” feels exactly right.
Tenderness, an idea I’ve thought and written about, feels totally at odds with what’s in the air around us, virally, societally, where things feel harsh and unsettled. That quality of loving acceptance, forgiveness, drawing near. It’s what feels comforting right now. It’s what I want and what I had been looking forward to at this reunion.
Early on, school reunions can feel a little show-offy. Look how well I’ve done, look at what I’ve accomplished in the 5, 10, 25 years since you last saw me. Yes, since YOU saw ME—those early ones may be a little more about that. But later, later if we’re get the chance, it’s about MY seeing YOU, and especially this year, checking in on how YOU are, all of you, the close friends, the ones I didn’t know so well, the ones whose names ring only distant bells. We share so much of who we are and I care about all of you.
Those later reunions are for recognizing that much of what passes for accomplishment can be laid at the doorstep of dumb luck. When we gather in those years, it is in gratitude at our good fortune.
And now it’s cancelled. Here we are again, after the hesitant , optimistic tip-toeing out in May and June, retreating again. We’re ordering a new supply of masks, crossing out dates on the calendar. And this time, instead of shock and determination, it feels a little more poignant especially when we cancel the occasions we’re not sure will ever happen. Now we are trying to set up a Zoom gathering, sharing hellos on Facebook. We’re thinking of who we’re not going to be seeing after all and worrying about who hasn’t been heard from. We’re remembering times we haven’t thought about in years, that added up to what our lives became.
Yes. “Lovingly.”