A reminiscence of
Christmas and Class Reunions
Christmas and Class Reunions have much in common. Both are celebratory, sometimes deeply emotional, and always a remembrance of things past. Both can affect one far beyond the actual experience and both are still magical in many ways.
While I enjoy family at Christmas, it is more the remembering of being a child than of watching the grandchildren that is most vivid—and poignant—to me. As many of you have experienced, some of the moments that bring a smile are seeing ourselves in the little ones—perhaps a facial feature or expression, a turn of phrase, a shrug of a shoulder, or a shared interest. It is particularly flattering (or frightening?) when someone mentions, “She reminds me of you.”
Christmas Eve is my time for reflection, thinking about family Christmases and growing up in Curwensville. I think most of us realized years ago that we had had a safe and loving childhood and we didn’t miss what we didn’t have. We took everything for granted; whatever was, simply was. We anticipated Christmas Day for weeks in advance and thought the day would never arrive. Did anyone actually make a Christmas wish list? Or go to the five and ten to tell Santa what you wanted for Christmas?
In some ways class reunions are similar to the process of Christmas. We anticipate the day and we have expectations and uncertainties—even after all these years. And while we are now more comfortable with one another (aren’t we?), we still hope we are not being misunderstood. And later, on the way home, we review and reflect—just like on Christmas Eve or the day after Christmas.
This past summer following our now annual class reunion my thoughts kept going through the hours of each event, recalling specifically where we were and what we were doing or talking about, almost minute by minute. I particularly relished the addition special time some of us had together just laughing and saying things we should have said (but couldn’t) to each other in high school. It was just so comfortable and real to be with good friends with no barriers and no discernible awkward moments. Who needed stars, anyhow?
I also found myself smiling laughing as I thought of the picnic Saturday afternoon in 100 degree heat. In particular there was Bob who always flirts with his complimentary, thinly veiled hints, but this year there was more a tinge of poignant regret or maybe it just made me realize how few years we all had left to gather together. Other special thoughts go to John E, regaling us with stories; John R, dressed in a gray shirt and pink tie (a classic in our class colors); Jim S., arriving in a restored 1956 Chevrolet; and dear Karen who brought our class flower in our class colors for the table.
There were very few awkward moments—just the usual “oops, I didn’t know you had remarried,” along with the self-righteous indignation of one who said she didn’t talk to people who used email…. Three of us there that afternoon were of four girls who had palled around together since forever, having met as toddlers at the same Sunday School—Ellen, Donna, and Judi, with Edie the only one missing, too many miles away. And all of this very similar to the personal emotions we encounter after the rest of the family goes home the day after Christmas. That is when I most miss the magic.
………………………………………….
No comments:
Post a Comment