Vail Daily Editor Don Rogers: A weekend’s time travel to back in the day
Vail, CO, Colorado
We were talking about the old days. I was starting on a story about my wife explaining to me that yeah, her body wasn’t exactly the same as when we met, but, um, neither was mine.
“She couldn’t get both of her hands around my biceps,” I said. “Now … “
A college classmate frowned. “You were in great shape, then,” he said carefully. “But I don’t remember arms like that. You were really
Lesson No. 1: Those whoppers we tell our friends today don’t fly at college reunions. The old friends were there and remember. Forgive, certainly, but remember.
My wife and I drove to California for this moment and lots of others. My laugh muscles still are sore.
We finally made a College of the Redwoods reunion! A hard core of classmates have camped annually together each year.
We have had poor excuses for missing them: living too far away, our school years while the kids were growing up conflicting with the getaway dates, work in the way, that sort of thing.
Decades slipped by. My eldest, now firmly a part of this group, too, already is older than we were after our college days together had passed. Some classmates I’ve kept up with, and some I haven’t seen in more than 30 years. No matter. We all picked up where we had left off.
Memories, you know. Give it a little time, a little tequila, and we’re back in the day. In this case, we’re talking Eureka, Calif., the dorms, stuff I ain’t telling you about here, that intense but short period when we forged our adult lives in ways we never approach again.
That must be it. Nearly all of my closest classmates were there. My dorm roommate. Apartment roommate and conscience forever, with our other roommate absent this time, the bum. The friend who introduced my wife and me to each other so long ago and then nudged us rather firmly to make sure our union would stick. And others I’ve seen sporadically or not at all since we all moved on from CR.
You know how this goes, the dislocation of time and age between today and then. We’re essentially the same inside. Perhaps more mature. Perhaps, I mused as the last one by the fire after everyone had gone to bed. Perhaps some of us not so much.
We hear how we’re largely formed by age 4. I’m not so sure. I think these people, these old lightweights this night, had quite a bit more to do with what I became than that.
It worked out this year that we could make the reunion. I’m grateful. I loved seeing them again.
And I wonder, really, what took so long.