Collapsing Time

I’ve known these two for more than six decades - and they haven’t changed a bit!

I’ve worked with a group of brilliant networking scientists – some of whom actually were engaged in the background of internet development – who still speak with wonder at the collapse of distance and time brought on by the launch of the world wide web. Sure. The Internet did suddenly provide instantaneous links with humans anywhere on the globe – regardless of the time or space between.

But if you really want to experience the collapse of time and space, work with a bunch of high school friends on a 50-year high school reunion. Time peels away and we are all suddenly back in the halls of Malabar with all of the teenaged angst we experienced in the 1970s.

One person in our group, who can count, figured out last fall that our 50th was going to happen this year and gosh, wouldn’t it be nice to plan something special?

As that person in the gang who works most often with Google spreadsheets and Zoom meetings, I was drafted to keep us relatively organized. Despite my best efforts – including a hip replacement and follow-up Achilles snap – I failed to get out of the work. (Those McConnell twins are ruthless!)

We started planning last fall with a couple of zooms where we spent most of our time in a “do you remember…” fog of laughter. We finally got to planning and tried out a couple of SurveyMonkeys to see if we could figure out the best timing for most, and the general interest in gathering.

Turns out that the mere fact of surviving for 50 years following high school graduation may be enough of a reason to celebrate.

And here we are, less than a month from returning to our hometown and the memories are returning with the RSVPs. When I heard from Pam, I suddenly flashed back to the many hours I spent in the orchestra with only Mr. C separating my violin section from Pam and her cello.

Then there was Sue, who can’t come back, but we went to grade school together too – and that brought back Mrs. Lashey’s fifth grade class and the quilt we all made together. Oh, Rusty Kiser just couldn’t pull his knots through, much to Mrs. Lashey’s chagrin.

These flashbacks are a clear reminder that I still carry my childhood with me. No matter where I go or where we live, I carry Mansfield, my memories, and their impact along with me.

I launched from Mansfield with the singular drive to run away from living in the Midwest with a husband and two children. And here I am, living in Minneapolis with a husband and two grown children – still the Midwest, just slightly north-left of Ohio.

Turns out we are always who we are – and there is truly something comforting in knowing that, despite all of the changes in the 50 years since 1974.