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A Road Trip to Yesterday: Deciding to Go
Several months ago, virtually and out of the blue, I received an invitation to a reunion from a high school classmate with whom I did not graduate. It was quite unexpected (since I left after the 9th grade), but surprisingly enough, I found myself intrigued. It is not my custom to reopen closed chapters in my life, but in the months since receiving the invitation, I have warmed to the idea. Not in the least because such a journey would give me the opportunity to visit a place I never expected to see again. This place, in fact, is the genesis to two earlier posts of mine: The Great White-Out of Midway High and River Walk. Of course, there will be no river walk in summer. Alas.
There is a danger in the going, however. The image which I have, real or fantasy, may be lost or irrevocably altered. The rich and fertile ground of memory, perception, and impression that so indelibly mark my understanding of things – particularly my past – may be revealed as veneer, unsubstantiated, phony. To lose the mystery, to have it revealed or to be understood as something else entirely, could poison the well that feeds what remains of my imagination.
Aside: I’m not a writer, but I often wish I were. I relish the exercise of formulating a thought and laboring to fashion it in a manner that makes a concept accessible to others. Yet bridging the gap between formulations that are essentially disposable to those that weave vibrant tapestries of expression is no small feat, and often beyond my reach. I still endeavor to find ways to express that which, in hindsight, may better remain unexpressed. To contemplate the mystery without seeking its naked reveal. To appreciate that which cannot or should not be reduced by the application of language. And while this probably makes sense to no one but me, trust me when I say that I understand the tension.
On the other hand, what I find on this journey might very well reinforce, reinvigorate, and refresh that stagnant wellspring within me. Rather than rip the veneer, it may in fact enhance and deepen the mystery and wonder of it all. New impressions may be formed that indelibly mark my understanding, impressions that may bring something altogether different and revealing, a via positiva to go with the via negativa.
In the end, I have decided to go. Decided to reopen a chapter long closed, motivated by … curiosity. To see the places and people I last saw in 1986, and to learn what’s become of them. You may think it silly of me, and accuse me of drastically overthinking and over(psycho)analyzing a simple high school reunion – and you would probably be right. Nevertheless, in my defense, I’d wager all of us have places and times in our lives that, given the chance to return, the idea would give us pause. What you have read is a product of my “pause”. A mere expression of one’s self contemplating the mark of time – my time, our time.
Lord willing, this road trip will serve as both a literal and figurative journey: one outward, one inward, yet the same. We need such journeys, each of us. What may be found remains to be seen, or perhaps, unseen. Chasing after the wind may prove to be meaningless, but there remains yet the possibility of surprise. And with it, hope.
If nothing else, of course, I will relish the solitude of a 2600-mile round trip on the road. My middle-aged body may protest, but my spirit surely won’t. Because the best parts of a solo road trip are simply: solo, road, and trip.
Published in General
I spent four years at my high school, and have yet to attend one of the reunions. I don’t think I’ve missed anything.
Yeah, that’s my default position. I went to my 10-year reunion for the school I graduated from, but skipped the 20th, and am leaning toward skipping the 30th this fall. This one up north may be more of an excuse to take the solo trip somewhere, versus finding another excuse not to.
I went to my 5 and 10 year reunions. None since. Not that I don’t love my alma mater. I sent two sons there and I support it monetarily. But I have moved on. The people from that time who still mean something to me, I still have contact with. Those who were high school friends, but no further, live in my memory. Have fun Jim.
I went to the tenth. Wasn’t bad for me. Everyone else had to put up with that obnoxious guy showing up.
Obligatory:
Who says you’re not a writer?
I have had no interest in either High School or College reunions. My High School was built in 1963 or so and has been completely changed twice since then.
A place that I was interested in seeing again was the house and town where my grandparents on my mother’s side lived – Ridge Spring, SC. They had a house that looked like something from Gone with the Wind – large fluted columns, a long circular drive to the house which had large Pecan trees on either side.
My older brother and I spent many of our summer vacations there and I worked one summer in the Peach packing house. It was the source of memories that have a much larger spot in my heart than the actual time we spent. I wanted to see it again. Unfortunately, I did see it three times in the last 8 years for funerals of my parents and older brother. In addition to the sadness involved in the funerals, the old house is in total disrepair. When I got permission from the Police Chief to go on the property to see it, he warned me to stay in the car due to snakes and the general decay of the property.
I’m working to remember it the way I saw it as a child.
I really enjoyed this post Jim – very well written.
I have the same trepidations you do. I’m a loner and more prone to be interested in the past places but not the past people.
In fact, every summer since 2012 I have returned to my childhood home, our almost 175 year old family farm in NE Ohio. I grew up there and attended grade school through high school. I’ve not attended any high school reunions; the last big one being in 2016 – 40 years. I’ve still got 3 good friends who live up there and they are the only 3 I’ve kept in touch with.
I wish you well on your trip. Drive safely and let us know how it turned out.
Well, not compared to some people. But thanks.
This is the thing that both draws me and repels me. I want to see those places, and I fear the image of then being replaced with the reality of now. I’m counting on 30 years of reinforcement to hold the old memory in place, regardless of what I find in a few weeks.
I switched high schools after my sophomore year. That was in 1961. Someone reached out to me for their 20th reunion and I attended. I enjoyed it immensely. I was introduced as the mystery guest..
My childhood stomping grounds, up till the age of 10, are all gone now, plowed under and developed. The rural cemetery where my grandparents were buried, and where my father in his youth skidded his car across ice and knocked over a few tombstones, now has a WalMart across the street, and several fast-food joints, and a freeway exchange where none existed. 25 years ago, when we buried my grandmother there, it was sill quiet. Now the hum of traffic there is unceasing. It’s the same all over that area now.
Same with my old high school area – the school sat beyond the edge of town when I graduated, in the middle of woods and farms, and now is surrounded by strip malls and housing developments.
I can’t go back.
Yeah, I’ve had a taste of that with other places I’ve lived. Where I’m headed though is more likely to have that abandoned look, reverting to nature vs. human development and “progress”. It was sort of a depressed area 30 years ago, I expect it to be moreso now.
Blockbusting destroyed countless neighborhoods and countless trips to yesterday.
Amen!
You have no idea how much I’m craving the solo road time. If I’d had the forethought, I’d have written the post about that alone. Perhaps words best unwritten, but still understood.
For father’s day weekend this year I’m taking a half-week solo roadtrip. First to a writer’s conference, then to a monastery.
I’ve got a buddy who frequently encourages me to take a trip to the Abbey of Our Lady of Gethsemani in Kentucky for a silent retreat. Haven’t taken him up on that, because despite the silence, there’d still be other people there. Enjoy your trip – hope it’s fruitful for you!
The Spiritual Disciplines: Solitude and Silence
One of my favorite websites – haven’t browsed it in a while though. Thanks!