Photo by Christi Rentsch Moraga
A reunion is like Waterloo. Whether you overcome the many years of regret or embrace the joy of the return depends on who you were – Napoleon or Wellington. I had been a Napoleon, but left the campus finally on Sunday morning from Proctor, Gene O’Neill, again. The campus has shown much growth and change. Eastern vistas of the Green Mountains I had wished to revisit near Pearson, for example, had become obscured by trees. So quickly? And why? Wouldn’t anyone with an eye, see that and preserve it from other agendas? I chuckled though at declaiming against trees forty years old at least, on a campus such as this. And when I stared up at the four windows of my college lodgings, I heard the chatter of typewriters, the familiar voices of classmates, the soft resettling of gathering leaves, a recognizable rock tune from an opening in a building, and then the wind stopped. I was alone. Looking up at my past, in the hope that that uncertain college student inside my mind might look up from his desk and out, still… I completed my final walk reconciled to the forty year growth.
At the Reunion, the class of ’76 exchanged hugs, handshakes, anecdotes, memories; showed tears, enjoyed body shaking laughs, returned beer mugs, updated addresses, walked in parades, took pictures, showed grandchildren pictures, made promises to stay in touch and enjoyed a weekend made larger than three days’ time by the return of their classmates to a place they had shared for four years of their lives.
This is my last note as your class correspondent. It has been rewarding to share your thoughts with your classmates through this magazine. Stay in touch.
Gene O’Neill (ONeillEsq@optimum.net)