Last October, at least I think it was in October, Matt and I attended our 20th high school reunion. I ended up having a great time and marveled at how fun and funny it was to catch up with everyone after not seeing most for 20 years.
Turns out that was just a prelude to a much more suprising reunion, facilitated by Facebook and Keneseth Israel of all places. This Rosh Hashana, I went to greet the parents of an old friend (and I mean it; we met in 1974), when the mom told me that the daughter was going to be in town in April for Passover and that she’d like to catch up with me. Could I give her my contact information to pass on? Well, sure! I always liked her daughter, and I looked forward to seeing her again very much.
We exchanged emails, then continued the conversation on Facebook, where I immediately spotted some mutual friends, most of whom I met in the kindergarten era and lost touch with around middle school. Now that we are closer to middle age than childhood, it seemed a good time to catch up on the intervening 27 years or so.
So here we are last night:
The Old Gang
And there were were about 33 years ago as kindergartners at Keneseth Israel:
The Really Old Gang
The woman second from the right in the modern picture wasn’t in my kindergarten class, so isn’t in the picture of our field trip to Frankfort. The rest of us are, and are even recognizable if you were around back then and remember everyone. I also immediately recognize a few people I see every year for high holy day services, a few friends of friends I get caught up on, and one old friend who was a patient in my brother’s practice until she moved away a while back.
It’s amazing, really, that after an intentionally peripateic life in which I left behind so many lose ends, that I’d return to Louisville and KIP and start tying them up now. I was there last night and still can’t quite believe it. Adding to the surreal atmosphere of dinner was that I ran into my Uncle Sam while out. He is best-friends with my visiting friend’s father—so they got to catch up—and was joined at dinner by the parents of another acquaintance of mine.
I wonder: Thirty-seven years from now will Simon be meeting up with his old KIP buddies? If so, will he run into his Uncle Steve, Perry, or Dan or friends of ours while he’s out? I can only hope!