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June 8, 2008

Wellesley reunion: A time and heat warp

It was hot at Wellesley yesterday everywhere except in the living room of my old dorm. Putting my husband -- whom I hadn't yet met when I lived here -- into that scene is probably the closest I came to connecting my past and my future. Overlooking a lake, Wellesley really is that Gothic and beautiful.

Lore has it that these balconies at Claflin Hall are decorated with Alice in Wonderland carvings in honor of a founder’s daughter who was crushed by a beam during construction. They are easily the most whimsical feature of the college.

Air-conditioned buses looped constantly from one building to another. We shared a ride with the oldest returning alumna, Kathryn Davis, 101, of the class of 1928 -- she's tiny, but spry on her walker.

Wildest ride of the day came on the back of a golf cart, facing backwards and holding on with one hand as the driver sped up steep hills, pitting us against gravity at alarming angles.

(Later: In case anyone should think I'm complaining, it was my wildest ride since I was third on a motorcycle in New Delhi traffic, trying not to faint from the heat and die under hot wheels. I loved it.)

But a lot didn't happen because of the withering heat. Plans to explore and photograph favorite spots were scuttled. Mid-afternoon, we fled to Natick for a cool beer in an air-conditioned pub (Wellesley is a dry town), and returned later for the class dinner. More than 200 women, about a third of class of '68, showed up. Some faces I recognized immediately, but there was much reading of nametags followed by, "I remember you!"

There isn't really a lot to report -- it was an intensely personal, emotional experience, meeting women I'd known as girls so much later in our lives. (Reunions are, at their core, about Time.) Some had retired early after lucrative careers; others reeled from recent divorces, and life on their own so far down the road. Some brought husbands, others came alone and stayed in the dorms, reliving college life. Some who had been intimidatingly beautiful then had grown plain, some of the plain had turned stunning. Some looked essentially unchanged, others had aged tremendously.

As a child, I had wondered what my white-haired relatives could have looked like when they were younger. Seeing one Barbara Bush-type now, and remembering her as a young woman, I finally understood that process.

We did snag one of the very cool fiber-optic centerpieces.

Posted by Sheila Lennon  at 10:37 AM | Permalink

Comments

Posted by: Bunny on June 8, 2008 11:15 PM