A series of posts about things I thought or hoped or feared I would do in 2008.
At the end of May, when Nicola and I are in LA reading, drinking, meeting folks and taking the sun (at least I hope so — it just started snowing again here, clearly the weather is broken), my 30th high school reunion will happen on the campus of the boarding school in New Hampshire that I attended for four years. Since we don’t have transporters yet, I’ll miss it. (Note to Scientists: where is all the Star Trek technology that was supposed to make my life so convenient?)
I had a blast at my 25th reunion. I hope the 30th will be as great for the folks who are there.
Things I will miss about this reunion:
Seeing old friends — Nora, Holly, Els, John and Beret, Carolyn, Edie, Hobson.
Here are some pictures of some of us at the 25th reunion in 2003.
Seeing the school — So much beauty. But it’s a different place now, too, and that is both right and a bit hard. It’s not “my school” anymore. (Hmm. I seem to be doing a lot of thinking right now about things that are no longer mine… see previous post about Wiscon.) But my school is alive in me in the way of the best memory — so vibrant and integral that even the changed reality doesn’t dislodge it. I don’t know… it’s funny how being there for the 25th and seeing the graduating students made me so conscious of my age and at the same time feel like 17 again.
Being in the boat — I have to preface this by saying that I am the least athletic person I know. So it’s very funny that I have a JV and a Varsity letter in anything, especially crew. It’s even more funny when you know that I was the tallest cox in the world and therefore weighed more (even at 110 pounds I was at least 20 pounds heavier than a cox was supposed to be). But the women who rowed in my boats were amazing, strong, focused, and so gutsy… (no pun intended, since rowing is the kind of sport where people throw up over the side of the boat when the race is over, especially if they’ve been rowing hard enough to win).
We were a great crew, and at these reunions we gather whoever is there from the original crew, round up other willing folk to fill the open slots, and go out on the water together again. The faculty person in charge of the boats that day always looks nervous as hell in the repressed But we can’t piss off the alumni way. Nora, who was the stroke of our boat, always has to remind me of at least one vocabulary term. And every time, the women of the crew are so beautiful on the water. We had so many powerful moments in that boat, training and winning and learning to pull together. My experience with crew is still one of the Great Happy Anomalies of my life.
I’ve written about the 25th reunion and my experience at school at length over the years, and have imported those posts from the Virtual Pint section of my old website for anyone who’s interested.
In chronological and conversational order:
Enjoy. And if you’d like to start a conversation, please do so — it’s easy. Or come back later and use the link on the sidebar, and let’s talk. Some of the stories and realizations that have been most important to me over the years have come directly out of these online conversations, and I’m always grateful for them.
I so envy your experience on crew. (I have a varsity letter in orchestra: last chair in the cello section…) I’ve fantasized about experiencing that skimming across water for years. Maybe that’s how my Finnish genes manage living in Arizona while craving flat water: I dream about rowing.
It really was amazing to me, still is — utterly unlike me, then and now, except that of course it must be “like me” since I did it. For three years. It was, as much in my experience has been, complete serendipity — we had to take a sport, and I hated sports, and there was nothing in spring except tennis (which I had already failed at miserably my freshman year), lacrosse (which was like soccer with a netty stick, and I had also failed miserably at soccer), or track (which was running, which I loathed…) So I figured I’d skulk in the background of crew and spend most of my time watching other people on the water.
Imagine my surprise when Ms. Darcy put me in a boat (this was at the non-competitive “we’re just doing sports here” level) as a cox. And my greater surprise when it turned out I was pretty good at it — I wouldn’t say boo to a goose in everyday life, but out on the water with a megaphone I turned into Miss Bossy Boat Driver. In a nice way, of course…
And those wonderful women rowed their guts out and trusted me to steer their boat, strategize their races, motivate them, push them…
You’re so close to the water in a crew shell — the boat’s half-underwater, and you’re more than halfway in the boat, so you end up about waist-level with the water as the shell surges and recovers, surges and recovers. The smell, the sunlight glinting or the rain coming down, the reeds and the rocks that we learned to avoid…
Out on the water, we made our own team, we solved our own rowing problems, we figured out how to talk to each other. And it was really one of those high-school bubble experiences — many of us literally never spoke to each other outside of the context of crew, but on the water we were a real team. The first I ever had.
I’ll miss you, Kelley — if I make it! Brother’s 50th birthday party, 25th college reunion, son’s (you’ll love this) regatta schedule all coincide that weekend. Hey, love the blog. I could seriously get lost in here when I have the time.
I thought of you when I was up at Turkey Pond a couple of weekends ago at one of Nate’s races (he rows for a club off the Charles River that competes with SPS.) I had told him about my tall coxswain friend, about the gorgeous wooden shells, about the perils of steering the boats under the bridge for new crews and coxes. He was most impressed by all the Halcyon/Shattuck plaques in the boathouse. At his school (public h.s.) — being a rower is an exotic and anonymous way of life. So all that rowing history at SPS was something to see.
Hope you and Nicola are well. Lots of love! Holly
Kelley,
If you are in LA that week, you seriously need to call me! My family and I have moved downtown to a condo right near the Staples Center and closer to my job. I would love to meet Nicola and spend some time with you while you are here.
Great blog and I’m so sorry I can’t make it up this year, too. Holly, you sound great and typically overscheduled (what else are competent Paulies supposed to do?) and Nora, thanks for pointing me to Kelley’s blog. Email me back and I’ll give you my phone number.
Love, Els
Holly, I’ll miss you too, whether you make it or not (smile). Els, I’ll see you in LA!