On a cloudless day in early June, a familiar event unfolded
on the green campus of a small, top-rated East Coast college. People of all ages gathered for the weekend
to reconnect and enjoy the camaraderie of their college reunion. As it was approaching noon, most of the
attendees were clustered at the dining hall, a welcoming vaulted gray building
partway down a rolling manicured green hill that was crisscrossed with walking
paths. Inside the dining hall, the atmosphere
was festive. There was a buzz of animated
conversation as the diners went through the lunch-lines, filling their trays
with a wide array of choices.
A young man, tall and broad-shouldered, with medium-length
sandy-colored hair, casual in T-shirt and jean shorts, took his loaded tray and
emerged into the dining area of the building, looking around for his Class
Table. As he looked back and forth, he
could see all the other Class Tables. He
was struck by how that sea of humanity, all equally dispersed in the food
service room he had just left, was now sorted out by age, in five year
increments. At one end, he could see his
own destination, the table populated by many other 27-year-olds like
himself. And at each other table in
order, the march of time continued steadily, though the diners seemed not to
notice, engaged as they were in friendly banter and deep conversations. Faces became progressively less youthful,
more lined, capped more and more by gray or no hair. The tables higher than 50th reunion had fewer
people at them. At a round table tucked
into a corner by a pillar, four beautiful people sat together as they marked their 70th
reunion.
Though he now knew which table to head for, he continued to
look around at the unique scene. He had
never seen anything like it before. It
was like a lifetime sped up into snapshots, or as if a time machine had
malfunctioned and brought all time together into one single great hall, yet
sorted into sections. He became aware of
his place at the beginning of this game of musical chairs. The thought of musical chairs brought up in
him a memory of a yet earlier age, when his elementary school teacher had the
students rotate around to different learning stations in the classroom. Making a mental note to write down these
impressions later (for he was a writer), he breathed deeply and strode off to
his first station in this life-long succession of learning stations.
As he approached the 5th reunion table, several people
glanced up and their faces lit up. Each
graduating class was only a few hundred students, so the community was
close-knit, and even more so for having been separated for only five
years. Our young man gratefully accepted
the waved invitation of his friend to join his side of the table, and jumped
directly into the conversation. They
knew him, and barely even had to glance at the letters on his nametag to reorient
themselves: “Gerry Fennel, Class of ‘78” in clear but elegant script above the
garnet-colored “Swarthmore College.”
An hour later, with dirty dishes piled up before the young
former classmates, the conversation ambled along easily with stories of jobs,
graduate school, families, children (just a few so far!) and memories of their
time together. Gerry suddenly turned to
his look at his watch, “Oh, I almost forgot, I have to go meet my cousin! She lives nearby and I haven’t seen her in…
forever! I’ll catch up with you guys at
the next event, OK?” Smiles and waves
saw him off. He bussed his tray
efficiently, then strode up the stairs and outside onto the courtyard where
some circular tables were set up for people to congregate informally. Ignoring the tables, Gerry settled himself
on a low stone wall by a huge statue of a hooded reclining figure and glanced
expectantly around while enjoying the warm breeze and the familiar views of the
huge oaks and stately Blue Atlas Cedar.
About a minute later, a smiling, slightly older woman moved toward
him. “Hey, cuz!” she warmly greeted
him. He stood up and a genuine smile
formed on his face in response to hers.
“Hi, Debbie! Wow, it
has been so long! I can’t even remember
how long, actually.”
“Don’t worry, I gave up trying to remember ‘last meetings’
long ago,” she laughed. “Well, it is so
nice to see you. How is the reunion?”
“Great! And the weather couldn’t be better.”
“So that is Emma over there, coloring at the table. See, in the blue sundress?”
“Oh my gosh! She is so big!
Last I saw of her was the baby picture you sent, and now… oh, man.”
“Come say hi, though I will warn you that she sometimes is
not too interested in meeting new people, especially when she is in her
creative flow, as you see here.”
Gerry chuckled. “No
problem. I don’t blame her for not being
too interested in various grown-ups she has never met.” Debbie and Gerry ambled over to where Emma
sat furiously coloring at one of the round tables set up on the courtyard, her
golden head bent over her task. Hanging
over the back of her chair was a white tote bad edged in red emblazoned with
gray ponies.
Debbie sat in the chair next to Emma. “Hi, Doodle. This is Gerry. He is my cousin.” Emma stopped coloring for a second and looked
up suspiciously, but interested.
“Like Frank and Dina are my cousins?”
“Yes,” answered Debbie. “Just like that.”
Emma’s eyes lit up.
“Did you play with Gerry when you were a little girl?”
Gerry and Debbie laugh.
“No, we lived very far apart, and also he is 12 years younger than me.”
Emma, seeming to have all her questions answered on the
matter, answered, “OK, bye Gerry” and went back to working on her book.
Gerry and Debbie chuckled. Debbie turned to Gerry and said, “Well, the
queen has dismissed her audience.” They
watched her for a few seconds more.
“When she is working on those books, she is just oblivious to everything
else. I am surprised she even stopped
long enough to say hi.”
Gerry replied, “Well, she certainly is dedicated to her
work.”
Debbie responded, “It’s her latest craze. A few months ago, we brought some paper and
pencils along to Quaker meeting to keep her occupied, to see if she could sit
through the meeting, and she started making her own books. She insisted on stapling them together when
we got home, and then even starting designing them with the facing pages, so
the staple would go on the spine. I
don’t know how she even figured that out.
Jon took one to work to make photocopies for her, and you should have
seen her face! He made three copies of
the book and then she colored each one in by hand. No published author could be prouder than
she.”
Gerry laughed. “She is obviously going to be a writer when
she grows up.”
Debbie replied, “Don’t tell her that! She will insist that
she already is one right now! Actually,
she has said she wants to be a librarian.
Say, could you stay with her for a couple minutes? I’ll be back in a few.”
“Sure.” Gerry sat
down and started loading his film as Debbie retreated toward the dining hall.
At first, Emma just colored in silence, then piped up, “How
do you spell ferocious?”
“Huh? Oh, um, F-E-R-O-C-I-O-U-S….. I think.”
Emma, who had been faithfully copying his letters, giggled.
“Wow, you are a pretty good writer for a 5-year-old.”
Emma just waved off this observation with a flick of her
hand. “I’m gifted,” she explained.
“Yes, I can see that.”
As Gerry clicked closed the film compartment, Emma asked,
“Why are all these people here today? Is this a party?”
“Well, they used to go to college here. I used to go to college here, but I
graduated, um, I finished it 5 years ago, so I came back to see my
friends. See my nametag says ‘Class of
‘78’ for 1978.”
Big eyes focused on him. “1978? That’s when I was born! Now I’m 5.”
“Well, yes, you were just a baby when I graduated.”
“Did you see me when I was a baby?”
“Actually, I am sorry to say, I didn’t come to see you
then. I was so busy getting ready to
graduate and then move, but now I wish I had! I bet you were a great baby.”
“That’s OK!” More
coloring. A suspicious look. “Are you my uncle?”
“No, I’m your cousin.”
Big giggle. “You are too big to be my cousin! My cousins are kids like me!”
“Well, I am your first cousin once removed.”
Giggle. “OK!”
“Those are some very
good pictures you have there.”
Emma stops coloring and finally looks up at him. “Do you want to read my book?”
“I would love to read your book,” answered Gerry as he
reached over and picked up one of the stapled sheafs of folded paper.
“Wait, wait!” yelled Emma as she snatched it back. “You have to check it out first, Silly.”
“Oh, pardon me,” replied Gerry as she handed him an index
card and said, “Here is your library card.” She then reached into her tote bag
and pulled out a metal inkpad and professional looking rubber stamp. She opened up the metal inkpad and set it
down on the table, pushed the rubber stamp into it forcefully, then carefully
opened the back inside front cover of the “book” and stamped it. “Please give me your library card, sir!” she
ordered officially. He handed it over,
open-mouthed, while she stamped it and handed it back to him.
He finally croaked out, “You have an INKPAD in there?” He
stared at the white tote bag with the gray ponies on it.
Big giggle as the professional librarian morphed back into
the bubbly preschooler. “I have
EVERYTHING in there!”
“Do your parents know that?”
She fixed him with a withering stare, just this side of
rolling her eyes. “Yes, they
knowww. I am being VERY careful.”
“Well, OK,” intoned Gerry, as he turned his attention back
to the book he had just checked out of Swarthmore College’s newest
library. “Huh, look at that. There’s a tiger! Uh oh, it looks like he escaped from the
cage!” He turned a few more pages as he
took it all in. Finally, he looked
up. “Thank you, Emma. That was a very good book!” As he turned to the very last page, he saw
the imprint of the rubber stamp. “Wow, a
date stamp and it has the right date on it!
June 4, 1983.”
“Yes, that is today’s date and it’s also the due date. So give it back now!”
Gerry handed it back.
“Wow, that was a short loan period.”
Emma placed the book carefully back among the others. “Do you know I am writing a book, too?”
Emma jerked her head
up in surprise. “Really?”
“Yup. I am working on
a kind of book called a novel. Actually
I have been working on it for about three years now, but I haven’t finished it
yet. In fact, I haven’t looked at it for
over a year.”
“Why not?”
“Well, it just seems hard to know how what to write.”
Emma’s eyes blazed with excitement, the way kids fall all
over themselves to blurt out a secret.
“Oh! I know it! You can just make up the story! If you use your imagination, you can make it
up yourself!”
Gerry smiled. “Yes, I
guess I need to use my imagination. But
the main problem is… once I finish it, it needs to be accepted by a
publisher. They have to say it is good
enough to make it a book, or else probably no one will ever get to read
it. And it probably won’t be accepted
because most books aren’t.”
Emma looked at him with a concerned gaze, and said, “But you
can just write it down with a pencil and Xerox it and staple it. I will show you how! You take some pieces, and then you fold them
like this, and then you staple them like this…”
“You have a stapler in there too?”
“I told you…I have everything in there!”
“Well just don’t staple your fingers.”
The withering gaze again.
“I am being VERY careful.”
“Look, here is how you staple. And then you can write with pencil. And then you can give people a library card
so they can read it. And you can color
in the pages with crayons.” She handed
him the stapled sheaf. “You can keep
that one and write your book on it. My
dad has lots of paper I can use.”
He looked at the stapled book and said, “Thank you,
Emma. I will do that. I guess I was making it too complicated.”
“Nobody can read your book if you don’t write it down first,
Silly!” Then she went back to coloring.
Just then, Debbie came back, making her apologies for taking
so long. Gerry told her not to worry and
that he and Emma had been having a grand time.
As Gerry took his leave and went off to the next event, he walked a
little way along the pathway among the oak trees, then looked back to wave at
Debbie and Emma.
“Say goodbye to your cousin Gerry, Emma!” prodded
Debbie. Emma looked up at Gerry as he
stepped away along the path, and gave him a big smile, a wave, and a wink.
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