My daughter-in-law Becky has been planning and prepping for her high school reunion for months. It’s been ten years since the strains of Pomp and Circumstance filled the air in Jerome, Pennsylvania, as the relieved graduates claimed their hard-earned diplomas. Many have relocated in search of opportunities not available in their coal belt town, but they’ve returned this weekend with spouses and new babies in tow, for turkey at the family table and reconnection with their classmates at Saturday’s reunion. At ten years, they’ll still recognize each other, and they’ll share the old stories of their high school escapades and the new stories of their post-high school lives.
Nostalgia is defined as a sentimental longing or wistful affection for the past, typically for a period or place with happy personal associations. We all feel it from time to time, particularly at reunions or the Thanksgiving table, even when those memories carry with them a mix of happy and unhappy associations. I’ve had a week of nostalgia myself, beginning last weekend with a reunion at the Canton Salvation Army corps we pastored for nine years prior to coming to Ashland. Oh, how those old stories rolled off our tongues. How good to be together again.
Thanksgiving brought its own gift of nostalgia. Because of the demands of the Christmas kettle work of The Salvation Army, we seldom spent Thanksgiving with our extended family, opting instead to gather our own children around our table. We’d call home to talk with the grandparents – and now we’re the grandparents! This year, as our daughter-in-law’s family joined us, four generations bowed in a prayer of thanksgiving, and then proceeded to devour the turkey, mashed potatoes, and a dozen side dishes – and pie! And this year, it was our son’s turn to call home from Pennsylvania.
The news that a deeply-loved friend is seriously ill also came this week. We spent time together nearly every week in the early 80s, and although we’ve been separated by hundreds of miles for more than thirty years, our hearts are with them today.
A final reminder came in a message from Juanita Evege Stanford, an Ashland native now serving with The Salvation Army at the Kroc Center in Philadelphia. She visited a young woman in her congregation, and as they chatted, our names came into the conversation. The woman reached for a well-used Bible, showing Juanita the inscription from 1989: presented to Gwynette by Captain and Mrs. Lawrence Shade. As I remember, our house was somewhat of a chaotic mess in those days, but she spoke of being welcomed into our home and hearts in a way that has stayed with her all these years.
This sense of nostalgia has been accompanied by a wistfulness, a sorrow for the empty chairs, the loss of those claimed by death, and a longing for those separated by disconnection.Yetit has also come with a deepening sense of appreciation for the life I’ve been privileged to live, and for the people I’ve been blessed to know and love, who have known me and loved me in return. Parker Palmer puts it this way: “When I think back on the many people who have been so generous toward me, I never think of money or ‘things.’ Instead, I think of the way they gave me their presence, their confidence, their affirmation, support and blessing – all gifts of ‘self’ that any of us can give.” Even if the house is messy!
In 1906, William Booth, the General of The Salvation Army, wrote a letter to those serving in ministry. It began: “My Dear Comrades. You are the joy of my life today.” It goes without saying (although I must say it) that the lovely Madelyn Simone and the delightful and determined Elizabeth Holiday are at the top of the “joy of my life” list, but there are so many others, in Ashland, Canton, Cleveland, Philadelphia, Dover, Binghamton, Tonawanda, and literally scattered around the world. You, my dear ones, and you, my faithful readers, are the joy of my life. In response, I’m embracing Wendell Berry’s challenge: “Every day you have less reason not to give yourself away.” Grateful for the memories.
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