40 years ago.
My hair was longer.
So was my beard.
But not grey like both are now.
40 years ago there were Moonies and the followers of the Guru Maharaji and Jesus Freaks.
I was reading Carlos Castaneda and Thomas Merton and listening to Jethro Tull.
The Vietnam War had just ended. Watergate had just begun.
And, I had just cut my hair to shoulder length as my graduation gift to my parents.
40 years later I was back.
Walking around the campus of the college where I had graduated.
Driving past the houses and apartments in which I had lived.
Remembering when.
Remembering who.
One more time naming those friends who shaped both who I was and who I am.
Then, walking back into the building where organized sit-ins and protests against the war.
And, sleeping one more night on beds that were far more uncomfortable now than I remember them being before.
I am still allowing the weekend to settle in.
What does it mean to catch up with people who were such good friends then, but with whom I have not spoken in 40 years, and through snippets of conversation catch a glimpse of so much change and so many years? And, for me to spend a few minutes being both 21 and 61 at the very same time doing my best to hold onto and to understand both and to catch a glimpse of that thread that connects then to now.
I almost didn’t go back.
But, I am glad I did.
Because they knew me then.
And, we may all need a few who do.
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