When asked to produce a 50th college reunion essay, I thought it would be easy. After all, I have been writing about my life for many years.
Facebook also brought up a retrospective photo of my 40th reunion, and from that springboard, I asked myself, what exactly have I done with the last decade?
The question, I concluded, is simply too big to answer.
These last ten years of climate change, political conflict, disease and personal adjustments cannot be encapsulated in one essay, one photo, or a glib philosophical trope—which is to say I am not ready to review it all— though others may try, and succeed well, and with personal satisfaction.
Apart from my own reluctance to summarize, another impediment to fulfilling this assignment is what I experienced on a recent trip to Europe.
We walked along several sections of the Camino de Santiago, a network of pilgrimage routes that emerged in the 9th century. We learned about quests for forgiveness and eternal redemption, supplications for disease cures, as well as sojourns for adventure and to turn the page on the past.
We also stood on the Beaches of Normandy.
We walked the paths in the Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial in Coleville-sur-Mer, which covers 172.5 acres and contains the graves of 9,387 American War Dead.
What I have done in the last ten years is not terribly notable or dramatic or impactful, compared with the uncertainties and fears faced by our fellow humans in the 9th century forward, or the sacrifices endured by those who fought evil and intolerance, even when it did not affect them or their country directly.
From history, we can draw inspiration from the past, and take measures to replicate the wise decisions, and not repeat the disasters.
It is education that gives us these tools of discernment, and to commiserate with other educated women, I will travel.
To mark the milestone, but also, to forge the path. ©
