WordSisters

  • Letting Go Gracefully, Without Regrets

    Ellen Shriner's avatar

    Ellen Shriner

    Contemplating my 50th high school reunion got me thinking about friendships, acquaintanceships, and people I’m no longer in touch with.

    I’m a person who stays connected. I make the calls, send the emails, arrange the visits, and keep up the connections. For years. But I wonder, When should I simply loosen my grip and let a friendship or acquaintanceship slide? Couldn’t I say to myself, We were friends for a certain moment in time and now that time has passed? It’s OK to let go gracefully without regrets.

    I think I’ve done that with my high school friends. 

    I’m mildly curious about a few people. There was the cute redheaded guy I daydreamed about in math class. We ran in the same circles, but never dated and with time I became infatuated with other guys. He later became an architect and developer and now is one of the wealthiest members of the class. 

    I might enjoy talking with a brainy basketball star who was a good friend for a few years. She sat near me in several classes because our Catholic high school seated students alphabetically. However, even during college while I still lived in Toledo, we’d grown apart.

    A dark-haired acquaintance who had a big voice and an even bigger laugh also comes to mind. We hung around together during school musicals—she was a performer and I was the costumer.

    I’m curious about another dark-haired classmate in my advanced English class who became a nationally known journalist. We ran in different crowds (hers cooler than mine), but it would be fun to talk politics with her now, except she isn’t attending either. 

    I felt a pang to see a close girlhood friend listed among the deceased. We parted in 6th grade when she moved to a different neighborhood and got interested in boys. I was still shy and awkward then, not ready to date. We’d let go long ago, but I was sorry to read she had been in poor health for years and was no longer married.

    A friend who went to a different high school said her 50th reunion was the last one she’ll attend, because future reunions will involve classmates needing walkers and talk of who’s in the early stages of Alzheimer disease. 

    Her insight bolstered my decision to skip my 50th reunion. I’d rather remember my classmates as we were—young, high-spirited, and barely aware of life’s harder realities.

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    6 responses to “Letting Go Gracefully, Without Regrets”

    1. Sally Showalter Avatar
      Sally Showalter

      We had our 50th last year. Our graduating class was only 24 and 95% were together from 1st grade on. I moved from Illinois to AZ shortly after. I stay in touch through word of mouth, or by a cousin or two. Like you, I’d rather leave it alone for various reasons, and remember and write about those lively and fun years.

      1. Ellen Shriner Avatar
        Ellen Shriner

        Good to hear I’m not alone! Thanks for reading and commenting.

    2. Ann Coleman Avatar
      Ann Coleman

      I think many people have made the same decision. It all really depends, I think, on whether you’ve kept in touch with your old high school friends or not. If you haven’t, then it can get rather awkward trying to make small talk with your old classmates. And I really appreciate your comment about wanting to remember them as they were when you were close!

      1. Ellen Shriner Avatar
        Ellen Shriner

        Thanks! I moved away from my hometown 30+ years ago and didn’t stay in touch with my high school classmates, so we’re virtually strangers.

    3. Eliza Waters Avatar
      Eliza Waters

      You’ve summed it up well, Ellen. I stopped at my 20th, there was nothing there for me. Too much comparing! 😀
      The one friend I cared about I’m still connected to via FB, but I’m not on there much, so it is touching base now and again. Best to move forward, we’re all different people now.

      1. Ellen Shriner Avatar
        Ellen Shriner

        I appreciate hearing your perspective!

  • Dismantling the Bench

    Elizabeth di Grazia's avatar

    Elizabeth di Grazia

    Nestled under the pine tree was a rustic heavy duty five foot wooden bench. A sitting spot for kids waiting their turn on the diving board. For over ten years the bench fought against the elements. Snow, ice, hail, and summer sun grayed and pitted the wood. Year after year, the bench a fixture, just was. Cumbersome, awkward, and weighty, a few simple pieces of wood. A forgotten backdrop of many photos.

    Engraved on the back of the bench in large letters was, In memory of George and Mary K Smith. When I became the recipient of this bench the letters were in front. I promptly turned the bench slats around. I didn’t need a constant visual reminder of my parents though I was pleased that I was the beneficiary of the bench instead of my siblings. I felt like I had pulled something over on someone. The fact was, no one wanted the bench or had a place for it. Heavy as it was.

    Recently, our backyard was being landscaped. Pines removed. I yanked at the bench to drag it from its place. The bench complained and its right leg crumpled. Other joints also appeared ready to give way.

    Would I miss the bench?

    I tugged and jerked the bench to the side of the garage. Returned to retrieve its leg.

    After a couple of weeks, I called the neighbor to see if he would use his chain saw to take apart the bench. That seemed to be the quickest and easiest way to discard it.

    Wood shavings and a small pile of wood were in a corner of my driveway when I came home from work. I couldn’t believe that such a burden was reduced to so little.

    Little by little, week by week, I fed the pieces into our waste container. I was careful not to overload the bin and have the waste be rejected. Now it is gone.

    What I didn’t know was at this same time, our homestead was being sold. When I learned of this, I felt a punch in my chest. It’s finally done, I thought. It really happened. Our homestead is no more. Like the wooden bench the farm is gone.

    I had no financial stake in the homestead. Only emotional. What I miss is in my heart already. Aunt Kate, the pond, a sledding hill, the smell of popcorn, ice cream bars in the freezer. Those memories I can always draw on.

    If it was Aunt Kate’s name on the bench, I’m not sure I could have ever let it go.

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  • August Travel

    cmkraack's avatar

    cmkraack

    During the drive from home to being away, my mind travels extra time merging memories of past trips with plans for the next weeks. The years that pacifier inventory and gentle shampoo were critical has slowly morphed into double checking the packing of face creams, medications and comfortable shoes. Very slowly, but with determined forward motion, until time starts happening instead of moving. 

    Corn grows as far as the eye can see along the highway. Rivers and ponds look high for a second or third year. Construction has moved about twenty miles further south than the prior trip, but large trucks are still annoying in the cone-formed single lane. Too early for lunch, breakfast’s beverage wanting out, the discussion changes from the morning news and towards where to stop for a comfort break or whether to push on for an early burger. 

    August has always been vacation month for our family. What started out of necessity because of participation in post-season youth ball tournaments grew into tradition. Kids would get new sneakers and fresh summer clothes to avoid back-to-school shopping after returning home. Vacation in September is sweeter once untangled from kid schedules, but some places close Labor Day weekend making it hard to rent a kayak or find a soft-serve cone after time on the beach.

    Weighted down by sun screen and sun prevention clothing, watching birds swoop into the water for food and parents with preschoolers playing in the shallow spots, I remember a skinny teenager in a two piece subconsciously flirting with a boy, an older teen stranded with a car breakdown near a forbidden quarry, a honeymooning young woman and all the years leading to this person in this moment. Feet resting in shoreline water, a comfy chair, an umbrella and a book. Storing up another year.

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    One response to “August Travel”

    1. Sally Showalter Avatar
      Sally Showalter

      Vacations were always a treat, whether in a car on a trip, or the long summer at home without clocks dictating time, only by sunlight or night. Thank you for this post.

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