November 28th, 2010

Interesting words

"Sometimes it seems tragic that the past of anyone divides itself into compartments each completely separate from the others and without communication. You live for a while in one of those compartments among familiar faces, familiar scenes, and the, without ever knowing quite the basic reason for it, some inner force of growth or decay moves you out of there. They're the phases through which you pass in living. You know a lot of people and forget the first people, and then you meet a lot more and forget again. You can't keep them all together. You divide your life into compartments, and there were some about which your present friends knew nothing, and you could not explain them clearly. It never worked, bringing old friends around, any more than explaining them ever worked. They were the shadowy dwellers in the forgotten mansions of the soul. It was even hard to recall what they had ever seen in you or how they had ever fitted into the pattern of your life. Occasionally it shocks you to hear your name called and to see someone suddenly who remembers all sorts of things which you have forgotten, someone in whose mind you still live vividly; younger, gayer, still moving about in performances which you have left forever. Someone had been kind to you back there, and now it was all gone. It was the sort of kindness you could never repay, the sort of friendship that could only last back there. There is something elaborate about it, and something sad. There is nothing so dangerous or so impossible as to try to mix divergent worlds."
John P. Marquand

156 - brunch with grads

I met up with four grads (three from 2004, one from 2006) over at the Varsity Inn on 65th this morning and had an excellent time. Three of them were heading over to the Seahawks game, so we made a pregame brunch out of it. It started with one, then two, then grew to three and ended at four, though I heard of others that wanted to join us but couldn't. It was a good occasion for getting up to date on each others' lives, fed by mimosas and pancakes. They come from one of my favorite eras at the Salt Mine, before things started to sour in terms of management, so I was strongly reminded of how great a school we had. Some day I might actually discuss how the year 2006-07 began a difficult time for the school, but not yet. This was a good morning. You do know how seldom I get myself talked out of bed for a breakfast meeting, don't you?

(I am increasingly being asked what wonderful thing the Salt Mine did to thank me for all those years. And I am less and less willing to equivocate in answering.)