Cherished Friendships and the Ritual of Reunion

This week, as you cram your favorite Harvard sweatshirt into your suitcase, it’s probably safe to say you’ve given zero thought to your fifth reunion in 2021. As you hug your closest friends and head off to whatever adventures await you, the notion of your 50th reunion in 2066 surely must seem unfathomable. But you’ll be surprised at how quickly the decades speed by.

As you process through the Yard on Thursday morning, you’ll be greeted by a gauntlet of alumni and alumnae holding placards for classes with graduation years that end in a 6 and a 1. The 50th and 25th reunions likely will have the largest contingents and the loudest applause as they welcome you into the ranks of Harvard graduates.

Enjoy the love. Embrace the moment. These 40-somethings and 70-somethings see themselves in you, albeit younger and fresher with boundless possibility and vigor. Some of them may be quietly praying that among you are visionaries with solutions to address global warming, income inequality and bigotry. Some of them wish they’d left you a better world as they watch you launch into the nastiest, most contentious presidential election season in recent memory.

During your four years at Harvard, I hope you’ve created what will become lifelong friendships. I hope you’ve found your passion on a team, in a classroom, with the Kuumba Singers, or like I did, at WHRB. I hope you’ve taken advantage of this intentionally diverse microcosm to get to know people and points of view you’re unlikely to encounter on a daily basis in the “real world.”

Now as alumni and alumnae you join an international universe of people who ate in the same dining halls, survived the winter of 2015 and learned to pronounce “Brattle” in a distinctive way. As alumni and alumnae, I hope you’ll find others in that wide circle who share a sense of responsibility and enthusiasm for using their privilege, talent, education and expertise to make meaningful contributions.

I began to appreciate the value of this extended community when I returned to Cambridge in 1979 for my fifth reunion. At the time I was living in Houston, a move I’d made reluctantly, but strategically, for the sake of career development. Although I was learning a lot—and even now remain grateful to my mentors and colleagues—I longed to be back on the East Coast. And while I didn’t fully comprehend it at the time, I was still very much grieving the loss of my mother, who had died three years earlier.

Visiting Radcliffe Yard, sitting in Sanders Theatre and walking through the music department at the Coop lifted my spirits. When I saw women in their 80s and 90s proudly holding the Radcliffe banner at Commencement, I was inspired by their energy and confidence. Partying with friends stirred wonderful memories. Meeting classmates I’d never gotten to know was an unexpected bonus.

In college, out of convenience and affinity, our friendships often were determined by Houses, concentrations and extracurricular interests. Reconnecting with those friends is essential. While I’m at Noir listening to music with other black alumni or taking notes as class secretary at the Radcliffe alumnae meeting, other classmates may be headed to LGBTQ gatherings or having lunch in their Houses. But at reunions, we also mingle beyond past affinities and bond over a shared sense of place and past.

Over time, I’ve noticed that the essays in our reunion books have become more personal and more intimate, the conversations deeper and more revelatory.

At our 40th reunion in 2014, a classmate whose books always are prize-winning best sellers gave an entertaining, enlightening lecture. We listened to a panel of classmates then embarking on second careers and creating volunteer initiatives even as they approached retirement age. And then there was the “Eureka! Moment” session—a cross between a mini-TED Talk and Moth Radio—where twelve classmates gave five-minute presentations about moments that changed their lives. The death of a spouse. Struggles with addiction. A newborn’s severe illness. A near death experience. And also the recovery, renewal, healing and triumph that came in due time.

There were no recordings. No tweets. Everything was confidential and off-the-record. Love and trust enveloped the room.

It surely occurs to me that those of us who return for reunions are a self-selecting group. More nostalgic perhaps. The reward is being able to share the kind of intimacy we experienced in that “Eureka” session. And to know we’ll come back together again with new joys and stories to share.

I suspect the Class of 2016’s access to Facebook, FaceTime and other social media platforms will remove some of the itch to gather at five-year intervals. But I hope you’ll remain receptive to this ritual of reunion. There just is no on-line substitute for hugging an old friend, for watching her age gracefully, for talking late into the night with someone who knew your secrets and dreams before kids and mortgages and obligations.

Yes, you’ll be surprised at how quickly the decades speed by and how much you’ll come to cherish those friendships you’ve created during these last four years.

A’Lelia Bundles ’74 is chair of the National Archives Foundation and a former ABC News producer and executive. She is the author of "On Her Own Ground: The Life and Times of Madam C. J. Walker," a biography of her great-great-grandmother.