Looking Back

I stepped back into my past yesterday. It went better than expected. Most of the past was still there visible through the vibrant new schools built on and in the shell of the old. In 1960 I was in the first class of a new minor seminary just outside Richmond Virginia. I lasted two years. I think the seminary lasted about fifteen. These days the grounds are home to two college prep schools.

I count my two years there as having been well spent. I was on my own. I learned a little Latin. Learned a little math. Read a ton of good books. And I discovered I could write and make people smile. I traded off the latter for the rest of my life. Talk about good starts. I also learned how to live among strangers and be of service. We took turns serving meals, doing dishes, clearing tables. We read aloud at meals. We were a community.

To celebrate my return, I sat in the chapel that was dedicated at the start of my second year. It was a grand occasion. The bishop came; my parents were there. Everyone was happy. All the memories made me a little misty eyed, I almost choked up when I checked in at the desk to seek permission to visit. But I rolled with it, because something so good deserved to be cried over, to be remembered with a touch of fond sadness. After all, it was a place where people believed in me, and it was the place that gave me a start. And all those people deserved a tear of gratitude.