Not long ago I re-reconnected with an old friend. We found one another on Facebook, had an online disagreement, and lost one another. But he resurfaced recently with a photo that I’m glad he shared. It was a picture of twenty or so 19 year old’s as counselors at Wel-Met camp, back in the day.
I was in the front row, middle (not shocking) lying on the lap of the woman behind me – who was staring down at me as though I were her baby. None of this struck me as odd as I scanned the photo and my memory for clues into my past. My then boyfriend was in the picture (nowhere near me) as was the friend who sent the photo. This is the use of social media at its best. Reuniting people that want to be reunited, no harmful, unjustified, or illegal motives afoot. Then, this same friend, hooked me up to a Wel-Met Facebook group, and wonder of wonders, the past flooded in, in the best possible way.
People wrote in about collecting salamanders after a summer rain, singing “Rise and shine,” to the kids to wake them, singing songs with very fast hand movements while waiting for meals in the dining hall (which I later taught to my own kids), getting lost in the woods (and found) and a host of large and small memories that warmed my heart.
Those were great days. There was a sense of safety, and I suppose innocence, we enjoyed that no longer exists in our world. No one was harming children, hitch hiking was not an excuse to rape, early morning was filled with sunshine and dew, not dangerous lurkers. I feel a little like my Dad who used to think his era was the best era – music, romance, humanity. Perhaps it is each generation’s way of loving life. It works for me.