To Reminisce Or Not To Reminisce, That Is A Question

Enjoying It More Than Once                                                  6/30/2017 [rev. 2024]
 
It happened to me while in the middle of a forced starvation at my college 25th reunion. Although St. Ed’s (Austin) had charged us fifty bucks per person to attend our reunion, the pickin’s were slim. Two foodie dudes in a closed off large circle were custom cooking orders one or two at a time. Counting the number of reunionites awaiting a chance to order, I quickly calculated we were going to have to stay there approximately eleven days to get our food. On top of that, I found I was surrounded by strangers. Then I remembered: most of my college friends quit prior to graduating, flunked out or were kicked out. I ended up being the semi-sole survivor of our group of friends. So my wife and I found a vending machine with tasty, though nasty pork skins, a cold Dr. Pepper, and embarked upon our own private journey into amazing nostalgia.

It was this hungry journey that taught me the great value of occasionally allowing ourselves to enjoy memories of days gone by. The problem is that some people devote too much time and emotional energy in recounting experiences. “Living in the past” for some, takes the place of living in the present. If we allow ourselves an occasional evening, or even a few minutes to re-enjoy our experiences, we get to practically live them a second time.
 We walked by the great oak tree next to the Student Union and suddenly I was seventeen, trying to coax down a friend who, because he was denied admission to a movie deemed 18 and older (as was I), he climbed way up the tree, leaving his date (their only date I might add) down below. On our next stop, we stood at the entrance of Moody Hall, I was transported to the moment in my second month in college when I stood in the same spot and realized I had really left home for this new place, 1500 miles away. I knew at that moment,  so many years ago that there was no going back. A few years later, on the south side of the Union I became so stupidly tongue tied trying to ask Denise out for the first time, I changed the subject, said goodbye and walked off. I was tempted to beat my head against the wall in frustrated dorkiness.

​Again, as we passed the Union, I was transported back to my highly competitive days. Well respected for my ping pong skills, I spent much time with the group from Singapore, where I learned a lot about the differences between American and Chinese customs and manners. If you play an American (or Middle Eastern for that matter), they are more than happy to beat you down 21 to 1. However, when you play an Asian, out of respect, they would never wish to humiliate you. Without giving their opponent obvious chances, the lesser player would always score a handful of points. Then, one day I asked a Chinese girl Winnie if she would care to go out with me, and she began crying. As my little ego was teetering on the brink, she explained: “my father back home is very strict. If I went on a date with an American, he would immediately send me home. I am so sorry Johnsommer (always one word), because I would like to go out with you”. I was sad for Winnie, but I also realized that was the first time I had ever been bitten by prejudice. 


As we strolled past the cafeteria, I again was transported to my freshman year when we had few choices of food. Early on they were serving roast beef! Thank heavens. However, my first bite was a shocking wake up call. It was so dry and nasty, my first bite was re-deposited into a napkin. This is where I discovered a new culinary enemy: liver and onions. A few of us would supplement our lousy cafeteria diets with a pizza place that was in walking distance. My friend Jim and I would split an extra-large pizza, and then split a small one. 18 year old metabolisms can handle a lot of food.  

The stories poured out of the both of us as we soloed around campus that night. As Denise’s Dad was a history professor at the university, and they lived within easy walking distance of campus. She had numerous stories, not just from her college experience, but growing up there as a kid. Despite our 25 years of marriage, I heard some stuff I had never heard before.
We shy away from living in the past, but amazing times should perhaps be revisited more than once. I have begun to enjoy great experiences more than once, but still happily live in the present, and always consider the future.
​
P.S: Dear St Ed's, can I have my $100 back, please? That's a lot of moola for pork rinds and two DPs.
 
 
John Sommer  2017/2024