Revisiting the music of one's youth is part of the reunion with self. My wife's moment of truth at the reunion was the memorial service for the members of her class who had died. Twenty of them. She's a doctor, and she knows about death. But this was different.
Life is short.
And like most of those who go to such occasions with their eyes open, she came home with a revived sense of what is consequential and who is significant and what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. A new set of hopes and dreams tempered now by the view from the middle of life and the experiences of the road taken so far. She compared her life to her peers' and saw what there was to like about herself and what she still might become. And I am the beneficiary of her reunion, even though I did not go. She saw the men she might have married.