Rushing to the airport, slightly behind schedule, how often one zips past cherry blossoms at their peak or ignores the majestic Jefferson shining in the dawn. Such is the stuff of a Cornell reunion. To cross Triphammer Bridge, not so late for an 8 o'clock that we miss watching Beebe Lake stand still for a moment. Or to reach the top of Libe Slope, unhurried enough by the lack of exams to be able to steal a glance back over to West Hill. I did it the first time I brought my wife and daughters to see Ithaca.
Reunion is about sounds as well as sights.
Perhaps the most emotional and revealing moment of the last reunion weekend for me was the Sunday farewell brunch in the Cascadilla Hall courtyard. The Sherwoods of old were there to perform. Then they began to sing. You could close your eyes and not know that they were not the gallant young lions who stirred the Class of 1965 and so many others. It was a real Back to the Future moment for me, realizing that, of all our fragile human bits and pieces, the voice may be one of the last things to go.