For those who may have had a similar experience in their lives, I am writing today about my reflections on my fiftieth high school reunion in New York City last weekend. I know this dates me somewhat, but there’s no way I can – or want – to hide from the realities and even the vicissitudes of this life experience.
It was, literally, a homecoming. And what made it even more interesting is that I’ve not lived in New York City since my high school days, going back to the mid-70s. My brothers and I closed out our parents’ apartment of 60+ years back in May of 2023, and I’ve not returned to The City since then – two and half years of complete separation from my birthplace. So, for me, this was a homecoming without a home. In a word: strange!
Even after arriving at Moynihan Station in Chelsea, Manhattan, I felt a bit out of place. This was so because I knew that, for the first time ever, I wouldn’t be heading to my parents’ apartment three blocks from Penn Station. Instead, I headed off to 33 rd and 7th to take the “1” train uptown to one of my lifelong friend’s apartments up around Columbia University, in Harlem. They hosted me for four nights during this reunion experience. And that was weird, too. Such were the arrangements I had to make as there was no longer a “home” for me in the city of my birth.
There were so many positive take-aways that I brought back to Western Massachusetts from that remarkable weekend. Perhaps one of the most meaningful was the discovery that I still felt at home with my former long-ago classmates (none of whom I had seen since our graduation at Carnegie Hall in June of 1975) and the city and its neighborhoods that I had long ago committed to heart and soul. I had said goodbye so many times to NYC, and now, remarkably, I was saying hello once again.
I was flooded with so many memories from my years there. But I was there to make new ones with old peers. And – I was surprised by the serendipities of feeling at home without a home. It gave me deep pause to reflect on the meaning of “home” as not so much a place but a feeling. It gave Dorothy’s comment during The Wizard of Oz new impact for me: “There’s no place like home. . .”
To feel “at home” is, for me at least, a deeply emotional expression of what it is to feel safe, secure, known, understood, cared for. “Home” may – or may not – represent any, some, or all these things, depending on both the physical and social context of the place itself. But being and feeling at home is quite different, as it introduces broader and deeper discernment than specific people, relationships, and a building. I was surprised and pleased to feel so at ease and so comfortable with all of my surroundings.
The reunion weekend happened in many different places and spaces: the very old and sinking building on 15th Street and 1st Avenue (once condemned, the date stone has since sunk to within three inches of the sidewalk) as well as the “new building” (now 20+ years old) just two blocks from Ground Zero, which I had never been to, as well as several other gatherings for meals, the NYC Circle Line ferry around Manhattan, and more. I was so determined to re-live my NYC years that I walked the three-plus miles from the new building near Rockefeller Park all the way up to my former apartment in Chelsea, taking in sights, sounds, and places both new and quite familiar. Each step was both in time and out of time – change was both in the air and on the ground all along.
The work I had to do that weekend was about suspending the memories and images of back then (who was I, really, at age 18?) in order to be as present and focused as possible on the here-and-now of reclaiming old classmates as renewed friends. I was especially pleased that the reunion connections were made more alive because they didn’t focus on our previous achievements, accomplishments, resumes, and so one. Instead, it seemed we reunioners were more at home sharing our present-day livelihoods, grandkids (for some of us), travels, and travails (ahhh, growing old: not for the faint of heart!). That was a wonderful, warm, and welcome equalizer. And it surely made me feel more at home than ever!
In these dark and alienating days, when isolation and fear are so prevalent, having and being “at home” are of crucial importance. We all need the sense of safety, security, and connection that home provides, no matter what it looks like from the outside.
What a learning and growthful experience this reunion weekend was for me… It was a beautiful opportunity to come to see that living well and long enough allows us the opportunity to circle back around to some of the people and relationships back then that helped to mold me into the older person I’ve now become. I feel abundantly thankful that I experienced and then let go of all the jitters and anticipatory anxiety that loomed large when I first decided to embark on this singular life experience. I’ve now come to see beyond the shadow of any doubt that “home is where the heart is.”
Daniel Cantor Yalowitz writes a regular column in the Recorder. A developmental and intercultural psychologist, he has facilitated change in many organizations and communities around the world. His two most recent books are “Journeying with Your Archetypes” and “Reflections on the Nature of Friendship.” Reach out to him at danielcyalowitz@gmail.com.
Editor’s Note: The title of Daniel Cantor Yalowitz’s column in the Recorder’s Oct. 27 print edition contained a typo. The correct title is “Building and rebuilding in new ways.”