Mrs. Teabody Nostalgizes

“Nostalgia serves a crucial existential function,” Dr. Routledge says. “It brings to mind cherished experiences that assure us we are valued people who have meaningful lives." 

How cross has this "spring" month made you, Gentle Reader? The buds on Mrs. Teabody's forsythia and roses are so tight and tiny there seems little hope of a flowery Easter and even the little birds at the feeders are wearing their winter coats to breakfast. If it were not for a nice steamy cuppa English Breakfast and a wooly robe, Mrs. Teabody would be languishing abed instead of tapping away this almost the end-of-March Sunday morning. Complaining about the weather is fruitless, of course. Mother Nature will do as she pleases and if Easter morning arrives blanketed in a few inches of snow, it will come as no surprise to Mrs. Teabody and her esteemed group of friends pictured above.

Clever Mr. Teabody used his computer skills to superimpose formal graduation/yearbook pictures from 1963 against last year's "Glamping" trip of these five friends as they approach their "three score years and ten" anniversary. For those with no sense of what a score is, suffice to say this is age 70 holding age 17.

Once a month Mrs. Teabody  spends a blissful few hours in the company of these girlhood friends and the years melt away as the group allow nostalgia and anticipation to rule the day. There is nothing false about these meetings. Each woman has known poverty, illness, separation, loss. There was nothing glamorous or easy about growing up in Appalachia in the 1960's, but that no-frills environment produced hardy plants. The unheated and shared bedrooms, the farm chores, the outdoor "plumbing" formed the background story for most classmates so when these five friends sit around a table, there is the camaraderie of sisters, the bond of resilience, the optimism of youth, and the gratitude for lives well-lived. While no one lives elaborately, everyone lives comfortably flushing toilets with ease, thermostats set well above freezing.

At least once during each gathering someone starts the discussion of age by asking, "Remember when 70 was old?" This always brings a laugh when someone answers, "70? How about 30?" "How old were our teachers?" someone asks. "Oh, they were ancient. Probably 30? Maybe some of them were 40." By this time everyone is laughing in a way only card-carrying Medicare members can laugh.

Plans are made. Hickory Bridge Farm for a birthday in April, New York City in May.  Train tickets are purchased and we sit in Sandy's living room light pouring in every window, blue mountains forming the horizon holding the group together as they always have. The years roll away. There sits the "girl" Mrs. Teabody hiked and ice skated with, sat with every morning on the bus, went to church youth group with, on roller skating parties--one that featured the remembered first kiss. There sits the always-ready-for-fun "girl" who gave hay rides and played phone pranks and wrapped up a boy in a box for Mrs. Teabody's sixteenth birthday. There sits the fearless "girl" who scored countless points in basketball and who still has an enviable figure and flawless memory. And, finally, there sits the "girl" with whom conversations were/are never long enough, whose home was a second home, whose family were a second family, whose name is the answer to a security question.  "God only knows what I'd Be Without You" sang the Beach Boys and  Mrs. Teabody is so grateful to have had these friends at age 17 and even more blessed to have them as she approaches 70.

Nostalgia has been described as a wound of the heart and was once thought to be a sign of depression. However, in more recent years nostalgia has been regarded in a much different light showing that  sharing stories of the past is a way of underscoring the connections that made life more meaningful. When  old friends and/or families sit together in a room sharing happy stories from the past, the temperature of the room actually rises, according to recent studies.

Mrs. Teabody hopes that a gathering of friends is part of your plans in the coming weeks. Perhaps you will be the one to look up a few  memorable classmates  and arrange  a meeting for lunch, some deliberate plan to spend time  together remembering the past and making plans for the future. Don't wait until you're 70. It's never too early to make meaningful and deliberate connections.