Old friends
Do you have a period of your life that was special?
Full of good times, good people, and a sense of belonging?
I hope that you do.
(I have a friend who still holidays with people she met back in university.)
To be honest, I have always struggled with nostalgia.
Aside from a poor autobiographical memory, I find that painful endings tend to cast a pall over good memories (a classic example of peak-end rule bias).
And then a month ago, the Universe gave me an unexpected gift.
Just as I was recovering from an unwanted blast from the past, I received a message from a good friend I’d lost touch with.
Did I know that the award-winning cinematographer of The Brutalist was Lol Crawley, one of our fellow students from an audio-visual course I took over thirty years ago, Damian asked. Or that Lol had been nominated for an Oscar?
And would I like to reconnect with another old friend, Marcus, who was putting together a congratulatory good-luck video message and hosting a group chat?
It was just the tonic I needed.
Because for me, the two years I spent in a draughty portacabin in Wrexham, learning about f-stops and stop-frames, unpicking stories and creating new ones, were two of the best years – perhaps the best - years of my life.
It’s probably not surprising.
I was 20 when I joined the two-year course, so right in the middle of the classic reminiscence bump (the period when we form the majority of our autobiographical memories).
(Yeah, there’s a reason why filmmakers and authors create so many coming-of-age stories.)
But more than that, it was a rare period of community and belonging.
Perhaps the breadth of ages helped.
The course was a BTEC, a work-related qualification offered as an alternative to A-Levels. A handful of those joining came straight from school.
But others came after sixth-form or other education or, like myself, were in their twenties, looking to retrain and follow their passions. We spanned the decades with one student, the wonderful and much-missed Kath, in her late fifties.
On reflection, it sounds like a recipe for cliches and clashes.
And yet, by spanning 16 to 60, and encompassing both tight friendships and a wider sense of community, it provided something that’s increasingly rare: a space for everyone to find kind company, acceptance, friendship, and humour.
No wonder that time held such a special place in the hearts of so many of us.
“Time it was and what a time it was, it was
A time of innocence
A time of confidences”
It wasn’t easy to find everyone, though. While most of us still had loose ties to revive, a couple of people had dropped off the map completely.
It took detective work, digging out old address books, and the judicious use of local Facebook groups (social media still has its uses, occasionally) to track down everyone who graduated in 1994.
And the joy of adding members to the lively WhatsApp chat, where you might easily wake up to 150 messages, has been immense.
Old photos dug out, old coursework discovered; old memories resurfaced.
At times it has been pure dopamine.
At others, it’s felt bittersweet. So much time has passed, and I miss being physically surrounded by such lovely and creative people on a daily basis.
Wonderfully enough, no-one has changed.
This was immediately apparent to Marcus, the driving force behind the video message and its editor. As each contribution was sent to him, his delight was shared with the group.
Sure, we have wrinkles.
Grey hair/no hair.
Glasses.
But the passage of time has burnished, not erased, the twinkle in someone’s eye, another’s quick wit, or another’s curiosity, generosity, or playfulness.
This was further confirmed when a dozen of us met over Zoom on Sunday evening.
I admit I was a little worried.
Would there be awkward silences? Would we still get on during a live call? How would I briefly share my life?
But it had the joyful tumble and talking-over of kids reuniting or a close family dinner.
Full of teasing, making fun, and laughter, with spouses, children, and dogs all mentioned (not necessarily in that order).
Lol showing off his BAFTA, to our applause and great delight.
A room full of former dreamers who are now lecturers and digital wizzards, restauranteurs and international presenters, horticulturalists and legal auditors, all sharing cliffnotes from the last thirty years and our second, third, or fourth acts.
As I closed my laptop, my heart was full.
Why am I sharing all this?
Because relationships matter.
The longest study in the world, the Harvard Study of Adult Development, has revealed that good relationships are the key to health, happiness, and longevity.
Indeed, the study’s current director, Robert Waldinger, defines a good life as “being engaged in activities I care about with people I care about.”
And yet the statistics are sobering.
In the UK alone, almost 4 million of us experience chronic loneliness. Work, life, and family demands can make it harder to make new friends as we get older.
And former palliative care nurse Bronnie Ware, in her now classic book about the regrets of the dying, lists, “I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends,” just ahead of “I wish that I had let myself be happier.”
I get it. Not everyone finds friendship easy.
And reconnecting with old friends isn’t for everyone.
Last year, research revealed how reluctant many of us are to rekindle past friendships, fearing rejection or awkwardness.
The same research suggests that practicing what you will send can help overcome those fears. Which makes me wonder: Is there someone you’d like to have in your orbit again?
Maybe it’s worth taking a chance.
As for me, I have plans this evening.
One of the last fellow students to be found was the reason why those two years were wonderful for many of us - myself included.
And thirty-one years later, we finally have a catch-up over Zoom.
