It’s the time of year when
families, schools, fraternal organizations and other affinity groups plan
reunions. I’m not much of a reunion — or nostalgia — fan. I’ve only ever been
to two reunion events. The first took place more than ten years ago. It was not
a school reunion, however. It was a gathering of former crewmembers of the USS
Georgetown, the ship on which I served almost 50 years ago, when I was on
active duty with the U.S. Navy.
We old fogies had a good time.
We wore nametags, because some of us had changed just slightly. We watched some
grainy super 8 movies, mostly having to do with our antics when we crossed the
equator. We sat there in amazement, wondering who those slim young men on the
screen were — and where they’ve gone. We all spent time visiting with one
another and walking around Key West, a port of call with which we were all
familiar — decades ago.
Key West has changed, just as
I and my shipmates have changed. We all got older, raised families, and did
other things that are pretty normal. Most of our families are grown now, and
some of the wives aren’t the same ones with whom some of the guys started out
married life. Key West went from a sleepy town with a Navy base to one of the
premier tourist destinations in the country.
You can’t go back.
Most of us realized we were
not going to relive the days of our youth by visiting Key West. Our bodies
wouldn’t have handled it if we had tried. I have come face to face with this
realization numerous times in the past few years.
A few years back I took my
youngest daughter to visit the city in which I had grown up and the high school
from which I had graduated (fast forward a few more years and I attended
another reunion – the 50th anniversary of my graduation from that
same school!). The reality was somewhat shocking. None of the houses in which I
had lived were still standing. The school had bars on the windows and doors —
and probably hadn’t been swept since I graduated. My daughter grew to have a
better understanding of the socio-economic background from which I have
emerged. I learned a few things, too.
You can’t go back.
It’s good to have memories —
and it’s important to actually think about creating memories as we go along in
life. It’s good to remember both the good and the bad in our own biographies.
The good we can improve upon. The bad, perhaps, we can learn from. But we can’t
change any of it.
The most important change in
my life since “the old days” was one over which I had no control. For His own
reasons, God chose me to be one of His own. In 1978, a dozen years after I
separated from the navy, I was enlisted in God’s army. Now I am on a career path
which leads to eternal life.
I don’t want to go back.
Fortunately, we can alter our
present and our future. I was reminded, more than once, while in Key West, that
I could easily have been voted “least likely to succeed,” if they voted on such
things aboard the Georgetown. I drank hard and fought often and generally kept
myself in trouble. Shipmates told me they are surprised at “how well I’ve
turned out.”
Me too!
When I left the Navy, I went
to college; not because of a thirst for knowledge, but because the G.I. Bill
gave me money to do so. My attitude and my behavior didn’t change much. But
things are very different now. God has ordered my steps. He has allowed me to
have the kinds of background and experiences and education which some people
find helpful. His hand has been obvious in my life. Just when I thought I was
going to sneak off to Maine and become a semi-retired type, a congregation
recruited me to be its pastor. I have been called upon to use skills and
education for which God had prepared me, but which I have scarcely used in the
past few years. And I have plenty to share with these people to whom He sent
me.
Now I have “retired” from that
congregation in Maine and live and minister in Prague, Czech Republic.
You can’t go back. I really
wouldn’t want to, but it is fun reminiscing about “the good old days.” We just
can’t live there. We have to move on.
We of the USS Georgetown talked
about the next reunion. It never happened. I guess once was enough. I enjoyed
that reunion, but I’m glad to be back in the present. There’s never a dull
moment in the adventure.
By the way, I also can’t go
back and visit the USS Georgetown. It was decommissioned in 1969. My
understanding is that it was sold as scrap metal to the Gillette company. Maybe
I shaved with part of it this morning!
I certainly can’t go back.