Why You Shouldn’t Not Come to Reunion

The reunion committee tapped me to be “College Captain Manager,” a position that has let me learn, through our college captains, some reasons classmates give for not coming to the reunion. I want to address those.

“Reason” No. 1: “I don’t like what Yale has become, and I don’t want to support it.”

You’re not supporting Yale by attending the reunion. In the first place, you’re not supporting Yale financially.   Yale breaks even on reunions, so attending our reunion doesn’t put any money into Yale’s coffers.  The fees we pay go to wages for the students who staff the reunion (“Reunion Clerks”), to Yale employees, and to local businesses, NOT to Yale University.

If your objection to “supporting Yale” is based on some quasi-animistic belief that by stepping into the Davenport courtyard you provide Yale with an ethereal uplift, you have missed the point of reunions. Reunions are about Yale only if you want them to be. They are always about seeing old friends—and, by the way, your old friends want to see you, too—and making new friends.  For many who come, that is all reunions are about. You can pretend you’re in Boise if you’d like.

“Reason” No. 2: “Reunion would be nice, but I can’t afford it.”

The simple rebuttal to this is at the YAA website: Financial assistance for attending our reunion is available on a confidential basis by emailing Jennifer Julier at the Yale Alumni Association (jennifer.julier@yale.edu) or calling her at 203-436-8014.

“Reason” No. 3: “My life didn’t turn out the way I meant for it to. I didn’t have a ‘Yale Career.’”

We’re 72 now, or thereabouts. Is having a “Yale Career” really so important? On the surface, I suppose I had a “Yale Career,” but that’s not what has made me happy in life. (In fact, to de-anonymize my note-to-my-1969-self (page 61 of the reunion book), I’m the classmate advising himself to “choose a profession other than law.”)

While many of us have found happiness in our work, to judge from the personal essays in the reunion book the main source of happiness for most of us has been family and friends.

Some of the essays in the book reveal paths taken that differ from those popularly taken as the norm for Ivy League graduates. Among others, we have:

• A classmate who made a career of sled-dog racing and designing and building mushing equipment.
• A classmate who built his own home in the Georgia woods, going for years without running water and electricity.
• A classmate who dropped out our sophomore year and came back to graduate from Yale in 2014.
• A classmate who worked as a carpenter and yoga instructor.
• A classmate who parlayed his love of water skiing into a career.
• A classmate who made a career out of repairing musical instruments.
• A classmate who served as an able-bodied seaman and bosun.
• A classmate who made a career building furniture he designed.

All these men seem to have had great lives, and their careers debunk the notion that there is such a thing as a “Yale Career.” (And they make me say to myself, “Why the hell did I not become a professional bridge player? A close-up magician?”)

And as for those whose lives were not only different, but also marked by difficulties, whose life hasn’t suffered setbacks? I can imagine trying to impress classmates at our 10th reunion. I think I probably did that. But c’mon guys! We’re in our seventies now. There’s no reason to try to impress fellow classmates now. No one cares whether you got fired, were divorced six times, filed for bankruptcy, or were arrested for shoplifting.

In sum, none of these reasons seem to be substantial enough to warrant skipping the reunion. Come! Your friends of 50 years ago want to see you!