This year was the 40th anniversary of my graduation from high school. It was also the 35th anniversary of my college graduation. Tonight is also senior night for my youngest son. I’m not sure why, but when the first big cold snap hits, I get reflective this time of year about those big events… I’m not sure why… I can’t believe my youngest is a senior… …time is like a manic scattering of dust it seems…

I attended the 25th anniversary of my class reunion. I felt like a stranger at my class reunion. Many of my classmates held onto their relationships and friendships. I simply outgrew mine. Immersing myself into the culture of a conservatory atmosphere and hobnobbing with a fine arts culture so far out of my school’s normal. This distanced me further from my hometown over the years. Since then our class president passed away far too young. I think I only have one or two social media connections with classmates. I just scattered like dust in the wind…

I went back to my high school alma mater and taught for a couple of years until my oldest son was born. When a position opened up in my ex-wife’s school district, I seized upon that opportunity to be on the same calendar. During the two years I was there, nothing had changed. The routines were the same. The schedule had only altered about 10 minutes. The building smelled the same. It was still dank, dark, and dusty. The politics of the town were unchanged. If you were from a certain family you had status… I was just an outsider looking in at familiar geography with no connection whatsoever emotionally to the campus… …other than a handful of memories and trauma that changed my life at 17 that I relived daily working there… The dust never really settled…

This year I never heard about a reunion. No big deal, I had no plans to attend it. I don’t drink, which was the past time at the last reunion. I haven’t kept in contact with anyone. My relationships with my classmates ended forty years ago. I grew up and away, cut my ties, and moved. My home has always been where I hang my cap. My hometown… just feels alien to me… I guess I became a stranger sketching in the dust of familiarity…

A couple of summers ago, I went back to my college alma mater for my undergraduate degree. It was my first trip back to campus in a little more than a decade. The event was my music fraternity’s 100th birthday celebration. Here was an event that felt like I had some connection. I was able to catch up with some of my long-lost brothers. It was like time never passed. We had a nice celebration and dinner at our fraternity house. A house that has survived a fire, and numerous close calls with bankruptcy. The chapter has persevered and kept the mortgage in the chapter’s name. We are the only chapter of this fraternity to own our house outright. There were only three chapters that had a house when I was a student… I’m not sure if that is still the case.

When I wandered around the actual campus and the music building, it seemed like I had grown up and away from this campus as well. All of the faculty from the school I attended are long since retired. Many have passed away. The building looks the same, but only ghosts from my memory exist within it. I know the students will always be the same age that walk into this building, but my class, culture, and traditions have long since died. When the 35th class reunion for homecoming came up, I briefly thought about attending it. A classmate of mine was doing an alumni recital. They had some concerts scheduled, but I wasn’t motivated to go.

I just don’t feel the connection to anything at my alma mater other than my fraternity brothers and the house I lived in for a time during my undergraduate years. Those relationships were forged in blood, sweat, and tears of performance, practice, and a common love of music. I haven’t felt a connection musically, professionally, or brotherly with anyone that powerful since. The one exception is my best friend…

I find it odd, that I just don’t feel the connections to my alma mater like other people do. I don’t feel the passion for the places. Maybe this is a product of my mental health recovery that began eleven years ago. As a product of this recovery the only true positive memories of these experiences are in that fraternity house, and the relationships forged there were truly honest and meaningful… I don’t know… I just feel that past life (pre-depression & PTSD treatment) is in black and white, while I am living in a world of color now… All I know is the dust of the music hall at my alma mater smells the same… …it still collects in the secret spaces… …and it seems so much smaller now…

Tonight I go back to a former employer to see my son for his band senior night. I was axed by them 15 years ago. My job was replaced by computers for the 1:1 initiative. A few years later the marriage to the lone band director left at that school ended. My eldest has graduated from there. My youngest will be graduating in May 2027. I imagine there will be lots of ghosts here too. The only connection to the place is my son. Soon that will not exist either. The school district closed down two of the buildings I worked in. The other two are open, but the situations have changed within both buildings. The good memories of this place have been locked behind cages created by loss and trauma… …but tonight will be about my son, not me… That is where I will focus… …keeping the skeletons of my memory in the dusty spaces within my mind…

Despite this darkness and emptiness regarding my homecomings and reunions, I know there are others who see them with far more joy and thanksgiving. If that is you, I am glad you have that outlet and those relationships from those places. My friends are from performing groups over the years. I know that seems odd, but when you create something greater than yourself it bonds your friendships differently. Especially if it is a chamber music group. There are no homecomings or reunions for this former brass player or conductor. My best friend and I met at a high school band festival. He and I are from two different high schools, two different colleges, and we root for two different baseball teams. Our connection besides sports is music. We have played hundreds of concerts together. When I see him next, we wipe the dust away, and pick up from where we left off… …just like the remainder of my musical friends…

…so it goes…