Find what the Future Holds

“A lot different now, from when I was there, and pianos had to be carried up on the backs of men”.

“One man”, corrected the voice from another part of the hall.  “It only needed two men for a grand piano”. 

We were in a break during a concert of violin, cello, and piano by professional musicians in a chapel on the shores of a beautiful lake in North Carolina.  I was part of a group of 90+ people at the gathering.  I had never seen or met most of them.  But l knew them.  Very well.  Calling out, and answering – sharing like this with everyone — was easy, natural. 

We had all gone to the same school in Northern India.  Woodstock, Mussoorie is situated 6800 feet in the foothills of the Himalayas, and when I attended, there were no roads for vehicles, and the last three miles of our trip, after a woozy bus ride from the plains, were spent on foot.  So were all supplies and, as mentioned, furniture, including pianos.  

The student body was a mixture of missionaries,  princes, government children and English-speaking people from India and elsewhere, but we only knew them by their names and personalities.

Dorms were situated on surrounding hillsides.  Besides the altitude acclimitisation, we had hefty walks to and from school each day, sometimes several times, if there were evening events.

Our school year was scheduled around the fact that we had no heating during the winter.  School would close in early December, and open in March.  For ten years after I graduated, I could still tell you the winter coat of each one of my classmates.  We wore them all day and put them on our beds for extra warmth at night.  Some people I know (not to mention names) would wear pajamas to church.

We learned a lot by hiking.  We were encouraged to go out into the mountains, and rarely took the number of shoes our Headmaster’s wife declared were necessary.  But the main theme was always always to look after each other.  Once I was struck by lightning at the top of a hill, paralysing my legs, and as the torrent of great monsoon globules of rain beat upon us, my friends carried me down the hill until the feeling came back. When assessing the weight of our backpacks we knew they’d be heavier on the return journey, because of the rain.   We knew that if we had hiked to a village through pouring rain for 2 days, sometimes fording a river or two, the only way back was by hiking through pouring rain.  We certainly learned to keep on going no matter how rugged and steep the pathways might be.  I think I learned then that you never stop when you are tired and want to give up; you keep on going until a task is completed. 

Once, in an assembly, Mr. Burgoyne, our Headmaster said:  “I know you are not thinking about this now, but in the future, when you are choosing a life partner, take them on a three-day hike.  You will learn what they are really like.”

Academically we were able to fit into the schools of our homelands quite easily. At Woodstock we were never put in academic competition with each other. Grades were never publicly published.  No one knew the grades of the others, unless they themselves told us. 

So what happens to a group who is not academically in competition with each other?  Well, we keep on learning.  All our lives.  Even at this reunion there was a new information session on AI.  The history of my classmates is packed full of degrees, parallel learning activities, shifts in exciting newness as the years rolled by, and travel. Right now I can hardly keep up with weekly zoom classmates:   books, periodicals, films processed that week to share with the rest of us.  Six decades later they are still learning, branching out into other interests and insisting on many many “you-must-reads”.  Now THAT’s real schooling, from primary on up! 

Socially we were clueless.  Trying to understand classmates “back home” proved extremely difficult.  The jargon, the phone, coke machine, washing machine were all mysteries.  A ‘70’s student said she was terrified that she had broken her phone when she heard the “busy” signal; her father was irritated.  Another woman told of taking her son to first grade, in his new school.  Outside the door was a poster with names in two columns, telling which sports team each child was rooting for….to stop rivalry in the classroom?  My brother and a Chinese friend didn’t understand why rice wasn’t on the menu. 

I was glad to be here in this concert hall, listening to my 1959 classmate Robert play the piano so brilliantly – a lifetime of music since the days we were in school together studying music, and still learning now.

Almost 100 people, representing seven decades of Woodstock learning were together.  Looking over the huge dining hall, watching my colleagues talking with bubbling positivity, all fascinated by each other’s unending stories.  Hindi words interspersed in the conversations were never explained, because everyone knew what they meant, didn’t they?  Whole afternoons could be swallowed up in sitting around drinking chai, listening and sharing; whether we knew the person or not, we felt like siblings. 

 Perhaps that’s why these Woodstock reunions occur all over the world. Because no one understands us…but us! 

Paris Wrap

This recipe comes courtesy of Lufthansa Airlines.  I copied it from their menu sheet on the way to Munich, and thought I’d make it at home.  Sharing it with you means we’re all trying it together. 

At the top of a nearby hill, above the Arthurstone excavations  english-heritage.org.uk/arthurs stone there is a busy windmill, indicating that someone up there is making goat cheese that doesn’t taste like Goat. I don’t usually like goat cheese, but this is different.  California Daughter suggests that this recipe could do with a few drops of chilli oil.  It’s a new ingredient for me.  So I add it.

Ingredients:  a large tortilla, goat cheese, walnuts, lettuce, rocket (arugula), bell pepper, grapes cut in half , dates, honey mustard dressing with drops of chilli oil.

Result: 1.  I don’t know how to fold a wrap. 2. It held together better when embraced in cling film for a bit.  3.  The combination of ingredients is very very tasty, and delightfully filling.

Many thanks to all my Classmates of 1959, especially Gil, Edith, Gail.  And deep thanks to Kathy who gave me the treat of this reunion, plus driving over 2000 miles to get us there and back — my first visit to many southern states.