Class of 1991


One had baby blue eyes, and liked football riots.
One was cheerful and innocent.
One an overly confident fashion model.
One was skeptical. He had older sisters and had become an uncle when he was 10.
One was playful like a monkey and suggested a “little shag” in the morning.
And from the 400 male students that started in my year, only one was brown.

Meeting new people. Moving out of the parent’s nest.  Starting University is like one big summer camp where you test, train and transform yourself, and celebrate all that you are and the potential of your whole future ahead of you.

When I hear Lenny Kravitz I think of that Summer. When I see Basic Instinct, I still recall my freshman year. And until a few years ago,  I woke up every morning looking into those baby blue eyes. The sturdy football hooligan and I fell madly in love, and we stayed together until our mid thirties.

The cheerful one. I remember when he did me a favor and I bought him chocolate, and it wasn’t until later that I heard that he’d been diagnosed with a disease that prohibited him from eating sweets.
And that he was gay, and didn’t tell anyone, and must have been terribly lonely at times.

The fashion model.  He was disappointed that I didn’t want to sleep with him, because he’d already slept with my roommate. “If I had known you were so strict I wouldn’t have slept with her.”
He dropped out of college in year two. Last thing I heard he became a gigolo.

The skeptic.  A few years ago he left his college sweetheart for a woman who wanted to have children.

The playful one lives on the other end of the world, torn by a violent divorce. This Summer, 20 years after we met,  I caressed his gray temples and spoke soothing words. Neither one of us proposed a shag.

And the only brown boy? He outdid the 400 others, and became the most successful of them all.

I just downloaded a new album from Lenny Kravitz; Black and White America, which he released last week. It fuels the melancholy that I have been carrying around this Summer.

It’s the 20th anniversary of our freshman year.

Class of 1991, my heart is with you.



3 gedachten over “Class of 1991

  1. Peter

    Nice! Brings back sweet memories of my class of ’89!
    I was already 27 when I quit my job and started a universitary study of History in Utrecht. Although I lost contact with all the students I met those years, when I close my eyes I can still see them all.

    1. L.S.

      Dank je Peter! Ik kreeg zo n heimwee dat ik bijna een nieuwe opleiding wilde beginnen, gewoon voor de kick. En dat op mijn 39e.

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