Prescription for Bliss

I had the privilege to study in the best public school in the city of São Paulo, I am afraid to say, 40 years ago. In fact, at that time, they were called Gymnasium and High School. The first comprised what we call today the 5th to 8th grades, and the High School, from 9th to 11th grade.

High School was also different, for it was divided into 3 categories: Classic (History, Philosophy, Languages, etc.—for the right brain students); Scientific (Physics, Math, Chemistry, etc—for the left brain students), and Normal or Education (for the future elementary teachers). I was a Classic girl. My brother Junior, a Scientific boy.

This said, I need to add, that mine was a public school. To get into the school, we would take a very difficult exam to enter 5th grade, that is, at age 11 or 12. Imagine that. At that time, only those who were average or below average, who didn't pass the exam for public schools, would attend private schools (with a few exceptions).

Being part of that group was the best thing that happened to our lives, for few can boast to have had a better adolescence than we did. Ours was a group of cohesive students who did everything together. We would have different subgroups and we would rotate from one to the next, depending on the activity we fancied at the moment.

My brother and I, inseparable, would go out to parties on the weekends and come back safely at 4 or 5 am. We spent our days going to friends houses either to study or to party. We were never alone. We would go to the theatre, shows, and dances! We knew everyone’s family members and were considered part of many families. Margaret Mead was right: it takes a community to raise children, and ours was an absolutely outstanding one. And all this in this big city that was (and is) São Paulo. Ah… those were the days, my friend; we thought they’d never end.

But when we least expected, these days did end, each of us going to a different university, getting settled, marrying, raising families, and working. Rarely, we would think about our great group of true companions and friends.

Forty years passed. We are now in our mid-50, all of us. A few have left us (my brother being one of the first, I think) and some are spread around the globe—I am one of them. But most of them are still in the city. All of us are living as pleasant a life as we can.

Enter Orkut. Indeed this Age of Information is a great thing. Before Orkut, there was, and still is Skype (www.skype.com), this great program that allows us to communicate via computer to anyone who possesses a computer and a microphone. All without cost.

So here I am one Friday late afternoon, speaking very leisurely with my cousin in São Paulo, when he mentions that there was a community of our school who meets at Orkut and that he recognized some people who belonged to our group. He invited me to enter and in I went.

Man! Talk about surprise! There are many people from our group in that virtual community. I am re-visiting people and getting to know about their lives. We exchange photos of our children; we post old class photos and try to discover who is who, we remember the good old days; we talk about our teachers, principals, counselors, student guardians, janitors… everyone! Some of them are even meeting face-to-face.

This is even better than a High School reunion—a concept that doesn’t exist in Brazil—because we meet everyone, not only our classmates. It has been a fabulous experience. I met some old friends, even a former boyfriend, among others and we took off as if not one day has passed since the great days of "Alberto Conte." And that was 40 years ago. How fantastic is that!

And I get tears to think that, in fact, true love never dies. I loved my friends and they loved me. Life goes on. Beautifully. All we need is love!