No Raining on This P-rade
It took more than April-like showers and March-like temperatures to slow a Memorial Day weekend Reunions
Princeton loves superlatives, but when it comes to Reunions weather, they are usually associated with heat and tropical humidity.
This year, with temperatures on Saturday night hovering at 50 degrees and wind chills deep into the 40s, it was surely the coldest Reunions on the books. If anyone can point to a colder one, I’m all ears, although please recognize that those ears might still be a little blue around the edges.
Deciding to wander around and sample each major, I received some validation for this belief. It was only 9 p.m., but Ralph Davies ’66 and his wife, Anne, were already walking out of the 60th headquarters in Holder Hall.
“Coldest Reunions you’ve seen?” I asked.
“Yes,” Ralph replied.
“And you’re leaving because of it?”
“Yes.”
“We’re old people!” Anne chimed in.
Theirs, though, turned out to be a minority view. For most alums, especially the younger ones, it takes more than April-like showers and March-like temperatures to slow a Memorial Day weekend Reunions. From one end of campus to the other, most people bundled up and partied on.
They had been partying most of the day Saturday. As usual, orange and black attire was everywhere, but reuners were often seen in hats and coats worn over class costumes. For this year, at least, short sleeves were out. The P-rade kicked off under gloomy skies, and when the precipitation did begin during the march, alternating between a light mist and a steady drizzle, everyone simply popped open umbrellas, donned ponchos and slickers, and kept going. Even the evening fireworks went off as scheduled.
As Saturday night progressed, the campus was as bustling as always. Typical was the scene at the 25th reunion headquarters in Whitman College, which was packed with alumni and students from all classes. When asked if the weather was bothering them, a group of seniors from the football team shrugged it off like a would-be tackler.
“No effect,” said Charlie Lingon ’26. Having already made a round of all the tents on rainless Thursday night, he and his teammates were prepared to stay put.
“You make the best of it,” added Robert Longden ’01, standing nearby with his wife, Noel Longden ’02, who had made the trip from Hoboken, New Jersey, with their two young children.
For most of the evening, in fact, it was barely raining, although it was damp and raw. This was hardly the first wet Reunions, and the Facilities crews had done their best to make the headquarters habitable. A few courtyards had wooden boardwalks laid across the grass. Around most of the entrance gates, layers of straw had been put down to mop up the mud puddles.
Sounds may have been dampened by the wet weather, but strolling around the campus was like a rolling concert, as the band from one courtyard faded and the next one picked up. Billy Idol’s “Rebel Yell” was blasting at the 30th, Bruce Springsteen’s “Born to Run” at the 10th. Oddly, two different reunions, the 60th and the 45th, were both playing Frankie Valli’s “Oh, What a Night.” Even odder, perhaps, acclaimed jazz guitarist Stanley Jordan ’81 and his band were entertaining the 45th reunion with Arlo Guthrie’s folk classic “City of New Orleans.”
At the 50th, back up in Blair-Joline courtyard, the always-popular Right On Band was trying to get the crowd moving for the Animal House banger “Shout.”
“Come on,” the lead singer exhorted, “this song was made for people who can’t dance! Haven’t you ever been to a bar mitzvah?” His words seemed to goad them into action. When it came time to get a little bit softer now, they swiveled as low as people in their 70s can go.
Related coverage
When Local Teens Crash Reunions
At the 40th, in 1879 courtyard, everyone who wasn’t waiting for beer seemed to be dancing to Katrina and the Waves’ “Walking on Sunshine.” In a truly genius move, a table under one of the side tents was piled high with dozens of hot pizzas delivered from a nearby pizzeria. It wasn’t my class’s reunion headquarters, but I took a piece anyway. And don’t it feel — and taste — good?
The heart of any Reunions Saturday night, though, is always the fifth, held in Pyne-1901 courtyard. By the time I reached it, it was getting late and the rain had picked up. Although a Public Safety officer, dressed in a yellow slicker and hood, ventured that the crowd was a little thinner than usual, it didn’t look that way. There were the usual knots of old friends deep in conversation. Four lines at the beer tent were each a dozen people deep.
Standing nearby, Andrew and Richard, both Class of 2024, gave only their first names but conceded nothing to the elements. Their clothes were soaked, Andrew’s hair was plastered to his head, and Richard’s glasses were speckled with raindrops. When I complimented them on defying the weather, Andrew was philosophical.
“Our time here is so short,” he said. “We have to make the most of it.”
Then the band started its next set, playing a song I won’t even pretend to say that I recognized. But everyone else did. As the midnight hour passed, and the drops began to fall heavier than they had all night, the young people did what we are often told to do in the rain. They jumped up and down and danced.
Mark F. Bernstein ’83 is PAW’s senior writer.
Related News
Songwriting Class Is a Princeton Atelier Tradition
Laura Hwa ’26 estimated that she and her classmates collectively wrote around 70 songs this spring
A Physics Professor Tested Whether AI Can Reliably Grade Exams
Professor Lyman Page compared his grades to ones generated by Google’s Gemini
No responses yet