I studied together with my friend and classmate, Bill, in West and East Germany in 1988-1989. He and his family recently traveled to Rostock — his first trip back since our shared studies there. I was moved by what he posted on Facebook. With his permission, I’m reposting his thoughts here:

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Just finished up an amazing few days in Rostock with Renee and Dirk. I haven’t been back to Germany since leaving in the summer of ’89 and can’t imagine a better guide to past and present than you, Renee. Thanks for your incredible hospitality, and for making Ben, Marcia and I feel so welcomed into your wonderful home.

With almost 35 years passing in between, it was hard to match the technicolor present with my black and white memories. Glass buildings, colorful shops, and lively cafes have replaced the landscapes of cement structures. Warnemünde is a quaint tourist hotspot, and Rostock’s main square deserves a stop on any traveler’s journey.

While it hurt my brain to have Renee take us to places that made up my daily routines back then and draw only a blank, a few stairways, shops and walking paths were like time capsules that opened up to a rush of thoughts and feelings that have been hidden away for so long.

Moving around with no armed guards, Stasi or Wall felt odd but liberating, though I must confess there was a strange feeling of loss knowing that the world we knew is now irretrievable. Hard to say where that sense of loss comes from, really. Dirk reminded me that we all experience that sense of loss when we return to the spots so important in our younger years and realize the tree forts are gone, or the big hill we rode bikes down is only a slight grade to us now. So true.

And yet, there was something about that time in our lives, and the rare experience of leaving the West to live in a place outside the rat race and the market’s spell that was so much more than just a fond memory. It was an alternate universe, a glimpse into a strange universe where all the seemingly insoluble problems in the world we knew — homelessness, crime, inequality, rampant materialism — were addressed while all the givens we took for granted were missing. We all knew how privileged we were, philosophizing about whether the DDR’s trade of security for freedom was worth it with friends who had to live with the downsides while we were free to leave. But those discussions were no less profound because of that asymmetry. Indeed, the desire to bring the lessons on either side of the wall together into a new dialogue shaped my whole career, trying to figure out how we balance the need for each person to pursue their own goals while still ensuring we create conditions that ensure everyone has what they need to thrive.

I suppose that is part of what feels like a loss — the hope that it was still possible to visit a place that preserved that unique time in history, and in our lives. But that small sense of loss pales in comparison to a profound sense of appreciation. I’m left with an even deeper sense of gratitude for our experience, and a stronger connection with each of you. I have re-watched the videos you so thoughtfully helped inspire, Toby, better understanding now that our memories are fading resources worthy of careful preservation. So grateful for everyone’s generous contributions on this thread …

I hope someday we might all return, together, for a reunion of sorts. Rostock is still a magical place.