Today was an annual festival here in Jablonka — the thirtieth year in a row. That means they began having the festival just a few years before I first arrived. When we’re in Poland, we usually get at least to drop in on this festival.

This year, I saw several former students from those early days. Except for one, I didn’t recognize any of them immediately. I had to ask their name. When a bearded man in his mid-thirties approaches you, you’ll be forgiven if you don’t recognize him as the former student you last saw at age eighteen.