Reunions Stir Up Insecurities, So the Universe Sent George. Twice.

I almost didn’t go to my own reunion. Then came a cab ride, a dog, a second chance - and a message I finally heard.

Today felt like a good day to release old views that live rent free in my head and reclaim some space. Let me fill you in…

I almost didn’t go to my own reunion this weekend. I hesitated. Reunions can stir up all kinds of insecurities. And I had one in my head whispering in my ear.

I was afraid I’d be the one who didn’t quite belong. The one who didn’t stack up.

(I hold a Master’s in Public Health and an MBA, both from Yale.)

I don’t work in private equity or run a family fund or start-up or hold a C-level title.

I took a city government job, and I’m definitely not one of Yale’s top donors.

And then there’s this:

A family member once tried to shrink me with a single word.

It hit harder than I let on.

They probably define competence by job titles. Promotions. Private sector polish.

Maybe they saw city government work as a step down, or something people settle for.

This family member’s voice still tries to echo - but it’s getting quieter.

I didn’t settle. I chose this path.

And I’ve come to define success differently.

By how well you show up.

By the loyalty you earn.

By the impact you make when no one’s watching.

When I arrived at the New Haven train station, I asked the first cab driver to take me to the Courtyard Marriott so I can check in and drop off my bags.

He shrugged. Maybe the fare wasn’t worth it to him.

Then he waved the car behind him forward.

“What’s going on?” I asked him. “Do you not want to take me?”

That’s how I met George.

George said the first driver had something else to do.

George drove me to the Courtyard Marriott, waited while I checked in, then drove me to Yale School of Management for the welcome reception.

I was already an hour late to the reception, but I wasn’t rushing. That ride felt like a reset.

At one point, we pulled up next to a car with a Labrador sticker - and the real Labrador in the seat giving me the exact same look.

I asked the dog owner driving the car, “Did you buy the car to match the dog?”

The dog owner and George cracked up.

George thought it was hilarious that I just talk to strangers like that.

I told him how I was nervous about coming to my reunion.

How I was getting ready to see classmates who are remarkable. Successful.

We laughed like old friends.

Before I got out, he said:

“You’ve got Boss Lady vibes. Superstar energy.”

I tucked that in my pocket.

The ride from the station to the Courtyard Marriott to Yale was $34.

I gave George $50 and thanked him again - for the ride, for the wait, for the words, for the timing.

That first driver who took a pass on picking me up as a passenger?

We agreed it was his loss.

The reunion? Fabulous. Grounding. Honest.

I didn’t feel like the odd one out. I felt like I belonged - not because of my job, but because of who I am and what I value.

And the wildest part? I wasn’t the only one who had those doubts.

Over and over again, I heard versions of the same thing from classmates:

“I wasn’t sure I should come.”

“I was nervous about how I’d be perceived.”

We all showed up carrying something.

And yet - here we were. Laughing. Hugging. Reconnecting. Letting our guard down.

What struck me most?

Everyone, for the most part, is taking care of someone.

Kids. Personal health challenges. Partners with health challenges. Aging parents.

Some are navigating recent losses. Layoffs. Health scares. Shaky in-betweens.

There’s a quiet tenderness in the way people showed up this year.

I am so happy we came together.

We even pulled together a “We love you” video for one of our own battling ALS.

One of my dear classmates gave me a lift back to the train station.

I walked past the taxi line.

And there he was.

George.

Same cab. Same driver. Same exact energy.

He got out of the car and gave me a hug.

“Superstar,” he said again.

We pointed to each other.

George was there. Just like at the beginning.

That wasn’t random. That was choreographed by the universe.

At my city job - the one I worried might look small - someone once told me,

“If you ever leave, you’re dead to me.”

That’s how much love we have for each other.

One of my classmates said others had asked how I’m doing.

“Julie is at her city job. She is very happy and she gets to curse all day.”

I don’t judge people by their titles.

I judge them by how they treat others.

How they show up.

Who remembers them when they’re gone.

Sometimes the universe sends you a George - just so you’ll finally believe what it’s been saying all along:

You are already enough.

I didn’t need to prove I belonged.

I just needed to stop believing I didn’t.

And if you’re reading this and wondering whether you should go to your next reunion - go.

If you’re here, you belong.

We don’t have forever. Some of our classmates are already gone: Aisha, Sevgi, Rocio, Rich, Paul, Barbara, Madhu, Rafael…(classmates if you are reading this…let me know who else to add here) Update: here’s the full list from Seth and Erin:

Mani Sharma
Michael Daboul
Barbara Carol Coleman
Sevgi Silahtar Seba
Stephen Joseph Ravosa
Paul S. Coggin
Madhu Mukerji-Miller
Aisha de Sequeira
Rafael Jose Elias-Linero
David Nicholas Ramona
Fritz E. Schell III
Richard Allan Stifel
Rocío D. C. Consuegra Gamon

May they rest in peace.