An iconic photo and the love behind it.

What's yours?

A special breakfast celebration on a misty July morning, fifty years ago. Photo by Harry Naltchayan, The Washington Post.

I read a wonderful newspaper story this week about a famous old photograph and the bittersweet story behind it and, well, it struck a chord.

It may be because I’ve been looking at some nearly 50-year-old photos of my own in the last few weeks, squinting to see who’s pictured (no HD film or digital cameras in those days), trying to recall names and faces I haven’t thought about in decades. Though it wasn’t hard to remember what we were doing. The minute I opened the scrapbook, I knew. 

But first, the newspaper story.

Fifty years ago, in July of 1974, 12 friends who had become almost like family in Washington, DC, were shocked by the news that one of them, 28-year-old Janet Harley, had been diagnosed with terminal breast cancer. From reading the Washington Post story, it sounds like these friends were always putting together parties, scavenger hunts and other distractions from what we would now call adulting.

To honor Janet for her birthday, the other friends figured they would do something totally over the top: They’d set up a formal breakfast early one morning in July on the National Mall, complete with china, crystal, champagne and caviar, served by tuxedoed waiters and accompanied by a string quartet. They got the proper permits, rented formalwear and surprised the guest of honor early in the morning, her boyfriend escorting her to the edge of the Reflecting Pool, where the long table was set up, in a horsedrawn carriage.

Post photographer Harry Naltchayan documented it all, with a photo that became iconic. The paper sold it, along with other historic photos of people like Ronald Reagan and Martin Luther King Jr., to interested readers as late as the 1990s. But only recently did the story behind the famous photo come to light. The photographer’s daughter, Joyce Naltchayan Boghosian, met one of the participants a year ago and put the pieces together.

The remaining friends, now in their 70s, restaged the photo for the Post — and closed the loop on a charming story.

Do you have an iconic photo of your own youth? One that embodies sweet relationships and a particular moment that, even then, you knew was fleeting?

Part of the Northwestern field hockey team, fall 1978.

I certainly do: Mine is the photo, above.

It’s fall of 1978, and the mighty Northwestern field hockey team had just finished a game. Opinions — at least the ones in our team alumni Facebook chat — differ about exactly where we are, but the smiles on our faces tell me that we must have won the game. If you can look past the throwback clothes — yes, we wore purple-and-white kilts as uniforms (and why did I think wearing a purple garter was a good idea?) — you can see the beginnings of something important for all of us. And so much fun.

As I have written before, my time playing field hockey was foundational to everything that came later. In 1977, when I went to Evanston, the landscape for women, and women's sports, was wildly different than it is today. There were many fewer opportunities for girls to play sports, forget about at the highest level, and we were still seen as kind of a distraction. The NCAA didn't sanction women's sports — that began in 1982, the year after I graduated. 

But we didn’t really know any of that at the time. More clear were the advantages — and lessons — we learned as teammates.

By the time I was at NU, it was becoming accepted that women could achieve at the highest level, and we expected that would be the case. Nearly all of my teammates thought we could do absolutely ANYTHING we wanted to do after college, which was still pretty new. Playing field hockey was one way we manifested that belief, and it was powerful.

We learned how to work together, take responsibility, stay accountable and achieve. We learned not to make excuses for our ambition.

Nearly every job I've had since has drawn on what I learned as an NU field hockey player: How to keep going when things get hard. How to fall down (literally) and get back up. How to keep building toward a goal (like beating Iowa, which is still a cause for celebration today). How to work with everyone, not just your best friends. 

As I look at those happy faces in this and other pictures from my college field hockey days, I think about what one of the Washington friends said about their amazing breakfast escapade all those years ago: “It was our way of celebrating being alive — and together.”

Later this month, Northwestern field hockey will celebrate its 50^th anniversary in the midst of a season that has the team aiming for a fourth straight chance to compete for the national championship. (The national championship!) I’m delighted that some teammates I haven’t seen in decades will be there, and I’m wrestling with the idea that we’ll likely be the oldest alums in the room.

But we’ll be together.

Go, Cats.