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For some reason, when I thought about our 40th Class Reunion, the first thing that came to my mind was the song, “The Way We Were", from the movie with Barbara Streisand and Robert Redford.

You might remember how the lyrics went:
“Mem’ries, Like the corners of my mind Misty water-colored memories Of the way we were.” “Scattered pictures, Of the smiles we left behind Smiles we gave to one another For the way we were.” “Can it be that it was all so simple then? Or has time re-written every line? If we had the chance to do it all again Tell me, would we? could we?” “Mem’ries, may be beautiful and yet What’s too painful to remember We simply choose to forget.” “So it’s the laughter We will remember Whenever we remember... The way we were…”
Yes, it is the laughter that I so remember. And how so pretty we all were… And how clean we smelled… Thoroughly soaked in youth.

In the later 60s, what was burned were villages in Viet Nam; and slums, like Watts, in America; and draft cards; and bras. The burning in America was to consume all the old rules. The burning was to tell authorities, “You have no authority over me.” The burning was supposed to be for the liberation of our souls—for the youth to carry the nation. For the young to show the old how to live.

I wonder if other young people ever had to change as much as we did over a very short few years after we graduated. Many of us guys graduated in ‘65, goofed off for a year, joined the military or got drafted, and went to Viet Nam. When we got out, in ’68 or ’69, and over that 3 or 4-year period, we had changed. The war changed us. The military changed us. And to this day many of us still don’t want to talk about Viet Nam.

But as much as the guys in our class changed during this time, our girls changed even more I think. Just 2 or 3 years after graduating, you went from wearing long wool skirts with starched white blouses, to short mini-skirts, white go-go boots, and haltered t-tops. Yes girls, “You’ve Come a Long Way, Baby!”

Our anthem changed again. Now it was, “Make Love not War.”

I guess there were people who were deeply involved during these movements, but for most of us, we didn’t hand out the flowers and get active; our involvement was to adopt the fashion—and the drugs—associated with each movement.

So we smoked dope, wore sandals, and, for more formal occasions, wore jump-suits and polyester leisure suits. The girls had “big hair” and the guys, beards.

During these radically changing periods of history in America, life went on for us. We didn’t know that we were part of a revolution. We got married, began to have children, and started jobs. We now had our pictures developed in Kodak color; we bought new color TVs and hi-fi stereos; and began to listen to FM.

In the 70s we still felt like kids, but we were learning to deal with adult issues. In the decade of the 70s, we spent our 20s.

Since the 80s was the, “It’s all about me” decade, marriages got worse, and fashion got better. We felt that if we were going to make a change, it had to be now—for we were now in our 30s.

In the 1980s we finally understood that we needed jobs and money to make it month to month. The goofing off had to stop. Now the long march of life began to set in. We found it was a day-to-day march that was to be repeated by many, many hundreds of days in a row. The getting up; the “no excuses, I have responsibilities,” part of life was introducing itself to us.

Having to grow up made many sour expressions on our faces, and if it was combined with a hangover, it made for a series of very long, dreadful days.

These were also the days where we began to become invisible in life…when we were no longer people of interest. That’s right, somewhere in the 70s or the 80’s our kids had reached the magic ages (beginning at age 10) where they knew everything (like we used to). They reminded us every day, in a thousand ways, that we weren’t very cool; our clothes were a joke; and we were completely out of touch.

Yes, we had become what we always swore we would never be: our own parents. We found ourselves saying things to our kids that our parents told us. But mostly, we just mumbled, and crossed off another day from the calendar.

If we drove down to the beach now, it was to pick up our kids, and we began to notice that it was the 20-year olds who had the new cars. Our cars were hopeless and classless—according to our kids—and our kids cringed being seen in them—just like “back in the day” when we’d ask Dad to drop us off 5 blocks from school in P.T.

Sometime during the 80’s many of us were trying to get into the swing of Wednesday visitation with our kids, and every-other weekends…. Manufacturers made little suitcases for kids, and backpacks, so they could between go between Mom’s and Dad’s places. For some of us, husbands and wives were now replaced with boyfriends, or girlfriends, or just plain “significant others.” And to make life easier for everyone, we invented something called “day care” for our kids…now everyone could go get a job, for we were supporting 2 households.

Oh how we wish our kids every good thing as they begin the process of raising their own children, working out marital problems, and getting used to a different season of life. We give them our love and support; and we are prepared to let them make their own mistakes, just as we did.

Each one in this room has lost someone they have deeply loved: maybe it was a dear Mother and Father; or maybe a Sister or Brother; or maybe a Husband or Wife; or a precious friend.

In those times of deep losses, we sometimes wondered if we could go on.

Tonight, as we come together to celebrate our 40th Class Reunion for the class of 1965, we remember our classmates who have passed away before us: David Jensen. Tim Galen. Lynne Pope. Jim Peterson. Ross Teitzel. John Holman. Kathy Lauber. Walt Kellen. Dick Halliday. Nikki Abeyta. Ron Baltes.

These friends are no longer here, yet they are. Yes, they passed away, yet they still live in our hearts. And, we will carry them in our hearts all the days of our lives.

Listen, every one of us here tonight has lost so much: In addition to loved ones, some of us have lost health, or financial security. Others of us are not talking to anyone in our family; or we have relationships that started well, but then turned into deep resentments.

There might have been times in our lives when we spent a considerable amount of effort holding onto, rehearsing, and remembering hurtful insults—remembering how we had been wronged, or how much we hurt, or our deep disappointments in life. Some of us might have gotten into the habit of doing this remembering every night as we lay our heads on the pillow—recalling over and over every little detail of wrongs done to us. But, by so doing, we found that we had invited disillusionment and depression into our lives.

Most of us have now learned how to accept life on its own terms. We finally understood that we couldn’t accept the “good” in life, without accepting the “bad.”

Whatever bad times we have faced, rather than letting them cause disillusionment, we have learned to patiently wait…for we know that those dark times will be a wonderful backdrop for the beauty of the forthcoming sunrise.

Now as we close out our 50s, we are learning to constantly give thanks for our lives—no matter what our circumstances—and we constantly renew our purpose in life—creating a new vision and new hope for each season.

The glass has become transformed by the churning of sand and sea.

And so it has been with us here tonight. All the wonderful and painful stuff in our lives has churned us like sand and sea. We have become transformed by these events. Our “corners” have been rounded by life, and we have been made humble, beautiful, and very, very lovely.

There’s just one more thing I’d like to say. It regards us, the Classmates of 1965. We are blessed to have such a close class, but some of us have fallen out of fellowship with each other. Not intentionally; but because life got so fast. For some of us, it is slowing down again; like when we were bored as kids in P.T. and couldn’t wait to “get out of here.” Now we’re back. Let’s become friends again. Of all the friends we’ve made over the last 40 years, it is impossible to replace the best friends we’ve ever had: our own classmates.

Let’s promise one another tonight that we will stay the best of friends for all the days of our lives; and if one friend should pass before the other on this earth, that we will carry the other in our hearts until we see them again for all eternity.

In the meantime, as we continue life’s journey, May God continue to Bless Us—each one of us—in the Class of 1965!