This is the second time I’ve offered a class report at the reunion, and as I’ve worked on it, I’ve felt like I was working on a kind of a state of the union. Because it is the state of the union – our union, the union that we forged as the 1972 graduating class of Manhattan High School.

Compiling the directory, as I do in these five-year increments, has turned into an eye-opening exercise. Of course, I always look forward to finding out all the different things we’re doing. But often what’s just as striking is our similarities. And this time around, it really hit me: We really are our own demographic microcosm.

By virtue of the fact we’re all exactly the same age, we can’t help but bounce along on basically the same ebbs and flows of life. Five years ago, so many of the parents among us were getting their kids ready for college. Now our kids have graduated, and we’re helping to plan their weddings or welcoming grandchildren into our families.

Five years ago, so many folks were sailing along in their careers. Now, there’s a palpable anticipation of retirement – and even a few of us have already retired. Ed Perry and Lisa McCrann have both taken early retirement. Jim Dodge intends to do the same within the next couple of years. Libbie Beaudet Richards considers herself semi-retired.

Another big life change: Many of us by now have lost one or both of our parents, and for those of us whose parents are still living, we anxiously watch as they become more and more fragile.

We don’t have to go see “The Lion King” to fully appreciate this thing called the circle of life.

What two of our classmates have been going through right now really brought that point home to me:  A couple weeks ago, Vicky Gritton Shank wrote to say she wasn’t sure she’d be able to attend the reunion because she wanted to be with her son and his family for the birth of her second grandbaby. And in just the past couple of days, Barbara Johnson Wells has had to cancel her plans to come because her father-in-law is in his final days of hospice care in her home.

Five years ago, we still thought of ourselves as being in our mid-40s, so we could still delude ourselves into believing we were middle-aged … But if that description means the “middle of life,” I fear it’s about time to stop being delusional – unless we’re all expecting to live to be 106.

As Susie Norton said in her directory entry, “I’m now part of the oldest generation of my family … scary thought.”  No doubt about it … This aging thing is taking some getting used to.

You know, a few months ago, out of the blue, I got an email from our high school journalism teacher, Mrs. Hazlett. She ran into a friend of my parents, I came up in conversation, and she just decided to drop me a line. I must say I was surprised and delighted – because, for one thing, I figured Mrs. Hazlett was, well … dead. But then I did the math, and I realized that when she was teaching us, she was about the same age that we are now.  And all I could think was … dang, we’re old.

Is there a classmate in this room who has not gotten that fateful letter from AARP yet? Not to mention the second one and the third and the fourth and the fifth … Even though I know they have all those great discounts, I keep resisting joining because it seems like such a major concession to the indisputable fact that I actually qualify for membership. But who needs reminders in your mailbox to feel the creep of the years? We’re not just getting older. We’re biodegrading.

Consider what we have to do just for upkeep these days – the diet and exercise, those fun medical exams like mammograms and colonoscopies, the prescription medications, the vitamin supplements and immunity boosters and hormone creams. And then there’s the coloring, the waxing, the tweezing, the flossing, the scraping, the smoothing, the exfoliating, the conditioners and the moisturizers for eyes, elbows, feet, and everything else in between. It takes almost – and I stress almost – as much time for basic body maintenance as it did back in high school for Joanne Gallaher to straighten her bangs.

For the first time in my life I’ve bought makeup – just to return my skin color to what I consider its natural state. Perhaps the pragmatic Steve Parker said it best in his directory entry: “It’s entirely too late for me to die young and leave a beautiful corpse.”

Last week, I had a fun phone conversation with Tina Langton Kaiser, and she was remembering the last reunion, when she and I stood and stared at one of our classmates who had been a bit more vigilant with her diet and exercise. The two of us realized we now had five whole years to get all skinny and buff just like her for the next reunion.

“So did you do it?” Tina asked me last week.

“Nope,” I said.

“Eh, me, neither.”         

And you know what? We were both okay with that – because it wasn’t like we’ve been slouches for the past five years. Actually, I’m amazed and encouraged by just how well we are still digging into our lives. Some of us – such as Shelly Ince Freed, Ellen Durkee, Ed Schiappa, Patrice Shepard Rodriguez, Susie Campbell and Tina – are still in the thick of it with their grade schoolers. Several of us – Susan McCarthy, Eric Danielson, Wynne Wilbur, Joanne Gallaher and myself included – have gone back to college. Others – such as Dana Schroll, Bill Ward, Lynn Faulkner, Mark Eaton and Kathy Swearingen – are experiencing the joys of new marriages.

I’m encouraged by so many of us who aren’t letting our age get in the way of having adventures. Jane Hoover Bartlett is planning a hiking trip on an extension of the Appalachian Trail with her three sons. Dani Green Spain fulfilled her lifelong dream – inspired by Mr. Conway in high school biology – of traveling to the Galapagos Islands. Kathy Swearingen Sterbenz is taking motorcycle lessons, and Cindy Pryor Lamkin has tried ballet again – and she even has the surgical scar and rehab boot to prove it.

You know, I railed against turning 40. I don’t know about you, but turning 50 was okay. I think, at this age, you just have to figure: This is it. This is all you’ve got. It’s a realization that you can relax into, that deepens your appreciation for your life.
As many of you know, Rusty Harris has had some tough battles with illness – and I am so glad to see him here tonight. Last night we were talking at the restaurant, and he just gave a little shrug and said, “I’m a survivor.” Then he looked around at the other classmates who had gathered, and he said, “We’re all survivors.”
I guess I’d have to agree. I don’t doubt every one of us has had days, weeks, months – even years – of trials and hardships, of being rode hard and put up wet … But here we are.

And by now, we all understand it’s not always going to be that way. Frankly, I’m amazed that we’ve been able to confirm that only one of us, David Wille, has died since the last reunion. As much as I hate to say it, given the odds, I doubt we will ever have another stretch like that again.

It has dawned on me, if I keep working on these directories, that the task is only going to become more daunting, that tracking down a classmate may mean finding out he or she is no longer with us. It also has dawned on me that I can’t take for granted I’ll be around to do the tracking.

So I can’t tell you how very, very glad I am to be able to be with you all here tonight.

Thirty-five years ago, we all set off on our separate paths, but getting together in these five-year increments has turned us all into one another’s touchstones, and what a wonderful reassurance that is. Now, as we brace ourselves to keep moving along on our journeys, all I can say is, I couldn’t ask for a better group of travelers.