Death – Page 30 – All It Takes Is A Little Love

Just One More

Published on November 7, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

For centuries we have been sending young men into the abyss of war. Sometimes the causes have been noble but mostly the reasons for fighting have centered around politics that the average person found difficult to comprehend. History is stained with the very life blood of our youth. It takes great courage to volunteer to represent a country on a battlefield and even more to actually participate in a battle. It is something that most of us pray that we never have to endure and yet it has been a fact of history. Over and over again the treasure of our youth has had to bear arms against an enemy that they did not know for reasons that they may not have understood. We can almost all agree that war has and always will be hell and should be a last resort.

I am against all forms of violence. I think it morally wrong to abort babies, execute criminals and fight enemies and yet I understand that there are times when killing is the only choice to protect the innocent from danger. I am a conscientious objector up to a point. My faith tells me that if I have to choose between simply watching a despot like Adolf Hitler bullying his way across a continent or taking action to stop him with gunfire and bombs then I have every right to defend all that is good and just. I think that I might be able to set aside my gentle ways to stop such hate from spreading and I certainly commend those who put their very lives on the line in the call of duty. It is a sign of nobility to defend the innocent against aggressive tyrants and I often wonder if I would be capable of rising to such an occasion. I am in awe of those who find the grit within themselves to do so.

World War II was a nasty affair as are all wars but it bore the patina of being a just cause. Here in the United States virtually everyone in the country rallied to fight the despots from Germany, Italy and Japan. Young men joined the military at a fever pitch. High schools, universities and factories were emptied out as our youth eagerly volunteered to join the fight. Among them were my father, my uncles, and a young man from Virginia named Desmond Doss. What made Desmond a bit more unusual than most of his peers is that he was a Seventh Day Adventist who believed that it would be against God’s will to kill. Rather than registering as a conscientious objector and sitting out the war at home he decided to join with the intent of becoming a medic. With a kind of naive belief he actually thought that he would be allowed to accompany his unit without bearing arms.

His training for battle went well up until the time that he was instructed to choose a rifle and learn how to use it. When he refused to do so he became a pariah and the focus of a concerted effort to get him to simply quit. Somehow in spite of the bullying, insults and persecution that he had to endure he continued to insist that he wanted to be of service but simply could not and would not use a weapon. His conviction sent him to a military court where it was eventually ruled that he might be trained as a medic without bearing arms.

Doss’s battalion was sent to the war in the Pacific, a brutal theater where very different cultures clashed in some of the most horrific battles of that era. Their objective was to take a ridge known by the name of Hacksaw. When they arrived the fighting had already decimated entire units. The Japanese soldiers were relentless in their attacks and it seemed as though there would be no stopping them. Over a hundred and fifty thousand Japanese troops had been sent to keep possession of the area and so the battles were fierce. Doss followed his fellow soldiers as they attacked according to their orders. He provided medical aide to the wounded in the middle of a battle so bloody that it was almost overwhelming. Even after his group left to recoup for the night Doss stayed and rescued over seventy five men including some Japanese soldiers who had also been wounded. It was a miraculous and unbelievably heroic feat that earned him the respect of his brothers in arms. For the rest of his life he would tell of how he kept asking God to allow him to help just one more man to safety throughout that long and treacherous night.

Desmond Doss’s story is depicted in the movie Hacksaw Ridge, a brilliant film that brings us face to face with the sheer humanity of war. It is an homage not just to Doss but to all who risk their lives in battle. It slams the viewer into the visceral horror of fighting and asks us to imagine what soldiers have endured from the beginning of time. It forces us to consider questions of faith and to ponder our own beliefs. It is a brilliant work of art and a metaphor for both mankind’s brutality and its humanity. Through the eyes of a Godly man we see the chaos, fear and complexities of wars and those who participate in them.

I left the movie understanding that I had just seen something important. I was shaken and emotional. I thought of all of the people that I had ever known who had gone to war. I wondered what terrible and courageous things they must have seen that changed them forevermore. I realized just how fragile and strong each of us truly is. I was moved to tears as I pondered the importance of treasuring every life as a gift from God Himself. I worried that we humans have yet to find ways of resolving our differences without rancor and hate. The threat of war still looms in our hearts as long as we are unable to set aside our arms and our ugliness, as long as there is evil lurking on our planet. I contemplated our goodness as people as well. It occurred to me that there are individuals like Desmond Doss all around us, those who stand for something bigger than themselves. They quietly and peacefully work to serve us because it is right and just, not for glory or compensation. They are truly exceptional and they far outnumber those who would harm us.

Ours is a world of contradictions and uncertainty. We quietly wonder from one day to the next if we are truly living our best lives. We search for answers amidst noise and distractions. In the end we must do as Desmond Doss did in the middle of chaos. We must listen for the voice inside our souls that allows us to do just one more good thing, just one more.

His Story

Published on October 25, 2016October 24, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

US_$10_Series_2003_obverse.jpg He was a small man with a gigantic intellect. Nothing about his background might have indicated the greatness that he would achieve. He was born out of wedlock on an island in the West Indies at a time when illegitimacy was considered a curse. By the age of thirteen he was an orphan who so impressed a local benefactor that he was sent to New York to further his education. He eventually graduated from King’s College and became an up and coming lawyer. Without any wealth or influence he used his genius to be one of the driving forces behind the American Revolution and the development of the Constitution of the United States of America. He earned the undying respect and trust of George Washington and became his personal aide during the war and the first Secretary of Commerce in the early years of the nation. Certain tragic flaws led to scandal, blackmail and ultimately his death in a duel. He has been the often forgotten Founding Father known best as the face on the ten dollar bill and the man shot and killed by Aaron Burr. In truth he is the person most responsible for creating the economic foundations of the country and in many ways he is perhaps the most quintessential representative of the American citizen. His name is Alexander Hamilton.

A few years back I became fascinated by Alexander Hamilton after reading a biography by Ron Chernow that my husband had given to me for Christmas. I identified with the sheer humanity of his story. He was someone who overcame tremendous deficits through sheer will and talent. He was a man who was unafraid to fight for what he believed to be right and just and yet he was also guilty of harboring resentments and falling prey to dishonest flattery. He was supremely confident in some situations and unsure of himself in others. He was a man filled with contradictions who often allowed his unbridled ego to determine his fate. He reminded me of so many highly gifted individuals who in spite of their multiplicity of talent too often become embroiled in personal battles that destroy them. Ultimately each and everyone of us struggle with inner demons.

It seems that while I was learning about Alexander Hamilton and celebrating his complexity there was someone else coming to the same conclusions as mine. In a stroke of genius Lin-Manuel Miranda created a brilliant musical to introduce the world to this fascinating character. Mixing history with modern day rap Miranda has created a stunning chronicle of the life and times of our nation’s earliest beginnings through the story of one of its most interesting founders. Hamilton represents the nitty gritty of America from his humble birth to his tragic downfall and Miranda has captured the sheer irony of Hamilton’s life in music that brings our forefathers into the modern world with all of their glory and baggage. The play has garnered well earned critical acclaim, honors and nightly packed houses. Best of all it has brought renewed interest in Hamilton and his costars in the unfolding of America’s story.

My dream is to one day see this musical on Broadway but that will have to wait until the tickets become more affordable for an average Josephine like me. Still I would love nothing more than to travel to all of the places that served as a backdrop to Hamilton’s life and then attend a showing of the play as the grand finale to my journey back through time. I think that it would prove to be the perfect vacation. My all time favorite trips have been educational in nature and this one would be beyond incredible. Judging from the ticket calendars for Hamilton that I have studied it will be several years before I will be able to fulfill my fantasy but in the meantime it will be a fun excursion to plan.

There are many aspects of Alexander Hamilton that remind me of my own grandfather. For all intents and purposes he too was an orphan. His mother died when was only three days old and his father gave him away to a woman that he lovingly called his grandmother. No documentation confirms who his relatives actually were. It is as though he simply sprang spontaneously from the earth. When he was only thirteen the woman who had raised him died leaving him on his own. He chose an uncle to oversee his small income and even stayed for a time with his father but it was not long before he was traveling across America alone and in search of work. He used his wits and determination to survive.

Grandpa was a brilliant man who in many ways was self taught. He loved this country and exercised his right to a voice in government by regularly voting well into his one hundredth eighth year of life. Like Alexander Hamilton he refused to allow his humble birth to dictate the direction of his life. He used all available opportunities to keep himself and his family afloat even in the most difficult times. He witnessed more than one economic depression, five different wars, and every presidential race from 1878 until his death in the mid nineteen eighties. Through it all he was an optimist who believed that each passing year of his life was just a bit better than his last.

My grandfather saw our human progress as a sign that the government was working just as it had been intended. He kept the faith in America’s democracy until the very day that he died. One of his last big reads was a biography of Thomas Jefferson which he was able to discuss at length just after he turned one hundred eight. He believed that his longevity and his gifts of freedom were great treasures. He left this world with not a penny to his name but he would have insisted that he was rich. He loved his country as much as he had his family. He had weathered a lifetime of tragedy and yet he was a happy man who thought himself blessed simply for living in a place that seemed to be ever improving. His take on history was that the United States of America was slowly but surely moving forward and that we all benefit from its continual search for justice and freedom.

Right now we are in a kind of valley of fear and criticism with regard to our country. We act as though these are somehow the worst of times and yet our history demonstrates that we have been in similar circumstances before. We find the divisiveness between Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton to be deplorable and we are shocked that they won’t even shake hands. We forget that Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr were such political rivals and enemies that they ended up on a field in New Jersey to settle their differences with pistols. Hamilton was mortally wounded and Burr who had been the Vice President of the United States was charged with murder and thought to be a villain for all time. Somehow our country moved beyond such a shocking turn of events just as it always seems to do.

My grandfather was able to use the breadth of his experience to see that we may falter and even lose our momentum but we always find our way back. He realized that great men like Alexander Hamilton understood the nature of humans even when they ignored their own flaws. Together individuals from different backgrounds and alternative points of view developed a government that was capable of sustaining itself and correcting its mistakes. Over two hundred years later it’s still here and not even the bombast and prevarication will tear it down as long as we the people cherish it and continue to work to make things right just as Hamilton did so long ago. He lived and died just as we all do but what a story he left behind.

October Is Pink

Published on October 19, 2016October 18, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

download It has become traditional to focus on breast cancer each October. We are showered in pink to remind us of an horrific disease that continues to strike women in spite of our best efforts to eradicate it. Virtually everyone has known someone who had to deal with the physical and emotional effects of breast cancer. Much of the time the debilitating treatments lead to remission but all too often some lose their battle.

We are taught as young girls how to give ourselves breast exams. It is every woman’s nightmare to find something suspicious. Some of us are perennially lumpy making it more difficult to notice slight changes but we try. Most women schedule regular visits to their doctors and endure painful mammograms just to be certain that nothing is amiss. When a doctor signals that there may be a problem with a concerned look and a battery of more extensive tests women find themselves in a state of quiet panic and worry. There is nothing quite like the not knowing, the possibility of a life changing diagnosis.

I have watched friends and family members get the words that nobody wants to hear. The diagnosis of breast cancer has been confirmed. That little lump that seemed somehow different from the rest was indeed cancerous. They embark on a journey filled with uncertainty and fear. In spite of their most valiant efforts their disease overtakes their lives. Even the most optimistic among them is never quite the same.

The treatments for breast cancer vary depending on the extent and type of cancer but all of them are invasive. They cause pain and suffering. They interrupt the normal flow of life. They debilitate and challenge. We all know exceptional women whose courage somehow makes dealing with breast cancer seem far less terrible than it really is. They keep the faith, trusting in their doctors, their families and their God. They smile through the times when they are exhausted. They wear hats or wrap their heads in colorful scarves when their lovely hair falls out in great handfuls. They do their best to keep up a good front and to continue with their routines even as they feel so very sick. They are warriors of the bravest kind but there is always the deep mostly unspoken fear that the treatments will not work or that the cancer will return even after remission.

We sometimes forget how devastating breast cancer may be. We hear success stories and believe that the fixes will be rather easy and certain. We watch women working in between therapies and imagine that the process of fighting the cancer must not be as terrible as we had imagined. We notice the dark circles around their eyes and the new wigs they are sporting but we don’t see them getting sick in the bathroom or crying from the assault on their bodies and minds. We put the onus on them to keep us feeling happy with their smiles. The truth of their situation is sometimes too hard for us to face.

Long illnesses like breast cancer test relationships. The women who are embroiled in a fight for their very lives all too often lose ground in their careers and sometimes even in their marriages. Their battlefield is littered with lost opportunities and misunderstandings. They all too often feel alone. People may rally around them in the beginning but when the going gets really tough only those who truly love and understand them remain. Everything and everyone is tested. It becomes more than just a matter of medical treatments. It is an altering experience in which only what is most important becomes obvious.

While devoting an entire month to a particular cause is laudable we have to be careful that it does not have the effect of making us lose interest. We humans are funny creatures and sometimes over stimulation causes us to lose focus. When we see football players wearing pink shoes and people running marathons in pink tutus there is a risk that we will take the situation more lightly than we should. We mistake the levity as an indication that maybe breast cancer is not as worrisome as we may have thought. We wonder if all of the attention has provided so much funding that our contributions aren’t really needed. We grow weary of the reminders that are so present for thirty one days.

We have certainly gone a long way toward eradicating breast cancer and we may even reach a day when we know how to eliminate it entirely. Until then we still have far too many women having to courageously fight for their very lives. Most of them happily make it thanks to the research and the medical advances that continue to be found. Sadly some women do in fact die. We have all known them, beautiful souls taken from us by a terrible disease. It is for them that we fight, not just in October but all year long, day in and day out. It is for the mothers, sisters, girlfriends, wives everywhere that we support the efforts to find treatments and cures and ways to eliminate this dreaded disease.

October is a reminder to all of us to embrace and support the women who are either presently dealing with breast cancer or who have had to deal with it in the past. Let them speak honestly of their ordeal. Allow them to cry or laugh or react however they wish. Let them know that we are thinking of them and that we love them. If you are a woman use this month to check on your own health. Take the time to schedule a mammogram or visit your doctor. Be proactive and sensitive.

I can see the beautiful faces of the women I have known who have grappled with the monster we call breast cancer. They are perhaps the bravest people that I have ever encountered. I salute them and the families who walked hand in hand with them. They have inspired all of us who watched them. This is their month. This is our month. It is October and we gird ourselves for battle. It matters little what color we wear as long as we are prepared to fight. We must never become complacent. The stakes are just too high.

Cancer of any kind is horrific. I lost both of my grandmothers to cancer. My beloved mother was a victim of cancer. A dear dear friend was taken by cancer. A beautiful cousin is undergoing treatments for cancer even as I write these words. A good friend is fighting cancer with all of his might. My hope is that they will be among the victors that I have also known, the people who made it through the dark hours and now bask in the sunlight of their personal miracles. Find those in your circle who are battling whether it be breast cancer or lymphoma or cancer of the lung. Embrace them. Remember them. Most of all love them.

Brothers and Sisters For All Time

Published on October 17, 2016October 16, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

14715452_10210431674649282_4125192097874582664_o-1 The dictionary definition of family is “a group of people related by blood or marriage.” Such a description is far too limiting. We often extend the breadth of our relationships to include special friendships that are as deep and endearing as those we share with our kin. We feel bound to such people by sharing common experiences and traditions. We especially form deep and abiding friendships when we are young. The common history of our youth makes particular people feel like our brothers and sisters. Just as with those who come from our same DNA, the individuals who walk with us day after day for a time may leave, but they are never forgotten. Somehow they live in our hearts even when we do not have them near. Such it is with my family from Mt. Carmel High School.

Fifty years is a very long time, five decades, half a century. When I was a teenager it was difficult to even imagine such a long passage of the calendar but I have indeed walked through those fifty years since my graduation from high school. Before that day of long ago I had spent eight to ten hours five days every week inside a brick and mortar building with the same people. Our journey together lasted four years. We shared the same lessons and traditions. We learned together, laughed together and sometimes even cried together. We cheered for our heroes of the gridiron, baseball diamond, track and basketball court. We slowly discovered the people and the ideas that interested us. We formed circles of friends and lived through all of the adolescent peaks and valleys. We became a family.

In my home away from home I grew from a gangly little girl afraid of her own shadow to a pensive young woman wondering what life had in store for me and my classmates. I wondered about all of those questions that occur to most teens. What would I become? Would I have an exciting career? Would I ever marry? Would I have children? Would I become rich or famous? Would I have a good life? I never thought about death or illness. Those things seemed to be the purview of the old, not something that I would encounter for a very long time.

Life took hold of me and my classmates after we had finished our school days and one year grew into two and then ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty. I thought of the people who had been with me in my formative years now and again. I wondered where they were and how they were. I intended to keep up with them but something always seemed to distract me. The phone would ring. One of my children would need my attention. My job would demand my time. My mother would need me to care for her. The excuses always came and so I did not see most of the people who had been so much a part of my life but I never forgot how much they had meant to me.

A couple of years ago along came a beautiful soul that I had known since I was a little girl, Carol. I had been in the Brownies with her and her twin sister, Cindy. We celebrated First Communion together and went all the way through high school only to lose track for all those many years after graduation day. Carol came to some of us almost fifty years later with an idea. She wanted to have a fabulous reunion for our class. It was to be in honor of her sister who had tragically died from ALS. It would be a way to remember Cindy and our other friends who had already left this earth. It would remind us of our youth and the importance of living our lives to the fullest. It would provide us with a way to embrace each other once again.

Carol worked diligently with a group of people determined to find every last soul who had been in the Class of 1966. Terry, Susan, Mickey, Paul, Shirley, Ruth, Judy, Monica, Linda, Jim, Jeannette, Tad, Tommy, Donald and Chris began meeting over a year ago to plan a celebration to remember. Sadly Chris left the world this summer but his impact and generous spirit kept the group inspired. On Saturday night the fruits of this committee’s labors came to fruition as we all gathered together in a love fest that none of us will ever forget.

There were so many stories to share on Saturday night. Some of them were joyful. Others were heartbreaking. I learned of successes and disappointments, happiness and loss. I found that my classmates are people of uncommon conviction, optimism and courage. They have faced down challenges and accomplished great things. They have led the kind of lives that all of us value. They are happy even as they have endured the ups and downs that are inevitable in a span of fifty years. We have all matured and learned what is truly important. We realized in visiting with one another that the ties that bound us so long ago are a special part of whom we will always be. We are truly family in every sense of the word, brothers and sisters for all time.

In the excitement of reuniting we have made promises that we will not let the time run away from us ever again. I hope that we honor that commitment. We have learned that life is precious and fragile and unpredictable and that we must reach out and grab every opportunity to be with the people who were and always will be so important to us. We have always been intertwined even as we branched out in different directions.

Our reunion was a happy and moving experience for all of us. We laughed and cried tears of joy and remembrance. Our celebration was perfect in every way. The love that we felt for one another was palatable and the spirit of our departed friends was ever present. We heard their laughter in our hearts and knew that they were especially happy that we had once again come together. We will forever be grateful for the opportunity that we had to learn that everyone is mostly okay. I’d like to believe that we will have many more chances to come together again. I know that I intend to do all that I can to keep our renewed friendships alive. They are important enough to merit our time and attention. Carol understood that and showed us how it is done.

Let the Celebrating Begin

Published on October 14, 2016October 13, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

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It has been fifty years since the Mt. Carmel High School Class 0f 1966 left the school gymnasium after graduation. We departed with high hopes and good intentions and the clock on our lives began ticking far more quickly than we might have imagined. Some among us served in the military. Others went to college. There were those who married and started families, some who focused on careers. We navigated through the ups and downs of life, experiencing the milestones of human existence. All the while we remembered those years when we were young. Our days in high school had at times been filled with angst and at others with joy. As teenagers we had felt hurts and victories. As full fledged adults we mostly moved past our immaturities and hangups to mellow into acceptance of ourselves just as we are. We became able to gaze into the mirror past all of the flaws and truly like the people that we had become. Somehow all we now need to know about our former classmates is that each among us has found happiness. We have embraced the contentment that comes with wisdom and age and grace.

Tomorrow evening we will gather together for our fiftieth reunion. It will be good to see one another again and to hear the stories of what happened to everyone as the decades passed. Our old friends will be there and some will bring their spouses, people that we have yet to meet but will most surely enjoy. We will view photos of travels, children and grandchildren. We will learn about jobs and hobbies and all of those things that weave together the fabric of our lives. None of us will look the same. Regardless of how well we have aged fifty years leave an imprint on our faces and our outlooks. We are now just as we once were and yet different. The essence of our youthfulness is still in our hearts but our experiences will have changed us.

I lost track of so many people after graduation day. I was busy earning a college degree, raising a family, teaching and caring for my mother who developed chronic mental illness shortly after I had finished high school. Like most people my days were filled with responsibilities from dawn until I fell asleep at night. I had little time for pursuits outside of my family and my work but I have enjoyed a long and lovely friendship with Linda Daigle Scheffler that thankfully continues to this day. Our children grew up together taking swimming lessons, watching football games and celebrating birthdays, graduations, marriages. We have met at Christmas to exchange ornaments and gifts virtually every year since our children were born with few exceptions. Monica Krider Watzak has been by my side from the time that I was a tiny girl. She was one of the first people that I met on the playground in second grade back at Our Lady of Mount Carmel Elementary. Her children also grew up with mine. We have gone on trips together and stood by each other in times both good and bad. Nancy Gracey was one of the bridesmaids in my wedding. We played bridge together on Fridays and finished sentences for each other. She eventually moved away and we lost touch for years only to reunite as though it had only been five minutes since our last meeting. I continue to encounter Susan McKenna Bolduc, another of my bridesmaids, time and again at funerals for classmates and their parents. Judy Loisey is often there as well demonstrating the same warmth of heart that was her trademark in high school. Of course I also encounter Tommy Darst who has so graciously helped so many Mt. Carmel families during times of greatest sorrow.

Mostly though I lost track of the one hundred forty three souls with whom I had shared so much during those critical four years of my life. From time to time I heard stories about them but somehow I never crossed paths with them even though I must have surely been moving through the same places where they had been. It was only through the miracle of Facebook that I have slowly reignited friendships with former classmates, sometimes finding surprising kinship with those that I barely knew when I was young. I have enjoyed reading about their trips and adventures and seeing their beautiful children and grandchildren. I’ve even appreciated the great variety of their political persuasions. Nobody can ever say that we were brainwashed at Mt. Carmel High School. Everyone has a mind of his/her own. Mostly though I have marveled at how wonderful we all became. We are good people who took the lessons that we learned at Mt. Carmel High School to heart no matter where in the world we landed.

I get excited just thinking about the possibility of seeing so many of my classmates tomorrow night. The guest list has swelled to a hundred or more including curious spouses who have no doubt heard so many stories about our Class of 1966. I get both giddy and nervous when I think about seeing them in person again after all these years.

Even though there were once one hundred forty four of us. Not everyone has made it this far. Before we had even been gone for ten years some among us had already died from cancer or accidents. Others have gone from us more recently. They had hoped to be with us for our celebration but the good Lord saw fit to take them. Each time we have heard of a death among our old friends it has brought us great sadness. We remember when they were so bright and beautiful. We know that they meant so much to their families and to us.

When I was a young mom buying shoes for my little girls Mrs. Lippies used to ask me to pray for her son Kerry who had cancer. Sadly he did not make it. He was one of the first among us to die. I was broken apart when Bill Bailey was killed in a freak accident in Galveston. Not long ago I heard that a colleague of mine at St. Christopher’s School had lost her husband who also happened to be one of my classmates, Frank Fox, a wonderful man who had been so loved by his wife and children. I followed Cindy Cash Criss’s medical progress as she fought ALS. I loved seeing her images of kitties on Facebook and I marveled at her courage and optimism as she dealt with the devastating effects of that terrible disease. I know how much she wanted to make it to the reunion but that was not to be. Instead many of us gathered at her memorial and came together for the first time in years. We knew that she had been the catalyst for beginning our journey to the celebration that we will enjoy tomorrow. Somehow her spirit will be there with us, hoping that we love and laugh the way she always did. Chris Nixon had overcome many heath problems and came faithfully to the early planning meetings for the reunion. He too was called to heaven sooner than we had hoped. Many of us attended his funeral only months ago and cried together for a dear sweet friend.

I had lost track of my friend and high school confidante, Claudia Dean Langguth for well over forty years. When we were teenagers we had shared our deepest secrets and dreams. I had thought that ours would be a lifetime of togetherness but circumstances pulled us apart. When I recently searched for her I learned that she had died only a year ago. I wish that I had been able to tell her how much she had meant to me. I would have liked to let her know that I loved her.

Others who meant much to me are also gone. David Patton and I often competed with one another academically. I knew in my heart that he was my intellectual superior but I would never have admitted that to him. A few years back he began to email me after he had suffered from a stroke. It was sad to know that his brilliant mind had been diminished. I hope that I gave him a bit of comfort with my responses to his communications. I was crushed to learn of his death.

In school our teachers usually seated us in alphabetical order. I sat behind John Kurtz for four years and got to know him well enough to have a secret crush on him. He once told me that his juvenile diabetes would curtail his life prematurely. I was too young and inexperienced to believe that he knew the truth. I shook my head and told him that he was being silly. Unfortunately he was not wrong and left this earth far too soon for such a good man.

The list of those who have already entered the kingdom of God is longer than I would want it to be. There are about twenty four souls who have already died and will be watching over us as we convene this weekend. They will remind us that life is a treasure that we must embrace before the opportunity to do so has left us. In our minds they will be forever young and as lovely and energetic as they were on that May day of long ago when none of us were able to imagine the roads that we would travel or that fifty years would go by so quickly. They are gone but never forgotten. We can still see Janice Repsdorph as the amazing athlete that she always was. We will remember Dorothy Wheeler Cox and her sweet smile and loving presence. In our hearts we’ll think of Diane Martin in all of her glorious beauty and generous spirit. Each of them touched our hearts.

Our lives have been blessed. We are all fine people who have contributed to the benefit of our families, our friends and our communities. We have remembered what is most important and have lived the way our teachers had hoped that we would. When we left on that May in 1966 we understood that we had been called to work for the benefit of all mankind. We have kept the promises that we made. Now it is time to remember and appreciate all of the people who helped us to arrive at this remarkable place in time. Let the celebrating begin.