REUNION (PART II)

MAY 29, 2026 – The intensity of today’s reunion activities revealed that yesterday’s engagements were in the wading end of the pool. Today we all swam in much deeper waters, starting with chatting up a storm over breakfast and in the case of seven of us, turning off the lights on the last conversations of the second day of the four-day extravaganza.

The program included offerings well beyond any single participant’s capacity.  The printed schedule reminded me of an overloaded power strip, with multiple extension cords attached to numerous three-way plugs in all six outlets on the strip: a classic case of outlet overload.

After a crowd scene of alumni partaking in five-part smorgasbord of breakfast food, many of us ‘76ers boarded a caravan of coaches for the half-hour ride to the rocky shore of Casco Bay. There began our ride aboard a day-steamer for a fair-weather cruise into a living postcard of  Maine’s classic maritime scenery. Under normal circumstances, the sights would’ve been reward enough, but in the event, the grand takeaway was not the perfect photo could’ve been taken but wasn’t. The most memorable part of the trip was the three-and-a-half hours of conversation with too many people to recall at this late hour.

Few of the interactions were complete. Most were fragmentary, similar to a wine-tasting party, where many samples are tried but none is swallowed. This pattern continued throughout the day, irrespective of setting. The net effect was a sugar rush to the brain, as people talked and listened and learned, but with an after-rush longing to continue incomplete conversations that can never be complete.

By our age, people have climbed their mountains and staked their deserved claims above the timberline. Hailing from the verdant foothills, as I do, I gaze upon the lofty peaks and admire the efforts of the many classmates who’ve conquered summits I will never reach. Yet, all regret and envy that I might’ve felt at an earlier age have been replaced by awe and respect.

At our age, actuarial tables produce a unifying effect—increased awareness, if not full acceptance, of our mortality. But amidst this cheerful and engaging crowd, my faith in the country is improved. Simply stated, here are a lot of really good people who’ve done a lot of really good things with their lives—not for fame or recompense but out of dedication to something well beyond such fleeting results.

And in meeting younger alumni and student ambassadors, my confidence increases. If we think the country is on the rocks, we need to see our nation as a boat still afloat and propelled by enough hands to row the vessel away from rocks and shoals. (Cont.)

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© 2026 by Eric Nilsson