My college class was small. I think we were 140 or so when we arrived on campus in 1963, and around 126 at graduation. We all knew each other, of course. A little more than 50 years on, we continue to care about each other. College classmate Ceil and her husband Phil live a short distance from La Jolla beach, and they very kindly drive in to have lunch with me on our annual family spring break trips there.
There’s something precious about time spent with people you knew growing up, or in that important transition from adolescent to adult that happens in college, or shortly thereafter.
Ceil and I have led rather different lives. She’s worked for the Diocese of San Diego for many years, planning to retire this fall. Phil is a therapist in private practice. Catholicism has continued to be important to them in a way that it is not for me. And yet we share a great deal in terms of values, in terms of commitment to social justice, and in our progressive politics. We celebrated both our similarities and our differences. We caught up on our respective families. We shared some books that have been recently meaningful.
The time flew by.