The Coast News Group
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Waterspot

To the class of 2025

I graduated high school in 1966, and while I recall that warm evening down to the color of my sport coat, I have no memory of anything the keynote speaker said, or, more likely, read. It was no “we were the best and brightest and would carry forward the promises of our forebears and make everyone proud.” How could the speaker know that the coming reality was nothing like that he, or any of us, had ever imagined.

1966 turned out to be a pivotal year for Western culture as we moved away from the American dreams of our parents into something we thought we had discovered. As the first fruits of a new human race, we would be free from war, hunger and even boredom. We would beat swords into plowshares.

Our lives exploded into paisley patterns where the idea of an endless summer proved to be more than a movie title. We worked as little as possible and sacrificed whatever joy there was in luxury houses and cars in favor of good waves and good friends. Some found drugs. Some recovered from drugs. Some died. Two of my close friends died in Vietnam, and half a dozen others never recovered from the trauma they encountered there.

The worst and most common wounds, however, were not from enemy bullets, but were self-inflicted. Alcohol was out; psychedelics were in. For most, that was a round trip. Some seemed to benefit from the experience while for others it was an endlessly downward spiral staircase leading to a blind alley of madness and depression.

By the age of 25, I could count 14 friends who had died from alcohol-related mishaps or drugs, mostly pills like the then popular Seconal reds. I still cry in the pain of losing so many loved ones. Worse than that, it was preventable.

At the risk of sounding like a curmudgeonly fool, I need to send out a warning shot, a list that has proven valuable over my many years:

  • Take the narrow road that leads to life.
  • Live as if this day were among your last.
  • Make friends of your enemies, if possible.
  • Never shy away from telling someone you love them.
  • Find work that makes you enjoy Monday morning as much as you do Friday night.
  • If possible, avoid vice. If not possible, limit your vices. (Trust me, they are easy to acquire and difficult to shake.)
  • Think long and hard before branding yourself with a permanent mark.
  • Ride every wave that comes your way and learn to endure and maybe even enjoy life’s wipeouts.
  • Buckle up because the ride will get rough at times.

On the morning of our 14th birthdays, my dad would drive each of his four children to downtown LA’s Skid Row. There, we saw people lying drunk in the street, often unable to afford the 50-cent a night flop houses advertised throughout the neighborhood. I had never witnessed homelessness before, and so I asked, “Dad, what’s the matter with these people?”

“They’re winos,” he said, using the vernacular of the time. That short drive lasted a lifetime for me, my sister and two brothers. The trip is a lot shorter than the ones I’ve made to the cemetery. Before you step into adulthood, drink in all that is good in the world.

Here’s to the class of 2025! May you find a world as endlessly wondrous as I did and still do. This is a wonderful place, especially when viewed through clear eyes.

 

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