St Raphael Class of 1960: August 2025

It takes real imagination to understand reality. You can't truly see a forest while in a forest; you can't see a landscape if you're in the middle of it.

It wasn’t printed on the invitation. It wasn’t poured into a glass at the bar. And yet, it filled the room—subtle, intangible, but weighty, like breath held just before a memory surfaces. This was more than a gathering; it was transcendental, a rediscovery of where we have been and who we have become.

Imagine that when we graduated in 1960, we would get together 65 years later and still connect in that same adolescent way. Moreover, connecting at a deeper level—sharing the camaraderie of high school while also sharing life’s long, winding journey of 65 years. That's magic. Reminisce, way back to 65 years ago—imagine classmates at age 83 laughing in the same way and sharing 65 years of their life's journey.

So that's what was in the air on July 31 in the Lobster Pot in Bristol, Rhode Island. This ethereal sparkle was spiritual and quantum-like in nature. Time travel is a core quantum physics dilemma. It’s not that difficult to experience: just talk to Leo Crosby, whom you haven't seen in 65 years, and pick up the discussion about his layup in basketball—at which he was an expert. In an instant, you’re back, reliving the moment of 65 years ago, and you just time-traveled 65 years in less than a moment. Whoever said quantum time travel was so mysterious?

Most of our hair has turned silver, and our posture no longer holds the effortless grace of youth, yet the connection between us remains unbroken—vibrant, alive, and startlingly fresh. Time has softened some edges and deepened others, but the stories we share return as if they happened only yesterday.

I grew up in Pawtucket’s Fairlawn, on Grotto Avenue. I went to visit, but there was no one there. It's an empty feeling as I realize it's no longer home. I go there, and it feels hollow.

On July 31, it struck me that home was the Lobster Pot in Bristol, Rhode Island. But not the physical restaurant. The bigger and more transcendent reality is that home is with my classmates from 1960. When I look out the window and see the Narragansett Bay and glance across the room and see my silver-haired classmates laughing like 65 years ago—that's home. It was great to be home.