An excerpt from John Hunter’s toast at the 50th Reunion (we are leaving out the funny parts to protect the guilty):

As I was putting this together, I spent a couple of days collecting stories from my 20 years living overseas. They are very funny and you would have enjoyed them but then I thought the 50th reunion of one of the significant years of our lives deserved more reflection than that. So, I asked myself what made that year so special? I came up with three things; the city, the Italians and the friendships.

There are hundreds of study abroad programs and we could have gone to London, Frankfurt or Geneva but, for whatever reasons, we went to Rome and what a great choice that was! The Alitalia flight began not just an adventure but a turning point, for no one came home the same. Crowded green buses leading us down the Trionfale to the center of a world that would change our lives with its artistry, history and magic. Rome, where an endless array of public strikes made just getting a letter from home a very special moment. Rome, where we were surrounded by forever but where forever passed in the blink of an eye. “Campfire girls,” Christmas in Piazza Navona, St. Peter’s and the Sistine Chapel, Giolitti’s, the Trevi Fountain at night, Max’s Bar and how many people can you really get into a Cinquecento?

The poet Tibullus first called Rome the “Eternal City” in the 1st century and 2000 years later it still is the Eternal City. If you go back to Rome today, it is a bit more crowded, but it is the exact same city it was when we were there. And the Rome of 1973 was the exact same Rome of 1900. The art of Caravaggio, da Vinci and Raphael, the architecture of Bernini and Michelangelo, the ancient history of the Colosseum, the Pantheon and the Forum were all there for us to experience, for us to share, for us to remember. Intense world discovery that, perhaps, has never been again. That would not have been the same in London, Frankfurt or Geneva.

Remember your first train ride north, as you crossed into France, Austria or Switzerland, the air turned cool and fresh, the mountains loomed and the towns became clean and crisp, everything seemed to work without a problem  and you thought to yourself, “I should have gone to school someplace else.” But bit by bit the chaos, workings and grime of Rome became home and what fun it was! That would not have been the same in London, Frankfurt or Geneva.

And the Italian people. For us tight-lipped, relatively unemotional Anglo-Saxons, what a joy to experience. Yes, we had the Trionfale mother ship to return to but every time we ventured out it was inescapable how the people of Rome could turn life’s everyday moments into a spectacle. Sometimes joy, sometimes anger but nothing passed as dull and nothing passed without the full spectrum of emotion. Masters of a show, perhaps masters of illusion, they know how to turn life’s dull and insignificant moments into a spectacle. Remember a little fender bender. First the Municipal police show up, then the Regional police show up and finally the Feds show up in their jodhpurs and Alpha Romeos. Meanwhile a crowd has gathered and everyone is taking sides. The art of a public performance. The creation of a show. This is what Italians excel at. Art, architecture, decoration, fashion, opera, gardens - la bella figura. And we got to share it all. And who didn’t sit next to an Italian on a train and within 30 minutes know everything there was to know about their family or job or politics and even their problems? Feelings and emotions, so overwhelming they must be shared. That would not have been the same in London, Frankfurt or Geneva.

And finally, beautiful palm trees ushered us in when we had no idea of the friends we’d make, some for a year some for life, or the loves we’d all share.  Some of us fell in love with an individual. Some of us fell in love with each other and some of us, perhaps for the very first time, fell in love with ourselves and the person we had become through our time in Rome. Volleyball, classes in pajamas, school trip to Russia, trips to the Forum, weekend trips that started on Thursday and ended on Tuesday, quiet conversations at 3 in the morning, traveling together to the ends of Europe and beyond, the student guitars of a love-filled mass never to be forgotten and in the blink of an eye, the bitter-sweet final all night on the balconies because no one wanted it to end. Intense, personal, discovery that, perhaps, has never been again.

I’ll close now with a passage from our yearbook, 50 years ago:

We have seen flashes of faces
Reappearing to remind of the past
Stop now—Reflect the changes and the loves
Vision from afar yourself
Knowing those who have turned your heart and your life,
Someone long ago called them friends.