Great 68

Mary
and I would like to thank everyone for being here with us tonight. It is really
incredible to me that so many of our dear friends could come together to
celebrate the Great 68. Our son, Chris, asked how we were able to get so many
of my classmates to turnout, to which his mother replied, “free drinks”.

I’m
not sure if it was the same for everybody here, but by June of 68 there was no
doubt that the best four years of my life had just come to a close. I had
enjoyed some truly great experiences with an amazing group of people, and best
of all, I had met the woman that I would marry.

It
seemed like all of a sudden everything changed. 
I had a 54 hour work week, other responsibilities, grad school classes,
and rent to pay. I will confess to you tonight for the first time publicly that
I suffered from depression my first year away from campus. All right, maybe it
wasn’t clinical depression, but certainly a funk. ..and the major reason for it
was…none of you were there. Gone were the days when any time of the day or
night no matter what you wanted to do, there was someone to do it with, even if
it meant just choking down a beer.  Sure,
I missed the things that we did, but
most of all, I missed the people who made those times special.

As
spring of 68 drew to a close, there was no shortage of guys to have a beer
with, and it seemed like almost everyone had a nick name. Look around you
tonight.  Forty three years later, men in
their mid sixties are still being called Gibby, Flame, Wheels, Rock, Cuz, Rabbit,
Heater, Dirk, Baby Earl, Skip, Daisy, X, Lunch, and if they could be here with
us tonight, Duke and Kemo. Though the names were uttered with affection, not
everyone could have a cool name like Wheels or Duke. I remember sending one of
our classmates a letter to his home over Christmas break senior year, addressed
to Mr. Lloyd D. B. Adams. His mother, as luck would have it, received the mail
and of course asked Lloyd what the initials D. B. stood for. He told his mom
that D. B. was an abbreviation for his nick name….Douche Bag. “No, Mom, its all
right. Douche Bag is a term of affection. They all love me,…really”.

I
feel like I have a huge amount to be thankful for. I have had a wonderful life.
Next to my simply amazing family, high on the list of what I appreciate most is
the wonderful friends that I have. You being here tonight pays witness to how
very special this group is. You truly are the Great 68.

We
are grateful:

For
the joy, laughter, and good times that you have brought into our lives,

For
nights well spent at the Library, Nicolas, the Bird, and Corbys

For
parties in the fishbowl and keggers in the bomb shelter.

For
the inter hall football champs of Sorin Hall.

For
our fifteenth reunion with multiple moon shots and Donna dancing on the bar.

For
social commissioner Bryan Dunigan, without whose efforts we would not have been
together nearly as often

For
golf at Timber Trails and pizza at Longfield Hill 

For
rugby, which enriched the Notre Dame experience

For
trips to Cal Berkley and Jamaica.

For
the Ireland trip; Eamon de Valera in the rose garden; a coal miners pub on Good
Friday night; a new dance sensation at Arthur’s Pub; a bath half given to
Francis Malloy; Irish flags and Irish songs; Bill and Mary Jane, Honest and
Annie.

For
Captain America
on the big top.

For
the Era of Ara

For
Frisbee on the main quad on the one sunny day each spring

For
the solitude of the grotto

For
these and so many other great times together, we are grateful.

Thanks!
Thanks for the memories!

– Sandy Carrigan, June 17, 2011, Evanstson, IL