| Days Until Graduation |
|
| Class of 2027 |
|
| Class of 2028 |
|
| Class of 2029 |
|
| Class of 2030 |
|
| Days Since Graduation |
|
| Class of 1975 |
|
| Days Since 5 July 1971 |
|
|
Last year Don Byers, Rudy Roth, Ric Lewallen, and Dean Cox were wondering what they would do for their annual get-together and Rudy said, “I know, let’s walk 75 miles on a dusty trail in Europe. This guy told me about a world-famous pilgrimage called Camino de Santiago that sounds like it’s just the kind of thing four thrill-seeking septuagenarians would jump at.” If you haven’t heard of the world-famous pilgrimage before, then consider this the enlightenment portion of this quarter’s column and let Google fill in the blanks. The intrepid foursome walked the Camino Frances route, one of many different ways to get to Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in northwest Spain, and they completed the necessary distance to receive certificates noting their achievement. In case you’re wondering what the purpose of the pilgrimage is, Camino de Santiago means Way of St. James, and the Apostle James is said to be buried in Santiago. Shortly after this issue of Checkpoints hits the streets, Don, Rudy, Ric, and Dean will be taking in the sights at Antelope Canyon and other vistas in the area near Page, AZ. The amount of walking required will be greatly reduced.
It appears Paul and Sheri Kent are facing the same conundrum most gracefully aging couples bump into when the house has too many stairs, and the kids are unwilling to transport the grandkids over two state borders every weekend. The Kents will be relocating from their home for the last 50 years in the beautiful Pacific Northwest to an area with a slightly higher population density, fires, floods, and earthquakes, i.e. Southern California, this fall. In Paul’swords: “The reason; our offspring. Specifically, both our children and grandchild number 3 on the way. Wife Sheri, aka Granny Nanny, is pretty adamant about it, so I guess I’ll go with her. Might be best to be around someone to look after our affairs in our twilight years. ‘Twilight Years’ being defined by me as: never being able to drive the golf ball further than 185 yards, and probably taking a riding 
cart even on flat municipal courses.” Paul puts the onus on the offspring who are obviously holding the grandkids hostage, and the adamancy of a wife who has put up with him for several decades, but the real key is the phrase “so I guess I’ll go with her.” Translation: I wouldn’t survive a week on my own. It’ll all work out in the end, and he won’t need to worry about 185-yard drives because it’s easier to win the lottery than to get a tee time in SoCal.
