Into this world, hardy alums return out of that tight-knit class of '49, 103 stalwarts strong. Former teenaged sports stars and straight-A students alike are back, now grandfathers, white-haired in their late 60s, some elegantly bearded, many just retired. These '49ers are unrecognizable from school days except for their voices and smarts, which change little. Their smiles and greetings echoed by those of their spouses light up the night, echoed by those of their spouses.

Reacquaintance with school and classmates, some out of touch for half a century, warm camaraderie, shared pleasantries, the alumni clan radiates good vibes, sending bad ones off into the outgoing tide.

Over wine glasses come reminiscences of our student era's quirks little noted in the prep-school yearbooks: the harsh first-year ordeal of trying to cope with the incredible academic pace; the "lost spring" when some vandalized parking meters during a power failure produced a long crackdown on the whole student body; the far too few victories of our football team against our rival's powerhouses. In this era of Littleton/Columbine, that time of 1940s student life comes across as an age of innocence.

The reunion's old-timers attend an awards ceremony at an Assembly, alongside the student body of 1,000 plus. Youth and ambition next to age and experience meet, not clash, each with its story to tell.

Students now are far more diverse — the school went coed, admitting many more minority and foreign students too. The kids are more communicative, speaking to elders openly about likes, peeves, critiques and, yes, even personal vulnerability and feelings. The kids also seem brighter than before, something we never thought possible. An advanced math class, attended at random, takes up topics like fractals once reserved for university grad students.

Pessimism may rule the nation's headlines, but there's a lot of hope in these teenagers. Will their reactions of astonishment be the same as ours when they return for their 50th, in that unplumbed galaxy of 2049's mindsets as they encounter post-Y2K youth?

The old-timers sound upbeat, even after the solemn service commemorating more than 60 colleagues taken away by Father Time. Later they tell anecdotes and remember friends and inspiring teachers long gone. They tell of grand trips and grandchildren. They look ahead eagerly to projects unfulfilled and incomplete, those creative engines that drive heart and soul and help assure continuity. Retirement brings many not to a finish, but rather to a new starting line.

The chapel bell rings, classes go on, and the student's world turns. It may offer a dense-packed blend of physics, psychology, painting, piano and paperback-lit, plus PCs, pizzas and parties. Proud fourth-year students already think ahead to their humble freshman status in lofty colleges just months away.

The other sex takes on a new look as spring erupts. Young people stroll by, hand in hand, while others exchange chaste primavera kisses under the noonday sun. Oblivious Frisbee players sprout and leap in emerald-green Front Street lawns. A budding pianist across the way in a practice room reels off, with ineffable beauty, snatches of Chopin's Waltz in C Sharp Minor-the same piece I'd learned here a half-century ago and would gladly spirit away to a desert-island marooning any time.

Despite a few heads in the clouds, youth has its feet on the ground. So have the visiting vets. Time roars on speeding each to different destinies rapt with optimism and renewal, new commitments in a society that needs them all. Even the ghostly railroad station is turning into a vital phoenix revived. "They've been working on it and they'll be starting passenger service again in the fall," says a local lady in front of the historic Town Hall. "Things are looking up."

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