THE CLASS of 1945's 25th Anniversary Report is filled with sad tales, most of which are variations on the theme of "survived the army: returned for my degree: went into business-insurance-finance where I am now associate director of internal operations: married my wife and have three kids and a dog: we like to ski and vacation in the Carribean." Some of the variations, as can only be expected when covering the lives of 1000 people, are bizarre.

One gentleman is recalled by a classmate to have been a Jew who dressed up in preppy clothes and "snuck" into a Final Club, from which exalted position he was constantly threatened with exposure by old high school friends. Now he reports he's a member of the John Birch Society and believes in Karma and reincarnation. Another hopes to send his sons to Harvard and therefore calls himself an optimist, except for his belief that overpopulation will destroy the world before the year 2000. One appears to have achieved reincarnation in this life, being cross-referenced as both Joseph D. MacDonald and Donald Eliot Marks.

One writes that his body is slowly rejecting its own liver. Another writes modestly that he has "pursued a business career," without reporting whether or not he has found it.

And so it goes. Now 378 of the 942 living members of the Class of 1945 have returned for their 25th. And on these damp June evenings of 1970, as they support each other (and their wives) tweedily, unsteadily, and arthritically up the paths to their headquarters in the Freshman Union after heavy afternoons of reminiscing and imbibing, surely someone must realize how unlikely it all is-that the whole thing can't go on much longer.

Surely someone. But not Hugh Calkins. Lofting a FunFest '45 beer can, he says, "I don't see any reason not to have a reunion." To which Bob T.P. Storer can only add. "A successful guy has lots of friends. I think it's just great."