Learning From the Yale Class of '45

This isn't morbid, I promise. But it does involve the recently deceased.

Like many a fancy college that hopes to keep its alumni engaged (and perhaps donating), Yale publishes a monthly magazine filled with lively articles and, at the end, page after page of "Class Notes." Arranged by year of graduation, these are short updates from folks on what they've been up to in the years — and decades — since commencement.

There's some humble-bragging and some that's pretty unvarnished. As a "Yale '81" gal, I read these with a mixture of joy, envy and eye-rolling. But as juicy as I find my classmates' lives, it's the notes from the oldest guys (and they were all guys back then) that I find most moving. And instructive.

And so, I read in the Class of 1945 notes that Jerome Medalie of Deadham, Massachusetts, died this June in his 97th year. "In 1944 he enlisted in the U.S. Navy... and later served in the Pacific where he was a navigator on an aircraft carrier," according to the magazine. After college he worked in a hardware store and helped organize the American Veterans Committee. Then on to law school he went, becoming an assistant U.S. attorney. I guess it was his government work that led him to start a Yale class about money in American politics, and he worked on end-of-life issues, too. Upon retirement, he and his wife went on a yearlong, cross-country RV trip.

OK, here's another one: Philip F. Corso, class of '48, passed away at age 95. He arrived at Yale on full scholarship, joining the college boxing team and playing intramural baseball. He went on to med school, served in Korea, and became a plastic surgeon, helping veterans, burn victims, kids with cleft palates, and so on. But throughout his life, Corso also "had a passion for hunting, traveling, reading and telling jokes."

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One more: Lee Young, class of '49, majored in physics, then went on to earn a Ph.D. in physics — and philosophy! He helped build the Cambridge Electron Accelerator. But he also wrote a book, "At Home with G od: Here and Now," and sang in the church choir. When he retired, he and his wife ran an antiques business and traveled around New England.

The throughline here?

All these men were not just one thing. Their lives took many paths, some super-prestigious — lawyer, surgeon, physicist — and some just average Joe, like taking RV trips, or telling jokes. One guy in the Class of '49 played trumpet in an amateur jazz group that entertained at the local senior center. Another served on his town's planning commission. Class notes tells us that John S. Johnson loved the poetry and prose of World War 1. James "Jim" Wolf wrote guidebooks to local trails. Dave Powell held cookouts in the middle of winter, enjoyed by friends and family "who had no idea drinking sherry and eating a burger in the freezing cold could be so much fun."

Maybe you just don't get to your late 80s or 90s without relishing a lot of activities just because here you are on earth, and certain things grab you. And then, when you bid adieu, darned if those things don't end up meriting as many sentences as, "Graduated Harvard Medical School," or, "Director of..." whatever.

The lesson for those of us yet to reach our eighth, ninth or even 10th decade? Be like Jerome, and Philip, and Dave. Enjoy the leaves as they change color. Or screw the leaves and stay inside reading the poetry you love. Or fire up the grill in February and invite the family. And if they wonder what's the occasion, it's simple.

You're alive.