There we were, the mighty seniors, in our assigned seats on the quadrangle, garbed in our blue and white caps and gowns, eagerly waiting for our diplomas. It was June 1966, a bitter sweet moment. Anxious to get out and make our mark on the world, we had cleaned out our lockers for the last time. Then it hit us; this was it, the day we'd longed for, and we were never coming back. We sat there waiting for our name to be called that summer's eve, and reflected on those three memory-packed years of high school.  

What years they were! Our victories outweighed our defeats. We saw another football trophy added (the ACAL championship under Coach Crawley), Dress Down Day revisited (as we tried out our political muscles for an important right), and school spirit was never higher than when we roamed the halls.

We discovered new passions in the clubs we linked up with. Thespians, Future Teachers, Pep Club, Quill and Scroll, Dance Band...There was the Boys Block S Club for our sport kings, and Honor Society and CSF for the elite group of brains we all admired.

SLHS had something for everybody. Some were content not to join anything and just do the high school thing, the dances, picnics, parties, riding the rooter bus, snacks at the Jolly Roger, hanging out at the Flag Pole with friends.

High and mighty seniors, that's what we were. Who can forget arriving on campus in September of '64 as nervous sophomores? We couldn't wait for the day when we were no longer underclassmen (and gals), when we'd have "senior privileges" and rule the school. We had the Senior table, the Senior Bench, AND the senior lawn. Ah, sweet revenge.

Who can't remember? Cruising the strip and Pring's, meeting at Jerry's Drive-in to discuss the latest gossip, rivarly with Pacific High, looking up to the hill to check if they'd changed the letters again, and our boys changing them back.

We goofed off and made a hit with the senior show, we went all out for the senior ball, and topped it off with the After the Ball Party at the Claremont Hotel.

1966 was a great year. And that faraway place called Viet Nam---few of us worried about it. Oh sure, the hippies were shouting "make love, not war," in SF, but we were a zillion miles away then, cocooned in our suburban haven of San Leandro.

In those days California was the mecca of the American Dream, and everything started right here. We had our music, the greatest soundtrack ever made, and we were living the endless summer of the Beach Boys.

There were no drugs, gangs, or body piercings...not that we noticed. Boys wore crew cuts and girls fashionable flips. 1966 ushered in the mini-skirt, but we had a dress code at our school, so we saved them for after-hours with our white go-go boots.

Our high school years was a time of innocence and hope, curiosity, exploration and discovery. It made some of us visionaries convinced we could change the world, the environment to politics, and some of us did just that. 

And some of us are still trying.

Go Pirates!