Laguna Beach Class of ’69 Reunites to Look at Who They Used to Be : <i> Time it was and what a time it was. A time of innocence. A time of confidences.</i> --Simon and Garfunkel, “Bookends”

It was a time of Vietnam, hallucinogenic drugs and protests.

It was a time of growing up for the class of 1969.

Laguna Beach High School’s class of ’69 gathered again Saturday, 20 years after its members stood together at the Irvine Bowl and graduated. Under the shadow of a bright-yellow canopy, they held a reunion picnic at Blue Bird Park, a patch of grass a few blocks away from their alma mater.

Long gone are the beads, the tie-dyed T-shirts and worn blue jeans. Instead, there were children to be held, faces to be recognized, and business cards to be handed out.

There were early arrivers such as Robert Carey, a self-described former “hippie” and now a general contractor.

As a high school student, Carey ran for class president each year so he could skip classes to campaign. He lost every time.

Carey experimented with drugs, trying LSD for the first time during his junior year. Back then, his red hair reached his shoulders and he roamed the halls and classrooms in sandals and beads. On Saturday, Carey wore dockers and a calculator watch.

High School Was a Blur

His four years of high school were a blur, Carey confessed, because what was going on outside the classroom seemed so much more important.

There were friends going to war and friends protesting the war. There was man’s first walk on the moon, and there were riots.

“I learned to question the air that I breathe, the food that I ate, the wars we fought,” Carey said.

Some stayed away from the haze.

Gordon M. Brown, who is now director of disaster emergency services for Orange County’s chapter of the American Red Cross, described himself as a “skinny kid with brains.” He said he felt more like a bystander in those days than a participant.

“We were a tiny part of what the whole country was going through. It was so confusing, scary, chaotic. It was everything at once, and we were the ones going through it all.”

Alexis Sedoff brought her two teen-age sons and her mother to the picnic. Both her children had heard about the days when their mother preferred Led Zeppelin to the classical music she now teaches. They know she had experimented with drugs, that she tried LSD at 17.

“I’ve become a liberal mom. I tell them it’s not worth taking the drugs. I know; I’ve tried them,” Sedoff said.

As a high school student, she didn’t think about what she was going to do after graduation, said Sedoff, a piano teacher.

‘No Time to Think’

“There was so much happening then. There was no time to think of my future.”

During the picnic, grandmothers sat on park benches a little apart from the reunion, spectators again to their grown children. Louise Sedoff, Alexis’ mother, described 1969 as “terrible.”

“We were lucky they all turned out as well as they did,” she said. “But I had faith in all of them. Look, they all turned out pretty good.”

Almost all of the 235 students of the class of 1969 had known each other since they were kids. About 60 of them came to the picnic, many with their children. Some have kept in touch, but those who haven’t appeared to remember each other easily.

Iola Oliver, 38, an assistant manager for a glass manufacturing company, brought her son, John, to show off. Oliver was one of only two black students in the class. She was a cheerleader who could fit in with all of the groups. She didn’t feel different from her classmates, she said, because she had known most of them since kindergarten.

It wasn’t until she went to an amusement park with classmate Gary Graham that she knew the times still needed changing. On one ride, she held hands with Graham, and they were both stunned when people stared at them.

“That was one of those times when I knew I stood out as a black person,” Oliver said. “But other times, I never felt different from anyone else.”

Long ago it must be. I have a photograph. Preserve your memories. They’re all that’s left you.

--Simon and Garfunkel

There are those missing from the reunion. Those who couldn’t make it. Those who didn’t want to come. Those who have died. Their photos were sought in the yearbook for remembrance.

“A few of us messed up. A few of us died. But most of us carried on, kept up the dream of those times,” Carey said.

But at the picnic, the former classmates dwelled on more innocent memories, of chemistry classes, field trips, and who dated whom.

They remembered the day they marched one by one to an outdoor stage to receive their diplomas. Clayton Slentz had hidden a white dove under his graduation gown. On stage, he released the dove, which flew over the class.