Rosemary Berman (Jasper)
July 04, 1949 Williamsburg VA H.S. Guidance Counselor/Retired Married 3Whew, another ten years!! Yikes!!
In April 2015 we made our 14th move in forty years. This time from St. Louis, Mo. to Williamsburg, VA. Steve had retired and we downsized into another golf course community. He plays golf and I continue to play at it. Of course living near Colonial Williamsburg and The College of William and Mary has allowed us to take courses and enjoy the historical setting. We also have enjoyed attending USNA football games during the fall.
The subdivision we moved into has the most organized HOA we have ever encountered. They sponsor over 60 clubs and activities. This is in addition to the golf club and their activities. Basically we are not bored.
Besides local activities we have been working our way down our “travel bucket list.” England, Scotland, Wales, and a river cruise on the Rhone River in France, thus far.
Two of our children are in Virginia and one in DC. All are in their early 30’s and doing whatever it is that millennia’s do. None married but seem to have incredibly active and full lives.
I am looking forward to seeing those attending, and hope a few more will consider coming. I realized after reviewing the list of classmates no longer with us, that seizing this opportunity to reconnect with classmates was a great idea. Thanks to the reunion committee for their incredible efforts. Unfortunately James Devore, I still only remember the first two lines of the Cook Elementary School song!!!
“We’re off to Cook School, We’re loyal students…….”
December 29, 1948 Colorado Springs CO Retired Married 2It has been a quick bunch of years. The webpage is great. You guys all look very good. Left CA in 87 and have been in Colorado for the past 20 years. JoAnn and I will have been married for 35 years this Sept. Getting closer to retiring and cant wait. Have 9 wonderful acres that JoAnn and I love overlooking Pikes Peak. Enjoying the outdoors and woodworking when I can grab a chance as well as seeing our grown children who are both here in CO too. (family photo section)Unfortunately may not be able to make the reunion but wish all of you well.
Update. Happily retired in 2009. Jumped right in to my woodworking (lathe wood turning) ever day. Love it and have been having a good time selling it online throughout the world. JoAnn and I just passed our 44th Anniversary and have our own children and two grandchildren here in CO with us.
Been traveling a lot to Europe, Tahiti and Hawaii and keeping very busy. Still visit SD every once in awhile since my 94 year old mom is still there living with my sister.
No complaints, loving life and hope that the reunion brings back a ton of memories. Sorry I am going to miss it.
Eugene (Gene) Cook
Bonita CA Retired Married 1First, a thank you to the Classmates that organized our 50th Reunion Event.
Wow...50 years, I have to say, it has been a good 50 years. After High School, I attended Mesa Junior College, that was interrupted by the draft. Two years with the Army, Fort Lewis, Washington and Frankfurt, Germany. Resumed studies at Southwestern College, departed with AA in Accounting. Later got involved with the USPS, became a lettercarrier working in North Park, Hillcrest, then Mission Valley, ended up with a retirement almost 30 years later.
Married in November 1976, to Kimberley Wagner, classmate of Bonita Vista 1971. Looking at 41 years of a succesful marriage, come this November. On Feburary 29, 1988, we have a Leap Year, baby girl, we named her Alex Mackenzie. Both Kim and Alex are currently employed in the accounting field. I'm working the retirement thing...a few cruises, hobbies and wondering, where did the day go?
Jill Skinner (Wood)
March 28, 1949 Pagosa Springs CO retired Married 1Everything has changed since our last reunion 10 years ago. I've retired, moved to the San Juan Mountains in southwest Colorado, and remarried. Most of all, I am looking forward to visiting everyone at the dinner event Saturday evening.
But I have been saddened by the list of confirmed classmate deaths. There are so many on that list I'd hoped to connect with again. On the other hand, there are several dear old friends to visit with Saturday evening. Let's catch up, k?
Cupertino CA Patent Attorney Married 2
Not much has changed since my comments for the 40th reunion. After the 40th year comments, I have added memorial essays for Keith Wilson, Mary Dryden and Suddy Duffy this time around. I hope you enjoy them.
Like most of you, after I was contacted by one of the ring leaders, I immediately had to look at my high school year book. I noticed that there appears to be classmates that participated in high school life and those that did not, or that did so only marginally (like me). I would like to take this opportunity to flesh out the record a bit. There were actually several parallel universes of participation at high school. Some of us simply didn’t see the need or value of participating in, and were even to some degree disdainful of, school-sponsored activities, which are the ones represented in the year book. Why should one waste time at boring club meetings when you could go directly one-on-one with Michael DeCamp to discuss obscure points in cosmology theory, or with Frank Beyerle, Lloyd Bartels, or Barry Sherman to get incredibly funny satirical characterizations of anything or anybody, or with Dennis Dow to be shown how to draw really good cartoons, or with Phillip Meyers to design, construct, and set-off every kind explosive device known to man, or with Keith Wilson to get brilliant, witty and original political commentary. Not to mention the other options, such as going to get drunk and crazy at the Long Bar in Tijuana, or releasing live scorpions in Mr. Tomlinson’s coat closet, or throwing Molotov cocktails onto the cement bleachers of the football field from the cliff above, to the thrill of the Lancerettes on the field below.
And for some folks, who really may not have participated very much in high school life, their parallel universe may have been just a brief holding pattern to be endured before going on to find more relevant relationships in the larger world.
The point I want to make is that regardless of your high school or life circumstances, regardless of the level of satisfaction that you feel you have had with family or career in the last 40 years, I submit that as the clock continues to run for us, that unique set of shared experiences at that unique time and place in our lives will become more and more important, to everyone, and that it presents an opportunity that should not be disregarded lightly. Maybe the ring leaders have had the wisdom, luck, or intuition to know this all along. And fortunately they are a generous lot.
Anyway, from my parallel universe, a quick glance at my year book made me think of the following people that affected my life that have not made postings to the 35th or 40th reunion sites. If you below have stumbled onto this site, I would love to hear how things are going.
Steve Buchhorn (You were not only a great end. You did the best Teaberry Shuffle.)
Dave Randle (You don’t need your hearing to send an email.)
Phillip Meyers (Do you forgive me for getting you thrown into the Tijuana jail?)
Randy Kaul (I bet you thought I forgot about my Tesla coil. You owe me.)
Bill Arns (I saw your promise, but did you survive long enough to find your niche?)
Dennis Dow (There was a great artist stuck away in there somewhere. It is not too late to be the next Gary Larson).
Kathy Lambert (The most cunning underclassman.)
The Mankin Sisters
Domingo Marquez (Hombre!)
Steve Mouzas (You are here because I did not have the opportunity back then to call you and John Fegurgur ass holes for blind tackling me during indoor football practice).
Brad Ramsey (Mr. Jabberwocky)
Ramzi Hakeem (Did you survive Lebanon?)
Barry Sherman (How is your immune system now?)
Any of the Crazy Ichelsons (Especially Suzanne. I love you. You of course know that you made me a God among my geeky nurd friends by stepping out of that crowded Berkeley sidewalk and giving me that sexy hug and kiss).
Genie Brownell (Well, not class of ’67, but really, who cares? I still have fond memories of being your bitch on that motor cycle ride to Tijuana for tortas).
Michael DeCamp (Forget all that cosmology, quasi-stellar object BS. My greatest memory of you is that gym class football tournament where WE WON because you caught the ball in the championship game!)
Anna Graham (Well, actually Sweetwater class of ’67)
As for me, after San Diego State (mathematics), I went to graduate school at UC Berkeley (biophysics), fell in love (Cindy), got married (not a big ceremony—a grad school friend with a Universal Life ministers card), graduated, got a job as a scientist (Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory), scientific career flamed out, went to law school, started a family (two kids, Mark & Kate, plus assorted cats, dogs, and other animals), and have been working ever since as a patent attorney in the biotech industry, all in the San Francisco Bay Area, except for a short stint in Geneva, Switzerland, where I learned that I have no talent for foreign languages (bless the French and Swiss for their patience). Mostly, I have worked at smaller biotech firms, frequently start-ups; but no jackpots so far, so I am still working, which is OK because it is still fun. Concurrently, we have gone on lots of family backpacking trips (Sierras mostly); I have coached a hell of a lot of soccer; and we survived the teenage years without too much hair loss. Also concurrently, I have many projects both technical and artistic, for which there never seems to be enough time.
Finally, there is a certain joy and sadness about youth that is hard to describe, that I sometimes get when thinking about the high school days. Somewhere along the way I ran across this excerpt from a short story that perhaps captures the mood. Maybe you will appreciate it too when you think of our high school years, or maybe those of your children:
Oh, the glamour of youth! Oh, the fire of it, more dazzling than the flames of the burning ship, throwing a magic light on the wide earth, leaping audaciously to the sky, presently to be quenched by time, more cruel, more pitiless, more bitter than the sea—and like the flames of the burning ship surrounded by an impenetrable night.
Keith Wilson 1949-2007
I first met Keith in fifth grade, but did not become aware of Keith’s special qualities until later. He was not selected for the “accelerated” program in math (I believe it was 7th grade), so on his own, without any parental encouragement or forcing, he enrolled in, and completed, a summer school math class that permitted him to enter the accelerated math program in the fall. Clearly, he wasn’t just a hoodlum, as his elementary school reputation suggested. Far from it. I am not sure when it was that Keith and I started spending a lot of time together as friends. I believe it started in junior high school and then ramped up through college. We shared a sense of humor, a disdain for authority (mostly that variety of facile authoritarianism practiced by stupid people), a love of pushing the envelope of social acceptability, and intellectual curiosity. Long before most of us became aware of the concept of student protests, Keith led the first one during a gym class in the early ‘60’s at Hilltop Jr. High School. (To this day, my brother Chad who still lives in Chula Vista informs me that Coach “Yuli” Watson—who was the gym teacher at the receiving end of Keith’s revolt--still asks about Keith). One summer, also during junior high school, a notable recreation was going down to the local chapter of the John Birch Society near Third Avenue to have heated political arguments with the chapter members. Keith did most of the talking of course, and typically had everyone sputtering mad by the time he chose to leave. Other times, Keith and I, with the precision of a Mission Impossible adventure (or so I recall), would escape from the closed campus of Hilltop Jr. High School during the lunch hour to enjoy a Burger King feast in downtown Chula Vista. And then there was the Saturday that we ditched catechism class at St. Rose to go see Robert Kennedy campaign downtown. After shaking our hands and autographing our catechism pamphlets, RFK made some witty remark about where the young Catholic gentlemen should have been. Later we did the typical things that most high school guys did in Chula Vista at the time: sports, going to the beach, body surfing, Tijuana, and so on. But there were other things too. Keith was quite a good chess player. In fact, he taught me how to play. I used to spend many hours at his home. His Dad (“Woodrow” to family members) was not working at the time, and had a personality not unlike Keith’s. There were endless Wilson family arguments about politics, current events, and philosophy, and there were chess matches. These guys were good too. There were no dumb Wilsons: Woodrow, Diane, Woody, Bruce, Keith, and a six-clawed cat, whose name escapes me. Their mother (“Millie” to family members) held herself in reserve to pick up body parts and fractured egos. To survive, you had to be quick, do your homework, or learn quickly to master the arts of sophistry, humorous sarcasm and casuistry, all of which were much appreciated art forms in their family. Fortunately for me, the Wilson’s weren’t very scientifically or technically inclined. So I found a niche. Or, perhaps they were just being good hosts to a friend of the family who was somewhat slow on the up-take. I now look back on those afternoons and evenings as kind of a weird and edgy sort of heaven, but it must have been hard growing up the youngest in such a family.
Keith was a bundle of fierce loyalties, wit, creativity, cunning and incredible stubbornness. I have often thought that Keith was one of those men born out of his time. He would have made a great 10th century Balkan warlord. But he also had a huge tender spot, especially for kids and pets. Both of our kids loved their visits to Keith’s house, when he lived in Pacific Palisades. For many years we would spend the Fourth of July holiday with him and his wife, the high points being the Santa Monica parade (where Ted Knight--the newsman “Ted Baxter” on the Mary Tyler Moore show--was always Parade Marshall) and of course Keith’s famous backyard barbeques. As the years went by our meetings became sparser and sparser, as often happens with early friendships. Later in his life, Keith had some financial and personal reverses that weighed heavily on him, which leads me to recall another event from high school that perhaps was a portent of some sort.
At that time, every summer included a trial by water. That is, for those of us into body surfing, the real season would begin sometime in August, when the hurricanes hitting Baja would throw up the big surf along the San Diego coast. In high school, the surfing location of choice was North Beach in Coronado. The season had started with a bang. Six to nine foot waves were breaking along the beach, which creates an interesting hydrological phenomenon. After a set of such big waves hits the beach, so much water gets piled up on the beach that extremely severe rip-tides develop. Under such conditions, they are like raging torrents taking the surplus water, and anything else that happens to be caught in it, back out to sea. When we were out in the middle of this maelstrom, Keith got deposited into the middle of a large rip-tide. Keith did the right thing and swam perpendicular to the current. But a lifeguard got nervous and went out to save him anyway. I distinctly remember hearing Keith tell the approaching lifeguard, “Get the hell away, you’re not going to save me.”
Mary Dryden 1949-2013
Can the meager contact we have with another ever provide enough evidence to gauge the heart and soul of that person? Lives of others are complex and mostly hidden, but Mary found her way into the hearts of many of us and never left. I confess that my contact with Mary was indeed meager: First some early years as teenagers sharing classes and hallways in High School and Junior High School, and then forty years later near the ends of our lives, sharing a short period of correspondence that touched on the usual incidentals of life, but that also revealed a lady with a sharp intellect, and more. Even those with meager contact would know that Mary was an actress, a keen observer of humanity, and a person of extraordinary warmth and humor. She was also a person with no small measure of wisdom, and mystery.
A brief summary of the events of Mary’s life (and height: 5’5”) can be found in her own words from her biography on Internet Movie Database: “Mary Dryden was born Mary Rule in Chicago, Illinois to Anglo-Scottish-Scandanavian parents. Her father was a well-known surgeon, famous for being part of the team that first successfully separated conjoined twins. Her mother was an accomplished artist and an amateur actress. Mary was educated abroad and studied ballet from an early age. Meeting her first husband, the photographer Ian Dryden, studying Shakespeare at the University of Edinburgh lead to a successful modeling career in Britain. After moving to Los Angeles, she began studying acting and was immediately cast in music videos due to her dance background. Serious acting roles followed and stage remains her primary focus though she also enjoys acting for the camera. Mary has two sisters and is married.”
Untold by the biography, but known perhaps to those of even meager contact: Her father was for a while also the personal physician of Enrico Fermi and had a special bond with his second daughter that unfortunately was shattered by his suicide in the early 90s, from which it is not clear that Mary ever fully recovered. Mary’s first marriage ended tragically by Ian Dryden’s early death; Mary’s second husband was a disaster and was divorced; whereupon she married her third husband, Larry, a fine gentleman and a good match. Mary’s acting career upon returning to California seemed like a struggle: her day job was as a legal librarian which was demanding and which must have posed a significant obstacle to the pursuit of her real passion. The only evidence of her entry into the movie world is a trailer for a movie entitled “Porn Queens of the 70s,” described on Internet Movie Database as: “Former adult movie actress, Daphne, has a reunion party, inviting her old work buddies. This proves to be too much for her ailing boyfriend. A humorous ‘where are they now’ portrait of the world's most infamous entertainers.” It turns out not to be at all as what many of her former high school admirers might wish to think; nonetheless, it can still be viewed on YouTube, where for a brief moment you see Mary, absolutely stunning. Mary acted in many plays, which between rehearsals and performances and work, must have been tremendously draining. Mary also wrote freelance book reviews one of which, published in the LA Times, was on Patricia Neal’s book “As I Am,” recounting a crippling stroke and difficult marriage with Roald Dahl, which makes one wonder about the intensity of Mary’s own life’s challenges by her passionate review of those of Patricia Neal. Mary had to deal eventually with the declining health, dementia and death of her mother, the realization that she would not have children of her own, bickering siblings, and her own health problems of a replaced hip and breast cancer. Through it all, Mary maintained a good attitude, an active social life, an impressive reading schedule, and her great loves of Shakespeare, Scotland, roses and cats.
Perhaps the only instance where one may come closest to knowing what’s really in the heart and soul of another is through close friendship, as with a brother or sister, which, as Joseph Conrad observed, in some lucky cases may include “the frank unreserve … of thoughts and sensations” and “an objectless and necessary sincerity of one’s innermost life trying to react upon the profound sympathies of another existence.” Mary’s correspondence nearly always met this standard and sparkled with interesting observations and wit:
MARY: Your question about any consciousness outside of society being inherently amoral is an interesting one. I wonder, did mankind invent the concept of morality or is it simply part of the make-up of humanity--the "divine spark" if you will. I think that takes us back to dualism.
MARY: You make a good point about the endless discussion over the nature of human existence and divine power. Some people--both in the middle ages and now--have way too much time on their hands. I guess that's why they used to be monks. The existence of a divine being is, I think, impossible to prove but it could be argued that it is the nature of humans not to be capable of understanding divinity through the crude procedures with which we are familiar. I went to a screening of the new film "Beowulf" last night (absolutely hysterical and campy in many parts but oddly moving in others, as great epics are) and have been trying to locate the origin of the story of the bird flying through the mead-hall and its relevance to human experience.
I know I'm going to regret this but what did the elephant say to the naked man?
STEVE: Geez, I thought you would never ask! But after your discourse on Beowulf and object permanence, I am now kind of embarrassed to tell you the answer.
MARY: The night out with the girls was a lot of fun. Kim and Rita and great friends and we always have loads to talk about but, between our hectic schedules, we're lucky if we get to see each other 3 or 4 times a year. As predicted, Rita is having (incessant) marital problems with her husband Dave (who thinks he's a rock star just because he hangs out with one) and Kim, who is looking for a new job. She doesn't actually need to work but she's discovered, not having kids, that her persona is inextricably woven into her job description, which is repping high-end jewelry and watches. She's accustomed to wearing her stock and what girl doesn't like being draped in hundreds of thousands of dollars of jewelry without having to pay for it? We went to a small, family-owned Italian restaurant in Culver City which was absolutely fabulous and my (backless) posh frock was a big hit with the Italian waiters. They kept spilling my wine and bringing me fresh glasses. I had a headache Saturday morning.
STEVE: Mary, are you sure it was the backless part of your posh frock that was a hit with the Italian waiters (who were probably Iranian, Mexican or Turkish)?
MARY: P.S. The backless frock has a bit of a plunging neckline. My theory is that they kept taking away my glass and serving me more so that they could both gaze upon my nakedness and look down my front. And they were definitely Italian. I spoke Italian with one of them until my dearth of knowledge was quickly depleted at which time we switched to French.
STEVE: I always wondered what women did at gabfests. It kind of sounds like torturing small animals to me. Speaking of which, there is a lady at work, VP of Business Development, no less, early 40’s, nice looking, with a pleasant personality (also blond). She is always showing cleavage. I mean it is like some weird contest when you have to talk with her. You make eye-to-eye contact, as in normal conversation, then the heavy lifting begins. It takes complete concentration to carry on the conversation, and at the same time, keep your eyeballs from wandering into that forbidden zone of peripheral vision maxed out with cleavage. I am sure she monitors the eyeballs of every guy in the room, whether she’s looking at them or not. She is a Croatian lady, who actually has a nice attitude towards life, and a vacation house on Hvar.
MARY: All of sudden, I'm incredibly busy with acting work. I read two parts for a book on www.newfiction.com yesterday--a sort of erotic novel, of all things. One of my characters was Elizabeth Hurley so I had to watch the first Austin Powers movie again to get her accent right. Not much of an actress (her, not me), but a good voice. Then I had an audition this morning for an AT&T commercial--they had me ad libbing in French in a bathrobe while speaking to an invisible scene partner. If one didn't love the profession, one would quit in disgust--it sometimes seems very silly.
MARY: Rehearsals are going well but it's a tricky play. The two leads are good actors but quite young and frankly lack the life experience necessary to navigate the subtext. They are improving, though, and we've a long time to go before we open. I do hope you can piggyback a trip to the theatre onto a visit to your daughter as I intend to steal the show entirely. The hardest thing for me in this part is to speak with a decidedly regional American accent. And there is a rich irony in that the lead actor, with whom my scenes primarily are, played a neurotic stalker in my last play who "raped" me onstage (under VERY low light); on this occasion, I get to do my damnedest to seduce him. It's a situation where there will be no such thing as over-acting which, to an actor, is like eating chocolate cake to a band playing.
MARY: You can be my audience for sonnets any day. There is one in particular I regularly use as an audition piece (#147--it's very sexy, and kind of sad).
My love is as a fever longing still,
For that which longer nurseth the disease;
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
The uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which physic did except.
Past cure I am, now Reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are,
At random from the truth vainly expressed;
For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.
And so what of Mary? What can this meager contact say about her heart and soul? … Does it not reflect a person who pursued life in her way--perhaps with mixed success, but with a good moral sense, inquisitiveness, delight in her feminine charms, a sense of humor, grace, and perhaps wisdom? Does it not reflect a person to admire, to think about, and to love?
For me, and perhaps for others, Mary also poses a mystery not unlike that described in a scene of Citizen Kane pointed out by movie critic Roger Ebert: A reporter inquires about the famous last word of Charles Foster Kane, “Rosebud:”
BERNSTEIN: That Rosebud, huh? Maybe some girl? There were a lot of them back in the early days.
THOMPSON: It’s hardly likely, Mr. Bernstein, that Mr. Kane could have met some girl casually, and then 50 years later on this death bed, remember.
BERNSTEIN: Well, you’re pretty young, Mr. Thompson. A fellow would remember a lot of things you wouldn’t think he’d remember. You take me. One day back in 1896, I was crossing over to Jersey on the ferry, and as we pulled out, there was another ferry pulling in. And on it, there was a girl waiting to get off. A white dress, she had on. She was carrying a white parasol. I only saw her for one second. She didn’t see me at all. But I’ll bet a month hasn’t gone by since that I haven’t thought of that girl.
MARY: You know, Steve, although I certainly regret not knowing you better in high school, we probably spared each other a lot of grief by not going out together. I completely agree with your assessment that men don't know which end is up until they're at least 25 years old except that I would say closer to 30 or 40. As for me, I spent a lot of years thinking I knew what I wanted when in fact I was just reacting to random events as they happened. I wasn't really raised to have a specific life plan in mind and it took a lot of marbles in my probability box to get the right number of hits to form some serious goals. You said once that Keith Wilson should have been a Balkan warlord. I should have been (and may have been in a past life) the wife of a king or a poet or an ambassador from a much earlier time when I could have fulfilled all my domestic duties as a wife and mother while conducting personal business such as acting, writing and love affairs with such aplomb that my behavior would be considered the epitome of discretion. That doesn't really work in this day and age and though I'll never know what would have happened if my first husband, Ian, hadn't died so young, I think it's probably no coincidence that it's taken me a long time to get my priorities straight. Much as I admired you from afar (and still do), you probably dodged a bullet.
Or passed by a young woman in a white dress with a white parasol.
Who Was Sullivan Duffy?
Cicero tells us that the four cardinal virtues are prudence, justice, fortitude and temperance. Like many of us during high school, Sullivan Duffy, or “Suddy” to his friends and acquaintances, was wont to behave in a manner in complete contravention of these virtues, and sometimes with apparent humor and delight, in complete contravention of more than one at the same time. It is still a shock to see Suddy’s name at the top of the “In Memoriam” list on our class website (at least before Bill exercised his prudence and at least temporarily removed the list), although I had known for decades that Suddy had died as a young man during Marine Corp training; a victim of an undetected congenital heart condition.
Suddy was one of the many “invisible” students of Hilltop High School, especially based on the evidence we find in our yearbooks: he did not participate in school clubs or sports, nor did he participate in outside clubs or organized activities of any kind that I know of. I cannot even remember ever sharing a class with Suddy in high school. Yet he was smart, he was a good athlete, he had a fine personality, and he was a great companion in numerous youthful adventures. Suddy and I gravitated to one another in many high school social settings, including high school basketball games, the beach, parties, various non-school sporting events, like sand lot football, and so on. He was my roommate in college for a time. At one time or another he dated my sister, and at one time or another I dated his sister. At different times we had the same girlfriend. The mix made for lively conversations around the dinner table when we shared the flat in Hillcrest near Balboa Park during college. The same girlfriend was greatly admired by both of us; in our conversations about her, I recall nothing but affection and humor, although she dumped both of us in our turns.
A not infrequent challenge as a young man in those days was to obtain liquor for social activities, especially weekend social activities. Suddy and I attempted to address this challenge one night by driving to Tijuana to replenish our supplies. Unfortunately the Hilltop boys displayed neither an abundance of prudence nor temperance (in all senses of the word) in this endeavor. First we proceeded to make a purchase under the assumption that the only risk to bringing it over the border was having the liquor confiscated by the border guards on the return trip. Second, at the border crossing we proceeded to mouth-off to the guards, which of course was monumentally stupid under any circumstances, but even more so because of a particular item that I happened to be carrying.
This item requires a small digression. During high school and most of college I worked at a ship’s laundry which entailed getting up at about 4:45 am, going to the laundry plant, picking up a load of finished laundry (packed in a duffle-sized bag), trucking to the Naval Station on Harbor Drive, and being dropped off at a Naval vessel docked at a pier or taking a water taxi or Navy skiff to a vessel docked at a buoy. On the ship, sailors picked up and paid for the finished laundry and brought you soiled items for cleaning. The job paid quite well and you worked for only 2 hours or so per day, so it was a perfect college job; you were off the ship by morning muster (7am?) and on your way by 8am. Anyway, one day a junior officer left his military ID in his dirty clothes, which I discovered back at the laundry plant. Instead of doing the prudent and temperate thing and returning it, I replace his picture on the ID with mine in order to have an ID for purchasing alcoholic beverages for myself and my friends. I can only imagine in retrospect the number of laws I must have broken!
Back at the border crossing, I recalled the item that I had in my wallet while Suddy continued to ramp-up his mouthing off. The guards ordered us out of the car and into the guard house for further interrogation. Suddy (probably confusing foolishness for fortitude) continued la résistance and managed to get taken into the back room first. I heard a lot of banging of furniture and incoherent yelling for the longest time, then suddenly everything went silent. At this point I had to ditch the illicit ID, which I managed to do under suspicious looks in a brochure stand in the waiting room. Then out came a contrite Suddy and it was my turn. Fortunately nothing much happened to me as they apparently had exhausted themselves on poor Suddy. After receiving a stern warning and collecting the item-containing brochure on the way out (acting like I was interested in joining the Border Patrol or something), we were back on the road, incredibly with the liquor we had purchased still in the car. I asked Suddy what happened. He told a funny story (which included significant fortitude in the face of several burly Border Guards) very reminiscent of the old joke about the Confederate soldier who had a squirrel run up his leg, but instead of the squirrel commenting on what he intended to do next in the nether regions of the soldier’s pant leg, it was Officer So-And-So inquiring whether “it was time for the full body cavity search,” which suddenly turned the situation around for Suddy. For many years afterwards we acknowledged (at least out of earshot of others) our lack of prudence and extreme good fortune at not being charged, tried, convicted and sent to prison.
Eventually Suddy and I went our separate ways. He may have dropped out of college and drifted. I think the Marine Corp was an attempt to find his way. It is sad that genetics cut his plan short. He would have made a great Marine, and he had all the capabilities to lead a good and satisfying life.
Finally we come to justice. Is there anything less just and more painful to think about than the premature death of a young person, such as Suddy? Perhaps one of the shocks of getting old is remembering young friends who didn’t make it. Perhaps it is a variant of that deep Question that has no satisfying answer, without faith.
Who was Sullivan Duffy? He was one of us who did not make it. Let’s not forget him, nor others like him.
Santa Rosa CA Family physician Married 2I'm really looking forward to reconnecting with classmates and remembering those great years at Hilltop. Brief update on my last 50 years:
I went to Southwestern for two years and became more focused on school and a career in medicine. Then SD State where I met Sorralie (Sori) Lubinsky and never looked back. While at UC Irvine Med School we got married and soon had two toddlers. After a year in OB-GYN, I decided to become a family doc and completed the Family Medicine residency training in 1978. We moved to Northern California - Santa Rosa - to raise kids and start a practice. We're still here- same town (growing but still great place to live), same house (remodeled a few times), same wife (44 years!) same patients (they seem to be getting older somehow), same kids (three grandkids). There has been a whole lot of fun and love and travel and adventure and family and friends in those 50 years. Retirement? Going off into the sunset? Not yet but I'm a least thinking about what that would be like. We will see what the future holds...
March 24, 1949 MOUNT SHASTA CA Biologist quercus-consultants.com Married 2
February 06, 1949 Oceanside CA Human Resources (Retired) Single 1After High School I got married and moved to North Carolina. I lived there until my divorce and came back to CA. I worked in Human Resources at high tech companies until I retired 3 years ago. I had a trailer in Ensenada for 10 years as my get away. I love traveling, art and playing games. Retirement suits me, I love it. This reunion will be my first, better late than never.
Sonja Neece (Ring-Mueller)
Sanborn IA Retired Married 2I am happily married (divorced twice), have two grown daughters, 45 and 34, and two grown granddaughters, 24 and 19. After HS I attended college for 2 years and married. During that time I worked for General Dynamics Convair in a blue-print crib. Along with my husband, I also became interested in car racing and drove quarter-mile stock cars at various locations in California. After divorcing I lived in Fairbanks, Alaska and loved the wildness and the challenges of the area. Later, when I returned to San Diego I worked in Federal Civil Service in Communications and Security for the Navy on North Island. I remarried a military man and eventually moved to the Naval Weapons Center, China Lake where I became a Safety and Occupational Health Specialist. My husband was a Pro-Rodeo contestant as well so much of our time was competing in both military and professional rodeos. I competed as a rodeo contestant in AZ, CA and WA. We eventually were tranferred in NAS Whidbey Island in Washington State where I continued working in the Occupational Safety and Health Field, eventually becoming the base Safety Manager. After divorcing I decided to leave Washington State and was hired as the Zone Occupational Safety Health Manager for the USDA Forest Service in Arizona and New Mexico. I was based out of the Kaibab National Forest in northern Arizona where my territory was on both sides of the Grand Canyon. It was a wonderful area and job. I met my husband, Steve, there and retired from Federal Civil Service after 34 years. My husband is half Blackfoot so we eventually relocated to Superior, Montana and then made a move to Helena where boredom took over. I then worked for Montana State Fund as a Safety Coordinator for 5 years. Then retired AGAIN and hopefully for good. We currently live in Sanborn Iowa in order to be closer to my eldest daughter. However it is too tame here and we hope to make a last major move some time within the next two years. It's been a wonderful life and I've lived and experienced many adventures. Both my husband and I enjoy camping, fishing, hunting and the mountains and even gold pan when the opportunity arises! Outdoors is the best.
Donna Brownell (Hanson)
Lewistown MT registered nurse Married 3
Arn & I have a small ranch in the middle of Montana. We run 100 Red Angus cows and live the life of rural Americans. I work at a small local hospital (30 beds) which is about 18 miles from home. We love to travel but never have enough time.