P.A. 1964
Thanks to the group site Matthew McClure established for us back in
December, our class has become closer, in many ways even more connected
than we were some 36 years ago. The quality of intimacy, respect, and
trust that was evident at Doug Cowan's group encounter session last
reunion has been more than duplicated on-line. As of this writing (late
February) almost 60 classmates are registered with pa64@onelist.com.
That's more than one fourth of the class. And the degree of active
participation is overwhelming. A typical day finds 25 to 30 messages in
our mail boxes. For the benefit of the classmates who have yet to join us,
here's what you can expect to find: a combination confessional, debate
forum, middle age man and parenting-self-help-site, literary salon, and
unparalleled collection of vivid memories from our years together on the
hill.
Many of the early postings revealed that most of us remember
feeling secretly vulnerable and insecure as students. Nat Semple says
that he survived by spending hours in Graves Hall wailing on his alto sax,
and playing in the Torques. Dick Howe's expression of alienation and
homesickness surprised Doug Everett for whom Dick was his running hero.
That's the beauty of this forum: we no longer have any reason to hide.
Both Jim Torbert and Ken Gass admitted enduring the special hardships
of being compared to accomplished older brothers by the less than sensitive
Bob Maynard. Lots of us suffered at the hands of PA's finest. Dave
Mason recalls feeling terrorized by Tom Regan, who gave him a 61 for
writing a final exam with a broken ballpoint pen. Both Matthew McClure and
Dave Gang have equally unpleasant memories of slogging through "The Waste
Land" and creating homeric similes with Dalton McBee. Randy Elkins'
nightmare was math with Clem Morrell, Bill Stowe was turned off science
by chemistry with Elbert Weaver and, Fran Crowley John McCullough,
yours truly, and a lot of "the other brethren" still carry the scars of
Cornelius Banta's sarcastic wit. But hindsight has given us appreciation
for the true masters - Fitts, Gierasch, Lyons, Gibson, and the formidable
Humphries, who John Carr credits for his career as French
escort/interpreter for the State Department. Richard Kalin wrote that
"my favorite memory of Andover is Hammond playing the cello during advanced
physics labs." One of Pat Cathcart's favorites was Scotty Royce,
recalling the time Royce caught Randy Clark imitating him, and was
amused. There were men who taught us in ways beyond the classroom. If
swimming coach Reagh Wetmore reacted to Kennedy's assassination by
immediately calling his broker, chorus instructor William Schneider simply
canceled practice with the sign "I don't feel like singing."
Our on-line clubhouse is a great place to reveal secrets.
"Remember the morning the Chapel got raided, and all the prayer books and
seat cushions got 'Rearranged' somehow? I was in on that and other
pranks," confides Owen MacNutt. Nat Semple confesses that he took full
advantage of instructor Colby's nearsightedness. Twin brother Bill, who
was much better in Latin, often recited in Nat's place. They weren't
caught until the last day of the term, and got off with only a few
demerits. Mike Cathcart admits that Steve Spare accepted blame for
some posting offense while Mike was on probation, which kept him from being
booted out. Jim Torbert and Bob Chessman tried to ferment cider
during lower year, before Jim graduated to the real stuff, smuggling in
vodka, while on a weekend pass. His co-conspirators in that crime were
Torby MacDonald and Chai Kambhu. Other less postable
memories include Bob Hirsch's description of the different areas
in Commons, where jock, honor student, "in there" and "non-in-there"
types would congregate, Jack Sartore's fond recollection of how
Tory Peterson kindly took him under his wing lower year, and
Sean Kennedy's word for word recall of the ditty he and Henry
Hobson sang about the saintly Dolly of infirmary fame. Pete
Schandorff still remembers some of the Saturday Night movies -
The Manchurian Candidate and The Hustler and reveals the
news (at least to me) that it was biology teacher and cross country
coach John Kimball who chose them. But the real winner when it come to
strolling down our collective memory lane has to be Randy
Hobler, who kept a diary every day he was there (along with the 36
years since). Randy has shared many of his detailed diary entries on
line.
But classmates who have yet to log on shouldn't think that
we've been stuck in the past. Much of the appeal of our
cyberspace Ryley Room is that no subject, whether it's George's
campaign, being gay in the military, guns, the death penalty, even
hitchhiking and snakes, has failed to generate informed and spirited
debate. Pete Pfeifle and L.E. Sawyer have been our
former cheerleader's cheerleaders. Bob Dieter wrote about his
participation in the Iowa Caucases, and Bob Marshall compared
George's politically charged smirk to his own involuntary smile.
Eric Chase, a frequent contributor, shared his knowledge on why
we dropped the atomic bomb. Edward Harris brought our own
generation's war all-too-vividly home. Steve Kroll wrote about
quitting smoking, Steve Lerner about his experience with
stronger weeds, Jay Heard nominates prozac as the drug du jour,
and Bryce Muir's musings about drugs, spirituality, and the
making of a Maine philosopher definitely belong in print. And I'm not
forgetting Frank Holland, Paul Gallagher, Bruce
Kauffman, Chris Roper, Don Vermeil, Rob Auld,
Alan Wofsey, John Seegal, Tim Booth, Didi
Pei and Randy Roden, all of whose contributions make
pa64@onelist.com a site all other classmates should visit soon. See
you there.
Last updated 23 May 2000
Tom Seligson
15 Bradley Street
Westport, CT 06880
April, 2000
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