Another month has floated by. Another newsletter
arrives in your mail boxes. The rush of a new school year has changed to routine. The work
that backed up for some of you after your summer vacations is getting caught up. A chill
is in the air, even in California leaves are finally beginning to change colors and drift
to the ground. I start to feel a little sentimental.
What a perfect time for mini reunions! By now you have all heard
about the two mini-reunions I helped coordinate last month in Southern California (see
< http://www.gutech.com/asm/asmreu.htm
>). With the exception of my sister, Cheryl, I had never had the opportunity to
interact with any of these people. I still marvel at the way we all connected. In both
cases, it was a matter of making simple introductions and launching into non-stop
conversation. There were no awkward moments, everyone got along as if they had known each
other for years. The warmth and familiarity was indeed very special. I look forward to
many more of these informal reunions.
I suspect that when the Class of 1969 gets together again for the
first time, it will be as if everybody has been friends for years. After 30 years we have
undoubtedly aged, but, to quote Bill Mock, "Funny thing about reunions with old
friends is that one sees the person that one knew in the past. The added wrinkles, pounds,
etc. are just superficial trappings, the person that was there in the Springtime still
shines through. "
Some of you will get the opportunity to see each other very soon.
How I wish I could hop a plane to Miami for the informal mini-reunion that Gus Gonzalez
('83) is coordinating for Southeast Florida! I hope those of you who are in Miami go to
Fat Tuesday on Nov. 20th, have a wonderful time and take many pictures. Please
send me some photos!
Now, let us go back in time to "what brought you to ASM?"
...
Connie Guzman Coleman writes:
Will you take a small walk with me down memory lane......
In the summer of 67, my dad was with the American company called
American Home Products. He was required to spend the summer months in Madrid and so my mom
decided to take the opportunity to take me and my older brother to see some of Europe. At
that time I was going to a small, private, very conservative girls school in New York
City. Well we hit Madrid that June and there was no turning back for me! I fell
immediately in love with the food, weather, drinks, flamencos , bullfights and last, but
not least, the dark eyed Spanish chicos. In the background was always the sounds of Light
My Fire, Sitting on the Dock of the Bay and When You Come to San Francisco don’t
forget to......
But, of course, in September it came to an end and back to NYC. I
still remember myself at Barajas Airport saying goodbye to the country I found so
spectacular and the tears streaming down my face. But, only a few months later, we got the
word we would be transferring there. Wow did I screech with joy up and down!
Today, I still have the chance to go back there as my dad has
retired outside of Madrid. I go back there as a middle aged woman with her two children.
The excitement level has eased off with years, but I still go back with contentment and
love.
Carol Farron tells her story:
A lucky bunch
It was 1965 when my brothers, sisters and I were bobbing through
our adolescence in a suburb of San Francisco. The Beach Boys were overtaking the Beatles
in cool (Can you imagine?), and hiding pocket knives from our parents was my brothers'
primary preoccupation. The notion that there might be more to life may have been what
prompted our parents to ask each other "What can we do right now to broaden these
kids' life experience? God knows we'll never be able to afford the college tuitions for
all of them when the time comes."
Our dad, Jay, studied Spanish while getting a sociology degree at
Notre Dame. Our mom, Helyn, was offered a scholarship to study Spanish in Mexico when she
was in high school in San Francisco. Her parents wouldn't think of letting her go. So she
learned the rest of her Spanish at City College in San Francisco.
Our parents certainly had a grasp on Spanish. They were a bit cocky
about it too. Sometimes at the dinner table when they didn't want us too understand what
they were talking about, they'd speak in Spanish.
In answering their "What-can-we-do-right-now?" question,
they thought they might as well move our family to Spain. Simple enough following their
logic: The situational economics would allow a large family to live comfortably, and they
both spoke the language. So my dad at 44 years of age retired and cashed in. They sold our
house and plain up and moved to another continent.
It was a sight seeing a family of what totaled nine at the time,
overtake a TWA plane. Lots of stares. We arrived in Madrid at the end of February 1965
after quick stops in Syracuse, NY, to visits our dad's family and Lisbon, to get a flavor
of that capital.
Once in Madrid we grabbed a small apartment on Calle Doctor Fleming
until housing suitable for a brood of our size could be found.
Serendipity!
Our apartment was right across the street from ASM when it was
still in the city. I started eighth grade right away; and my brothers began at Pinar, the
site form ASM's K-6 grades.
Within a few short weeks after developing a lust for churros y
chocolate, Spanish pastries and just about every single tapa there is, my brothers,
sisters and I were outspeaking our parents in the Spanish department. We'd run around the
neighborhood, and the greater city beyond, as soon as the sun came up to explore, taste,
smell and take in all the wonders of Madrid.
We stayed until November of 1967. By that time, the younger of my
brothers and sisters had forgotten English (after Pinar, they went to Spanish-speaking
schools.) One of my brothers knew no other language than Spanish - he was born in Madrid.
I returned to Madrid in early 1970 and stayed there on and off
until 1976. My brothers have returned several times and a sister once. And as is ever the
case, our parents were right. Moving to Spain in 1965 was better than any college
education any of us could have ever dreamed of.
Personally and professionally the experience has enriched our lives
to no end. What a lucky bunch. Every day we carry with us what we learned from that
experience. We're better, smarter and happier for it.
My dad passed away nearly two years ago. But whether he's on this
planet or not, there's not a day goes by that one of us doesn't revere him and my mother
for the great gift.
Our brother Greg, now 32, who was born in Madrid, lives with our
mom just outside of San Francisco. He's a landscaper.
Our sister Celeste, 39, lives in Modesto, CA, with her family. Two
energetic boys, 5 and 4, keep her busy.
Felicia, 39, lives just outside of Boston, with her husband and
four kids. She's working on her doctorate in special education at UC Berkeley, develops
testing mechanisms for the developmentally disabled and teaches special-ed teachers.
Kevin, 41, and his wife Nellie, a Peruvian, live in Millbrae, just
outside of San Francisco. Kevin is a painter, and his company got the contract to paint
the city's new ball park. They have two boys in high school and travel frequently thanks
to Nellie's job at United Airlines.
Terry, 42, and his wife Sonia, from El Salvador, live in San Diego
with their two teenaged boys. Terry sells insurance, and Sonia was a bi-lingual ed,
primary-school teacher until last year when California outlawed bi-lingual ed. Now she's
an elementary school teacher who worries her students are missing the benefits of learning
in two languages.
Phil, 43, also sells insurance, but in San Francisco. He and his
wife Silvana, from El Salvador, have three boys and travel often. She also works for
United.
Kit (Christopher or Chris), 45, was ordained a minister in the
early 70s and is a landscaper for Caltrans. He canoes a lot and lives in San Mateo, CA.
I, Carol Farron, 46, received a journalism degree and became a
reporter and editor at a San Francisco newspaper. As with most journalists, after deciding
it's too tough living below the poverty level while working 12 hours a day, I went on to
communications and PR work for a variety of peace and economi-justice groups (Catholic
Charities, Catholic Relief Services, the Rose Resnick Center for the Blind and the San
Mateo County Transit
Distrct). From there I drifted into non-profit health care. First
at St. Luke's Hospital in San Francisco, as their community-relations manager, and then at
Lodi Memorial Hospital as their community-development director.
In Lodi, I develop new programs to increase access to care for the
indigent, direct the hospital's strategic planning, marketing, PR, media efforts,
volunteer programs, grant writing, chaplaincy program, health library and more. I'm also
on the local library board and active in the community, getting to speak Spanish all the
time.
Just this morning, I taught my monthly Spanish class at the
hospital and turned a bunch of doctors, nurses and other staffers on to a language which,
I believe will make their lives richer too.
Quite a legacy our parents created for us.
From Xamara Villar:
In 1961 we left Cuba and moved to Spain. My grandparents were
Spaniards and my family decided to stay in Madrid and wait for Castro downfall!!!!! Guess
what? We are still waiting.
My sister and I attended the North American School of Madrid for
one year, and in 1963 we were transferred to ASM were we both graduated.
I remember the old school at Dr. Fleming. Also the Xmas shows at
the Parque Movil and the plays at the American Embassy theater.
I will always remember Mme Asunslo's French classes; in fact the
French I learned with her has helped me a lot. Also I remember Mrs. Curbera, Mrs.
Fernandez, Mrs. Villalvazo and many others. There is a special place in my heart for the
Spanish teachers, Mr. Santoro and Mr. Casariego.
Looking back at those years I feel lucky that I had the opportunity
to grow up in Madrid. Our " crowd " was a melange of different nationalities and
backgrounds. This made it very unique.
Thanks Xamara, Carol and Connie. Though the stories are different,
the sentiments are the same. Yes, we were a very lucky bunch. The various e-mails I
receive from ASMers say the same thing, over and over again. It does not seem to matter if
we had this unique experience in the sixties, seventies, eighties or nineties. Whether we
lived in the city of Madrid or in a small town, we seemed to absorb everything we were
exposed to. Looking back, we have a deeper appreciation for those years.
My parents always knew that I loved Spain. It was my world, one
that I was not willing to readily give up when the family returned to the States in
December of 1969, so I stayed for two more years. They knew I loved the experiences they
had given me, but I did not remember ever specifically thanking my stepfather for taking
us to Madrid. When I first started contacting ASMers this summer, all the wonderful
memories started flooding back. I realized that, as a teenager, I had been a bit of an
egocentric brat. This revelation (gee, only took some 30 years), prompted me to e-mail my
stepdad and say thanks. He suggested that we have my message engraved on a bronze plaque!
With Thanksgiving upon us, I would like to publicly say: Thank you,
Joe Fearey, for taking our family to Spain. The experience made me who I am today
and I cherish the uniqueness of that life long gift. Thanks, also, to all the other
parents who gave each ASMer the opportunity to be part of this giant extended family. We
touched each other's lives many years ago and now, our paths cross again as the circle of
life continues.
Happy Thanksgiving to all!
Michelle (Fearey LaGue) Mock – ASM '69 |
