Maria Brownell-Bonwell (elementary school teacher), Class of '66 . . . So do I really have to
keep it clean? That's a bummer. I just remember always being in trouble with "Philipa" (Dr.
Stevens, our esteemed Principal) and she telling my mom that I was a juvenile delinquent
because of my affiliation with Mr. De Zayas (Alex). Oh those were the days!
One recollection I have is that while going to Lake Titicaca we were held up. My dad tried to give
the campesino money but he refused it and he became very angry. Thank goodness that our
driver spoke Imara and he found out that all he wanted was bread. Was also involved in a car
accident at the race track. I was the only girl and I believe that we all ended up at the hospital. I
can't remember who else was in the car with us. I had a hugh piece of glass stuck in my knee
and Alex (De Zayas) broke his nose. Those were the wild days!
Richard Kraighman (unappreciated government worker), Class of '68 . . . I just remember
being in trouble with "Dr. Philipa" period. It was all the fault of that Rodriquez kid. Yeah! Willie
made me do it. Oh yeah and falling off Devil's Tooth Mountain and breaking my knee on the first
day of summer vacation. That was another memorable experience. Playing "medic" to our
fallen comrades after the famed rumble at the race track can't be forgotten either. (Of course I
didn't participate in the actual event - you think I was nuts?!) Will never forget the trip to the
Yungus too.
Tui Nydell-Conner (science teacher - so there Mr. Smith! Currently higher paid paralegal),
Class of '68 . . . I remember learning about PDA from Mrs. Buechler, history teacher. She said
holding hands with a boy was dangerous because we would pass germs to each other
(Editor's note: that's the reason I never held Tui's hands, rk). Actually, Ms. Buechler was one of
my favorite teachers of all in high school because she allowed me (us) the freedom to be
creative in class. I did a paper on Alexander the Great, written as newspaper articles about his
exploits. I singed the paper with candles (much to my mother's delight, I'm sure). And I wrote a
paper about Julius Caeser, writing as his cook. Fun stuff!!
And I remember the strawberry blonde algebra teacher who was very young and had a hard
time dealing with the high school boys, especially. She would get nervous and stick her tongue
out when she said something she considered funny or silly. Nolan Sessions was in my class
and gave her a hard time, along with his allies.
And I remember the "Rumble at the Racetrack." That was a very scary day. Ambassador
Henderson was SO angry! Roy Gemmell was hurt. Mikey Sessions was hurt. One of them had
a boot print on his chest. I don't remember anyone else's injuries, but I know there were more.
What started that whole thing, anyway?
I remember . . . lots of stuff. Franci Forster and I sitting on the kitchen counter at my house,
eating nuts (which kind Franci?) and drinking hot chocolate as Franci educated me about boys.
Coming back after a year of boarding school and teaching friends to do the Jerk. My brother
getting a whole series of rabies shots after being bitten by a stray that was never found.
Climbing Devil's Tooth (without breaking my knee or any other body part, thank you very much).
Tatines. Besitos. The Quick. Keith Marsh. Being crowned Queen of the Dance (I think it was the
8th grade, but it could have been the 10th) for Valentine's or Christmas. See my memories are
fading . . . I need to get them all down on paper before POOF they're gone forever.
Juli Dahl-Hughes (former librarian, budding jewelry maker, aspiring lap dancer - and most
importantly, grandma-to-be), Class of '69 . . . So many memories of those two and a half
years blend together in a teenage haze. I do remember our first day at school was Valentine's
Day of 1964. Everyone else was learning the Virginia Reel, but since I hadn't been there long
enough to acclimate (I grew to hate the word!), I couldn't join in. And some of those boys looked
awfully interesting . . .
I remember the revolution, and finding bullet holes in the wall outside our house in La Florida.
We inherited a dog with that house, a 13 year old puppy named Frankie who wagged his tail in
a circle. When we moved to the big red barn he stayed behind. I still wish I knew why my
parents gave my sister Kreta the bedroom with the balcony. And no Paul (Broderick), we never
could see more of you than just your head when you showered in the round house next door.
I remember when the Gemmels got their red Mercedes. And I remember a whole bunch of us
girls (you see Dickie Dear (rk), back then we really were girls) walking down Calle 15 singing
"Peas, peas, peas, peas, eating goober peas." I remember Mrs. Broderick allowing War and
Peace and Anna Karenina to count as two book reports. And oh, the competition! I wonder
what our average GPA was that year (Editor's note: I'm sure it would have been higher had I not
brought down the school average, rk)
Remember taking tests (the ACTs?) in the gym? I remember going to Tito's (Editor's note: not
President Tito of Yugoslavia, rk) senior prom in his father's salmon pink GMC pickup. Can't say
I remember where the prom was, just that we went and I thought I was the luckiest girl there.
My most vivid memory, of course, is the day I injured my knee, and poor Tito had to drive me
and my swelling knee up to the clinic in Obrajes. Bless his heart, he turned fourteen shades of
green when they started removing the water that had already accumulated. But he stood by and
held my hand. Daddy always blamed the "facial tissue rugs" for my mishap. He used to say the
only good thing about them was that they rolled up easily for dancing. Even with the altitude, my
parents danced every chance they got. We had a player piano too. I wonder what happened to
it. I'm sure it didn't come back in air freight. I think of La Paz now and smile.