Bruce Anderson:  

'bout 5 years back breezed thru Carmel and dropped off my mother's ashes, then headed out to Belden Road and saw Nigel Miles and said, this is cool! Came across this site because I was looking for Mrs. Westerholm (English lit. remember, (y/n)?) 'cause in her way, she saved my keyster, tho' it'd be a few years before that pay it foreward kindness came through. Sitting at a busy corner in Palm Beach County can't imagine how intensely damn beautiful Carmel NY really is! Being a kid, well that's maybe not so much fun, anyhow namaste! cheers let's keep the neurons awash w/good vibes! Bruce Anderson... That fall of '67 I enrolled in SUNY Morrisville as a journalism student, and that is why I'm asking about Mrs. Westerholm, because she supported my efforts to both graduate and go on to college. I remember still working at the Gleneida Lakeside restaurant for Bill Schilling, then towards the end of the summer I joined Greg Race over at the Alpine restaurant on Rt.22(?). Maybe a week or two, but as the Dead sang the song "trouble ahead, trouble behind..." But since this is about high school, I want to attempt to find some memories from that time: I would have to guess that my most positive moments during 1966-1967 would be the dances, dances that didn't take place in the high school, as I remember. Rather there was a place in town (a VFW maybe, or was that the Grange Hall. Also, the Catholic church had dances, pretty sure of that) and of course those were days of lusting (in the imagination at least) and the development, the growth of, in my case, an imagined identity. There was an English teacher, at the time she seemed quite elderly to me, but I'm sure that she brooked no nonsense, and I remember her telling me that I was a hedonist, and I had to act as if...I knew what the hell she was talking about, and then she reccommended that I read Thomas Mann's Magic Mountain (This is Mrs. Truran, I see and I wrote my first short-story for her.) Unfortunately this was not what I thought a sixteen year old should be reading, but see... what did I know? Really really pretty gals...I don't know which to sing: James Taylor or Jimmy Plante, still as always dancing to Daisy and Confucious, Gotta run, really. I have come to the conclusion that high school was pretty much over for me by my junior year. I'm shocked by that recognition yet I had to sleepwalk through the rest of my time there. I want to note how respectful I am of the mini-resumes attached to many of your photos. However, given the best of intentions, I could not have managed to apply myself to excelling as a student. Of course, alcohol was the sign of my failure, or turbulence. And had the alcohol been absent I may have been able to focus somewhat. I think. Dunno. I also picked up the wrong bff, and that's not to say he's a bad guy. But in my life there was zero 'Plan B' to be had, whereas his parents could demand his eventual toeing the line. I guess. Anyhow there were two classy gals, one in our class, and one from Ladycliff Academy who might have been able to help me develop less self-destructively, but by 16 I could take my mother's car, drink at several bars and end up in Willy's in Po'keepsie. From Willy's I ""entered"" 'manhood' LOL! And in '68 met the smart but romantic Dutchess CCC student who unfortunately adopted me as her husband. So this entry is just to say that high school was over, except by fits-and-starts, probably as a sixteen-year old. A shame? You see, I'm not so sure I'll answer that unequivocally as a 'yes.' Were I a genius of sorts, of course we could all say, hey he was destined for different paths. Still, honor life and much of the life I would see, experience, and mold me, I would not trade for other more formal educations. Just thinkin'. Certain public exemplars from our class I admire, for sure. For me hands-down that'd be Steve Johnson at the t...Expand for more