Laurence Conard:
CLASS OF 1966
Corona High SchoolClass of 1966
Corona, CA
Wasson High SchoolClass of 1995
Colorado springs, CO
Pepperdine UniversityClass of 1970
Los angeles, CA
Kennedy High SchoolClass of 1966
La palma, CA
St. Bernadette SchoolClass of 1962
Lakewood, CO
Laurence's Story
Wars are fought, revolutions started, uprisings quelled, protests organized, bars emptied, and tigers tamed. I have had the pleasure of eating delicious food, drinking glorious wines, reading a number of fine books, having known and enjoyed beautiful women, and have loved and been loved by one or two. This is a short accumulation of my history with many curiously woven stories from my travel cook book. It describes people I've known, romantic travel I've done, adventures I've had, and dangers I've lived through.
I was born at Scripts Institute Hospital in La Jolla, California and raised in Denver and Colorado Springs, in the shadow of Pikes Peak. My parents were hard working, unpretentious and amazing people. I have two sisters, Kathy and Mary. As a boy I came to love, skiing, camping, fly fishing and mountain trail running.
I attended three different high schools as my father's job kept us moving, which brought my family back to California. I attended Wasson HS in Colorado Springs for 2 years then 1 semester at Kennedy HS near Berry's Knott Farm and graduated from Corona High School. In college I was coached under the tutelage of Tom Tellez, who went on to be the mentor of nine-time Olympic gold medalist Carl Lewis. I received my Bachelors Degree while on an athletic scholarship from Pepperdine University. During my schooling, I ran cross-country and track and held my high school mile record for 42 years at 4:15, until it was broken in 2008. I was present to witness the event. I was inducted into the Corona Hall of Fame in 1995. My Pepperdine's record at 4:03, was broken in 2008 at 3:59 after holding it for 38 years. "Running is not to win a race, but to test the limits of the human heart." Coach Bowerman eulogizing Steve Prefontaine.
Fight on Trojans
I received my Master of Science degree and teaching credentials from the University of Southern California because there was no suitable reason not to rise to a higher mentality.
I worked part time at a Track shoe store called, Blue Ribbon Sports. The owner had running shoes made in Taiwan and wanted me to be a salesman for his new company saying "Im going places". Of course, I turned him down flat, saying "I'm gonna be a teacher, not a track shoe salesman". His name is Phil Knight, who is the founder of the Nike Shoe Corp.
At USC, I met my mentor, advisor, teacher and friend, Dr. Felice Leonardo (Leo) Buscaglia. He had a tremendous influence on me to pursue a career in special education. At one time, five of his books appeared on the New York Times best-seller list. Over 25 million of his books are in circulation and have been translated into 22 languages. Leo would pick me up at my apartment by the University, and I would accompany him on various lectures he would give throughout West Los Angeles and Beverly Hills. While he spoke, I would fill plastic bags in my pockets with all the select goodies from the buffet which we would share later in his car. Leo also preformed the wedding ceremony when I married my first wife, who I met in his class. He use to say, "I don't care what you call yourself, it's how you live your life that makes a difference," and it did.
After finishing graduate school, I taught special education in the Orange Unified School District and after 5 years, I decided to pursue a private career away from teaching. I started to buy property, build homes, and speculate in real estate. I have constructed five homes in Naples Island and the
Belmont Shores area of Long Beach, Ca., some on the waterfront. This period of my life afforded me the time between projects to travel around this great world of ours.
While building one of my homes, I met and married my neighbor, a wonderful lady, Patti. Every time I looked over at her house, the curtain would move. I eventually went over and introduced myself. (my how she hates that story) She is also a special education teacher in the Placentia-Yorba Linda School District. Our son Mark is a California Highway Patrol officer and is married to Corrine, a very talented professional opera singer. They have two sons and a baby girl. (Yikes! that makes me a grandfather) I refer to the kids as only a teacher can. "No Child's Wet Behind".
Our daughter Shelli, played water polo on scholarship for my old alma mater USC and won a National Championship. Her name is inscribed on the wall at the USC Olympic pool.
I am a certified cave diver(SCUBA) and a member of UNEXSO. (Underwater Explorers Society) in Freeport, Bahamas. I have traveled many times with my friend Dr. Otto Gasser, a renowned dive master from Cal Poly University. Together, we have had several deep-water dives to a sunken Navy submarine in Maui. I dove to the threshold of Nitrogen Narcosis (rapture of the deep) at 130' and looked over the "Edge of the Ledge", into the 10,000-foot abyss at the Grand Bahama Trench. I learned how to hand feed shark in chain mail. I dove into a fresh water cave and came out in the salty ocean. Once, while diving in Kona Hawaii, I was sucked out of a lava tube through a blow hole, and tossed like so much flotsam onto the coral.
I was asked to join several university people, 18 Professors and students who I regularly scuba dived with, to bicycle through Europe from Vienna to London.
We set out on our bikes, following the Danube River among wooded hills with many fine castles, vineyards, and old churches. Some of the villages we biked through remain as they were in the twelfth century. We were living off of Bier, Wursts and Pommes Frites.
I found myself walking over the Swiss Alps, pushing my bike. During this campaign, I spent many days hoofing up the mountains on one side, and a few excel orating moments tearing down the other. There is no pleasure in the world comparable to intolerable pain, when it stops.
We pushed across the French countryside to Paris arriving late at night, and decided to sleep under the Eiffel Tower, but who could sleep. We made our way to Cherbourg for a ferry crossing to Southampton, and on to London. Years later, I returned to many of those wonderful places including my favorite, the green jeweled Grindelwald valley, at the foot of the Jungfrau region in the heart of the Bernese Oberland.
No Flowered Cow Bells
I have also been to Grindelwald in the winter time as well. I parked my car at Inertlocken and took the early morning cogged Shatatbaund. (cogged train) Then rented snow shoes and walked up to Klein Scheidegg, and then to Pfingstegg, which can also be reached by cable car. I stayed at the Bergsteigerschule Mountain Huts. (Call first tel:532021) Certainly this area has the most memorable, classic mountain scenery in the whole of Switzerland. Push on the next day, if you plan on climbing the Eiger or the Schreckhorn. On my return trip, I stopped at the Restaurant Milchbach for a hot bowl of two bean soup, which is par excellante on a cold winter's snow filled afternoon. The worlds best. Look for the crystal ice sickles that hang off the mountain lodge which glisten in the afternoon sun. Drive around the mountains to Zermat to ski the Matterhorn. if you want to curse some extreme traverse, take the gondola past the famous peak to the back country. Then on to Italy.
I have included a poem my mother wrote about the bike trip and sent to me while I was in Innsbruck Austria. We were all enjoying this wonderful spa for days at the Olympic village called, Tiroler Jugendherberge at Reichnauerstrasse 147. This poem describes the adventure far better then I ever could. I have included it at the end of this dialogue and kept it close to me throughout my journey, and in the many years that followed.
Creativity is the Mothers Milk of Individuality
I found that the best plans for an overseas trip is only a plane ticket and the first night hotel reservation away. The rest, spontaneously takes care of itself.
When ever I would go to Europe, I had the most fun, when I would layover in Baltimore. I would run off the plane at full speed, jump into a cab and order steamed and peppered blue's* and crab cakes on the cab's radio from Obrycki's Crab House (410) 732-6399. By the time I would arrive, the crabs were ready. I would also get a bottle of their own seasoning. Instantly, I would race back, get on the plane and take off. When it came time to eat, I took great delight in bibbing up for my crab and looking at all the envious expressions on the faces of my fellow passengers, when I turned down the rubber airplane food. This is no longer possible, do to 911.
*Callinectes Sapidus, which means, savory beautiful swimmer
I have sailed on the Nile River by Falucka, from Luxor (the ancient city of Thebes) to Aswan, Egypt. I rode a horse cart in a camel caravan many miles through the Sarah Desert in the sweltering summer heat. At the time, this was the only way to visit the falcon headed god Horus, at the Temple of Edfu, built by Ptolemy. I have explored the Mystic streets and alley ways of Cairo, during an election.
While I was visiting the Great Pyramid of Cheops, I wanted to go inside, through the opening carved out by the Arab, Caliph Al Mamoun in 800 AD. I ascended the long, dark and stuffy passageway to the Grand Gallery. After spending about an hour there, I heard small footsteps scrambling up the passageway, so I quietly walked over to the chamber opening, and peeked around and down the long, narrow hall. About 30 yards away I saw a small teenage boy working his way up toward the Main Gallery. I don't know what exactly came over me, but I climbed inside the stone sarcophagus and laid in wait, like the dead Pharaoh ...Expand for more
Khufu had done, forty five hundred years before me. I remained silent, holding my breath for two small eyes to peer over the stone casket. I heard small feet shuffling closer. I snickered to myself and then continued my quiet vigil. After about ten minutes of listening to this brave young lad muttering quietly to himself, I slowly sat up, making the sounds of squeaky hinges on an ancient casket lid. I turned my head with an intense hysterical expression on my face and with hair wild, I stared deep into the boy's eyes.
A huge grimace appeared across his flushed face. His mouth opened wide, but unable to scream. After a few seconds, He made a sudden running turn, exiting the Gallery emitting high pitched shrilly shouts, diminishing as he ran down the corridor. His echos, bouncing off the rose granite walls and corbels as he sprinted down the precarious wooden planks, to escape the Beelzebub his parents warned him about.
I have always felt honored to be a part of his life long ghost story. A story told around his fire side in remembrance of fear and trepidation, to his children and his grandchildren. The story of how he became a believer in the great spirit of Khufu,who came to him reincarnated,
as it did to Charlemagne and Napoleon
as it did to Alexander the Great and Herodotus
as it did to Howard Carter and Lord Carnarvon
inside the Kings Chamber, at the great Pyramid of Cheops.
On one of our trips to Turkey, Patti and I chartered a boat and sailed from the Greek Island of Samos, the birthplace of Pythagoras, to the Turkish town of Kusadasi to visit Ephesus and to meet our friends Unvar and Josiann Gaziz. We met them at a wedding of a friend in Mykonos Greece and again when they were visiting Southern California. We decided to take Unvar's advise to sleep off the boat and stay at the Imbat Hotel for a surprise. When we woke that next morning, the hotel was surrounded by the Turkish Army, guarding each door, each solder armed with a Pulemyot Kalashnikova. (Russian machine gun) We dressed and carefully made our way to the front desk and were informed that, Prime Minister Gandhi of India came during the night. Of course that's Rajished Gandhi, son of Indira and nephew to Mahatma. The Concierge told us to wait and be part of his audience. It was a very exciting morning. About 6 months after our encounter, we woke to some very disheartening news, Rajished was assassinated, as his mother and Uncle were."Oh but the good die young".
When in Turkey, we charter a Gulet, which is an ancient sailboat design, but modernized as a 80' motor sailor, with crew and chef. We sail the Cleopatra Coast (Anatolia Coast), named because of the towns she founded, now in ruin. Since she hated sleeping on her barge, she built towns that are only one day sail apart. Many of the un-excavated Roman sites are only accessible by water. In fact, one town has sunk underwater, and can be seen by snorkeling.
We have ventured throughout the South China Sea, from Kuala Lumpur to Manila. While on the Island of Borneo we road on this rickety old bus through an Orangutan preserve to visit the Dhaka Head Hunters and their bamboo stilt village. Fresh tattoos in rings on the elders arms and physical evidence on their Parang's, debunked the myth that "they don't take heads". Of course, my only concern was that "they don't take our heads".
We motored by boat, up river to Bruni's capital city of Bandar Seri Begawan to see the Sultan of Brunei's palace. We spent many weeks exploring both North and South Thailand, negotiating teak forest and rice patties by elephant. We won the Tuk Tuk Grand Prix, racing two 3-wheeled motorcycles through the streets and sidewalks of Bangkok against my parents who were visiting us at the time. We also spent many splendid days sunning ourselves on white powdery beaches, on the Island of Puket, which has been devastated by the horrific Tsunami.
I love to cook, and I do all the cooking in our household. Cooking lets me unleash my creative, gastronomic energies. To me however, recipes are just vague guidelines. I enjoy using intuition to know whether I should add more lemon zest or couple of "glug's" of Marcella. I have mingled spices in a manner that would terrify an alchemist. That's not to say that I always prepare gourmet dishes, but good friends requires good food. The best parties are outside, grilling around the Bar BQ, drink in hand. A friend recently said about my cooking, "Even a broken clock is right twice a day."
I have an enormous Bar B Q, 6 feet long. I can cook for hundreds, and have. I smoke the best dry rub pig-cicles, (spare ribs) this side of Texas. I even pick up a Tex-Mex drawl. I confess, that sometimes I use Mango Chutney to finish the ribs, and lie about it. My personal favorite is my smoked Green Lip Mussels from New Zealand. When my 88 year old dad was alive, I would push him in his wheel chair, beer in hand, in front of the smoker. We would eat the entire bushel of mussels between the two of us, talking about mom, my sisters, and our lives together.
My wife, my best friend, and myself bought, and for many years operated a large 10,000 foot, Gold Crown Hallmark and stationary store, on Harbor Boulevard in Fountain Valley, California. We did however, decided to sell the store and returned to the career we had enjoyed the most, teaching students with severe developmental disabilities. In 1996, the three of us started another phase of our lives, as teachers.
I began my new career at Santa Ana High School, which I love, and will always consider my home. The school is the oldest (1886) and the first school in Orange County. Some notable alumni are Diane Keaton and Bill Medley of the Righteous Brothers. Occasionally he will perform for the teachers and still has a home in the neighborhood. We named our 4000 seat theater after him, which is said to be haunted.
All my students have significant cognitive disabilities. They are terrific kids, and they love to go to school. I take great pleasure getting them off the bus each morning to see how exciting it is for them to be with their friends and teachers. I admire their sense of fair play and honesty. However, I don't always enjoy hearing that I am bald. Once, I overheard them whispering and laughing to each other, referring to me as, "Senior Palone" (Mr. Bald). I try to show them every day that life is wonderful, a journey, a joyous adventure, sometimes painful but always worth living.
Larry
PS:
A Judgmental friend, who recently read this monologue, e-mailed me and said,
"Lift a rock, find more schlock."
Wheeling and Dealing with Larry
by
Charlene Conard
The time has come for you to leave the time that passed so slow. Pack up your bike your camera and gear, and don't forget plenty of dough.
The Austrian Language may give you a time, it's juice and throaty and wet. But after a Prost' or two with friends, you'll understand every word I'll bet.
We hope you learn that traveling is broadening to the mind; Especially on a bicycle, it will do the same for your behind.
The blisters you may encounter while pedaling to Lucern, won't be as bad as they will be, when you arrive in Bern.
Now down the Alps to France you go Every Km. There's something to see. You'll think you've seen it all, but then Ah, Ha! There's gay Parie.
Here's where you take your life in your hands as you wheel down the Rue de la Paix. The traffic, the noise, insanity son, it's enough to make one say:
Find me a room in a posh hotel, something for fifty francs, to escape this madness on the streets, you'll have my unending thanks!
Have the time of your life exploring the sights, the Eiffel, Notre Dame, and the Louvre. Not to mention Pigalle, Mont Marte, and the Moulin Rouge. Soon you'll be in the Parisian Groove.
That cute little seat in your hotel room is called by the Frenches, Bidet. It's not what you think - wash your clothes in the sink, and give your calloused old bottom a spray!
Say adieu to Parie, Kiss the old girl goodbye, Au Revoir to the city of lights. Bonjour Blois, Tours, Cherbourg and the rest, Keep cycling with all your might!
The boat for Southampton leaves promptly, my boy, you don't want to miss it I think, so pedal like crazy to get on the craft then relax, have a snack and a drink.
And here you are on the Wiltshire Plain, Stonehenge looming afar. What does it mean these lintels and rocks? How? Why? Who? When? What? and Whar?
The Cathedral that stands in Winchester has a bell that rings Ding, Ding, Dong. So famous it is, it was written about a few years back, in a song.
But now for the greatest, the Piece de Resistance, as fine as you'll ever see. The glory of London, and the best thing of all, they speak the same language as we.
The Tower of London holds treasures galore, Crown Jewels, Armor, and Guards. To see where the heads fell will give you a chill, and the ravens strut round in the yards.
The Palace, the Abbey, Trafalgar Square, elegant shops, and the green park, two story busses, the underground train, but - the best thing to do after dark
Is to find an old pub that's been there for years, where locals belly up to the rail. The laughter will warm you, so order a pint of Guiness or Watneys or Ale.
The time is near over, a trip to recall, so load up your bike and your gear, You've ad a bloody good time the mem'ries are rich and tell 'em you'll see 'em next year.
So I wrote her back and said.....
I want to thank you Mom for writing this poem that helped me throughout my trip. I've always loved your way with words, particularly your poetic lip.
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