Update 4-8-08

Hi,

Some sad news, then some business, then some adventures.
   
    First, from Ed Schmidt:  Sorry to report more sad news, but Robert Raffellini, junior high social studies
    teacher, passed away in March.  I don't know if you were aware of this.  Some of you may remember him.
        Regards to all.
   
    [Rich -- As I wrote Ed Schmidt:  I thought Robert Raffellini was one of the younger teachers.  He was hired after I went through junior high.  I hate it when people close to my age die.  Or just hate it when people die.]
   
    Next, this week's Vince Tampio / Booker Gibson scholarship accounting:
         The present Tampio scholarship total:  $160, from 5 donors
         The present Gibson scholarship total:  $128, from 4 donors
         As you may remember, I keep the donors' names private.  The first year, I was listing them in the newsletters because people seemed to want that, and I so completely irritated one of our former classmates that we've never heard from that person again.
        So, we still need $340 for this year's Tampio scholarship and $372 for this year's Gibson scholarship.
   
    Finally, a pair of widely separated adventures, both in time and space.  The first pair of letters comes from Jessica Kellman Collett '66.  Last week, Jessica's cousin Barnet forwarded to Jessica Ryki Zuckerman's notes about the recent class of '66 gathering in Florida and sent me Jessica's e-mail address.  I sent Jessica the class of '66 names and e-mail addresses from our contact list and asked if she'd like to be on the weekly mailing list.
   
    Jessica wrote:  Yes, it would be fun to be added to your class's newsletter.  I left for California in 1970 and, with a few exceptions, haven't been in touch with many former South people over these long years.  I did, however, make it to my class's 20th reunion.  I couldn't come to the 40th reunion, and I hate to wait for the 60th.  Of course, I see my cousin, Barnet, and have kept in touch with Ellen Eiger, Judy Statsinger, and Susan Joseph.  I married a guy I met on the way to Woodstock and have enjoyed an eclectic life since.  I would love to hear from any old friends who remember me.  It’s funny -- I remember so many people like it was yesterday.  I just can't believe I'm turning 60 this month.
   
    [Rich -- And I wrote:  I will add you to the mailing list.  Interesting that you've been in California all this time.  I came out here in 1990, just after Barnet and for the same reason.  I worked in TV till my brain was oozing out my ears and then went back to teaching.  That's pretty much what I'm still doing though part-time.  Did you come to California after college?  The timing would seem about right.  Good to know you're well.]
   
    And Jessica wrote:  Well, college was definitely not a smooth four-year path though it may seem so by mere chronology.  I went to SUNY Albany, but I was asked to leave because I demonstrated in Washington against the Vietnam War -- there was an administrator out to get us, and that happened although we broke no laws.  So then I went home -- a mistake -- and to Queens College for a year.  Then I petitioned to get back into Albany and did for a while, but I left before I graduated.  After visiting my brother Neil in San Francisco, I sent for my things.  After working a while, I went back to school and graduated from San Francisco State.  My college diploma is signed by S. I. Hiyakawa, the infamous United States Senator, and Ronald Reagan, then governor.  Feel free to share this tidbit and my earlier e-mail in your class's newsletter as it may connect with someone.  I'd like that.  My e-mail address is:  jessicacol@comcast.net
   
    [Rich -- And I wrote:  That's just neat, and it's far better than simply having a diploma from SUNY Albany.  You actually learned something in college.  And this is exactly the kind of story people like to hear.  I'll pass it on.  Thanks.]
   
    The other adventure involves Robert Fiveson.  He caught up with us by writing:
   
    From Robert:  Greetings from an end of the earth.  It's rum and rainwater time, having just come across Almirante Bay and seen dolphins while I made the now-routine 25 minute crossing.  The port is exclusively devoted to loading Chiquita bananas, which are destined for Europe and Scandinavia.  I already have interest in a documentary about the science of bananas, which is very high tech and interesting.  Almirante is a really rough-and-tumble Caribe town.  Lots of unemployment and poverty, but still everyone is friendly and the place is alive and vibrant with activity.  It's definitely not a tourist destination though.  I was schmoozing a local bar owner, who has his fingers in lots of pies.  The reason is simple -- I am embarking on a mission, literally.  A man I worked for 25 years ago is here, and we are doing a recce on forming a charitable organization to fit a trawler as a traveling medical facility to service the local Guaymi indians.  They live on these islands and have a lot less than nothing.   If they get sick, they can't even afford the gas it takes to get to a hospital, and their small dugout log cayugas would take them hours and hours to make the trips in, allowing that the water is calm.  You have to realize, this is a place where children paddle two hours each way just to go to school every day.  This fellow and I worked together when he had the world's second largest international relief agency and world's largest Bible smuggling operation to behind the Iron Curtain.  During those days, I raised $33 million just for Ethiopian aid alone, so we know we can do this because we have done it before.  Granted, this time, we're working from the ground up.  That's some of what my life is like these days.  Just some.  Nothing is easy or fast here, but I have never been slimmer, more fit, or more in love with being alive.
        One last thing -- Andy Dolich, I owe you, so come on down here, and we'll fish the edge, where it goes from 60 to 600 feet, and snag some Sierra and Tuna.  I traded my Prius for a 27-foot panga with a center console and a 100 Yammie 4 stroke.  Your room is ready.
   
    [Rich -- And I answered:  I was wondering how you were, Robert.  Actually, several people have wondered how you were doing, so just keep writing and letting us know.  Makes the rest of us feel connected to the adventure you're having.
        And what's "recce" mean, as in "doing a recce on forming a charitable org."
        And how's your wife adapting?  And does your son visit from school?  It seems like they'd be foolish to miss out.  Of course, you don't see me budging from California.]
   
    And Robert replied:  "Recce" is military for "reconnaissance."
        Typical day:  I go to Almirante, where they ship Chiquita bananas from, and on the way back, my boat not only stops but smells like it wants to burn.  This, after the kid at the pump over-pumped it, and I now have 53 gallons in the tank and at least a pint in the bilge.  I manage to call a friend, who tows me back with his panga full of people, and I tie up next to a restaurant.  Then, I spend all day lying around, waiting for a mechanic, who shows at 4:00 PM -- which I was happy about because sleeping on a slowly rolling boat is a form of hypnotic induction to enter a transcendental state of bliss.  He shows, and by the time he figures out what's what, he has gone home 3 times on his bike and returned to work with a flashlight in his mouth.  The voltage regulator is toast.  Try and find one of these within 300 miles -- actually that's going to be a part of my day tomorrow.  Then, an ex-pat Brit shows up at the restaurant, to see if a generator has been delivered yet -- it won't show for another two hours -- and he offers to tow me the ten miles in total darkness to my house.  That's impossible to see, not to mention, it's ringed by a reef -- as are all the mangrove islands we must avoid.  Got home and saw three million stars.  Now, here's the really whacko part -- while in the dark being towed, my cell phone rings, and my partner in the States tells me we have gotten a preliminary deal memo for what could be a lucrative and ground breaking deal between Smithsonian and Chopard.  All this, while I am looking up at the stars and hoping I don't hear my motor scraping coral.  Rum and rainwater is my only reward.  I now realize why secluded writers become drunks -- or worse.
        Yes, Josh was in for spring break, and he loves it here.  Monica has cut a deal -- I can live on Bocas as long as she can go to the city now and then, so she is on her way to a condo we bought and will rent out when we are not there -- "we" being mostly "she" because, at this point, I have little use for the smell of diesel and the sound of honking horns.
   
    [Rich -- And, yes, there's more to report from my ordinary trip east to South for 9th Grade Career Day.  But I've written enough this week.]