Alumni Sandstorm ~ SAMPLE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
22 Bombers
Keith Clark ('47), Ann Pearson ('50), Kay Mitchell ('52)
Dick Wight ('52), Gail Henderson ('53), Marilyn Peddicord ('53)
Norma Boswell ('53), Sue Garrison ('58), Vera Smith ('58)
Billye Conley ('61), Ann McCue ('63), Carol Wiley ('63)
Ray Stein ('64), Linda McKnight ('65), Patti McLaughlin ('65)
Mike Sheeran ('66), Lynn-Marie Hatcher ('68), Jeff Curtis ('69)
Brad Upton ('74), Kareana Hupp ('89), Mona Morris ('90), 
Sara Gonzales ('96)
*******************************************************
*******************************************************
>>From: Keith Clark ('47)

To: on-line classmates from 1945-1949

Would like to hear from you....
*******************************************************
*******************************************************
>>From: Ann Pearson Burrows ('50)

    For all of you that knew Dr. Peterson from Kadlec Hospital - 
Dr. Pete died in 1998 at a rest home in Oregon.
    Also, any of you who remember my mother, Thelma Pearson, she is 
now living in the San Diego area and would love visitors. She was the 
art teacher for years - Jefferson Grade School, Chief Joe etc.
    Also Ralph Myrick ('51) - did you tell the bowler hello for me? - 
maybe he doesn't remember me oh well...

-Ann Pearson Burrows ('50)
*******************************************************
*******************************************************
>>From: Mary Kay Mitchell Coates ('52)

   I received one of the little cedar boxes, which I still have, when 
I graduated in 1952. It contains my special treasures - the key, however, is long gone.
   As to the murder of Mrs. Wight (spelling was not W-h-i-t-e), I too 
remember it well. Dick Wight ('52) was a special friend of mine and I 
knew his father well, but had never met his step-mother. I visited 
with Dick and his wife, Ruth, last year at our class reunion and we 
discussed this event - my memory is that he stated it is still 
unsolved. Now my curiosity is getting the best of me, and I will call 
him to find out for sure how this story ended. I will e-mail my 
findings to Alumni Sandstorm.

-Mary Kay Mitchell Coates ('52)
*******************************************************
*******************************************************
>>From: Dick Wight ('52)

Subject: "Nurse White murder"
    Kay Mitchell Coates ('52) called and then sent me a bunch of 
stuff on the "Nurse White" murder in 1960. Her real name was Edna 
Burke Wight. She was my stepmother, married to my father in '46 about 
the time she was released from the Army as a WW II nurse. We lived in 
Ellensburg and moved to Richland in '48. Dad was a captain on the 
Richland fire department, later asst. chief and then chief until 
he retired in '71 or so. He died at Kadlec Hospital in '78  from 
complications of an infection following surgery.
    Edna was the victim of a woman who apparently thought she was 
entering the home of a psychiatrist name Dr. Such who lived across 
the street. She apparently went into some sort of rage and killed my 
stepmother with a knife (never found) and by strangulation. She was 
never a suspect (as best I know) until she described the murder during 
therapy in the mid '70s in California, where (I'm told) she was 
permanently institutionalized. The Richland police told dad - and he 
agreed - that extradiciton and trying her was a waste.
    The father of Rod Linkous ('53) was lead investigator on the case 
and died in the early '60s wthout being able to solve it, though he 
tried mightily. He was my father's friend through it all, which speaks 
to the senseless rumors that my father was a suspect or involved in 
any way.
    Edna and my father are buried side-by-side in the small cemetary 
just SW of the "uptown" district. Can't remember the street name, but 
my most recent visit to the grave site was about 2 weeks ago.
    There are much more pleasant memories of my Col Hi years than this 
one, and I'd hope it slips away from the Alumni Sandstorm web site. It 
was sensational, shocking etc..... but even worse for those of us in 
the family. Dad and I loved "Eddie". She was a good person, a great 
surgical nurse at Kadlec, and a senseless victim of a meaningless 
crime. One speculator mentioned the theory the killer went to Eddie 
for drugs. Rediculous. Strong coffee was too much for her!!
    Anyhow, I'll share more pleasant memories in the future.

-Richard "Dick" Wight ('52)
*******************************************************
*******************************************************
>>From: Gail Henderson Renner ('53)

Re: The question about the pre-fab roof on the house ornaments 

    I think the flat roof should be chosen even tho' there are no more 
in town. But in the beginning we had flat roofs and they were the ones 
that blew off in the wind storms. Which gives them more distinction in 
the comics.
    I am really enjoying all the early memories.

Keep up the good work...
-Gail Henderson ('53)
*******************************************************
*******************************************************
>>From: Marilyn Peddicord Whitley ('53)

Hello all you Bombersa, 

My granddad's farm bordered the Old Richland Hi property. They raised
asparagus. My sister, Kassie ('55-RIP), and I both went to Lewis and
Clark. I was the student body president when in the 8th grade - the
same year everyone moved to Carmichael. We were 4-Hers - remember the
County fairs and the state fair, too. We did lots of sewing - and
cooking... won many ribbons. Mrs. Liggett was the leader and later
Ronnie Yates's mom. We lived in our tract house on Lee Blvd. until I
graduated from H.S. - Mother, Dad and Kassie moved to a street off
Hunt Point - Gilliard Drive - while I was away at college. Mother 
still lives there.

I'm enjoying all the memories and, like the rest of us, realize what 
a special and historic place we all grew up in.

-Marilyn Peddicord Whitley ('53)
*******************************************************
*******************************************************
>>From: Norma Loescher Boswell ('53)

   "Termination winds," our parents called them. Brown, blinding winds 
rattled windows, shook walls and blew drifts of sharp sand into every 
crevice. After each episode came the whir of the vacuum and the whisk 
of the broom. Keeping a Richland prefab clean was never easy. We heard 
tales of immigrants returning home because of these winds. Not us, of 
course. Stubborn German stock, the Loeschers, bolstered  by resilient 
English lineage.
   Children of such people could deal with sandstorms.
   My first sandstorm came as I was learning the bus system. It was 
1944 and I was eight years old and going to Sacajawea Grade School. 
Marcus Whitman was on the school system's drawing board and would soon 
be built near my neighborhood on Thayer Drive. "Sacky" was a few miles 
north on Thayer and then a few blocks east on Williams Boulevard.
   I was wool-gathering on the bus home from school when I noticed the 
blue sky turning brown. Newly planted trees began to bend and point 
south. The bus turned a corner and I heard the wind whistling for 
attention. Sand hissed like rattlesnakes on the metal skin of the bus. 
I looked for street signs and panicked. There were none I could
recognize! Through the thick brown air I managed to pick out a street 
sign  Duportail. I stood and pulled the overhead cord that signaled 
the driver to stop.
   As the bus departed, I saw I had missed my regular stop. This was 
not Thayer, but Smith. I ran back back along the way the bus had come, 
checking the intersection signs. Eyes squinted into slits. Bare legs 
were peppered with grit.
   There was Sanford. I was getting warm!
   Luckily, it was Indian Summer. I felt no cold, only embarrassment, 
chagrin, sand pins in my legs and increasingly wet eyes. I could run 
faster without books in my arms, but I held them close to my chest, 
protecting them as they armored me.
   I passed Rossell, then Robert, and finally turned left on Thayer. 
There were the welcoming pots of red geraniums on our white porch and 
tropical foliaged drapes in the windows. Home had never looked better.
   "Shut the door, quick!" Mom said as I burst in. "I just finished 
vacuuming before the sand started blowing." Then she added, "Look at 
those red legs!"
   After my story she shook her head. "Where did you get your sense of 
direction?" she joked. "Well, sandstorms make all these houses look 
alike."
   Today I still see those 1944 rows of flat-topped houses sitting 
like cracker boxes on bare sand. Before long our lawns grew. Trees and 
other plants anchored the sand. After that time, sandstorms seemed 
more civil, depositing more than they took away. Now they are part of 
Richland's character, woven into our lore. Richland High School's
newspaper has been called the Sandstorm for more than half a century.

Bomber cheers,
Norma Loescher Boswell ('53)
*******************************************************
*******************************************************
>>From: Joretta "Sue" Garrison Pritchett ('58)

We've ordered more A-house ornaments, and B-house ornaments. See order 
form below. We're hoping money from pre-sales will pay for the next 
two ornaments (Ranch House-Y, and Prefab).  We'll place that order as 
quickly as we have money to do it.

ALPHABET HOUSE ORNAMENTS

Richland' "alphabet houses" (A-house, B-house, etc.) are being 
remembered in a unique way. Light-weight "genuine 24K gold finish 
brass" ornaments (A & B) have been designed. These ornaments (for your 
window, souvenir, or Christmas) will be a unique gift for parents, 
neighbors and friends, children, and grandchildren.

The ornaments will be available approximately June 1, 1999. They will 
be sold at the GIFT SHOP at the Richland Senior Center for $4.00 each, 
or they may be purchased by mail for $5.00 each (price includes shipping/handling).

NOTE: Proceeds from these sales will go to the Building Fund for a new 
Richland Senior Center.

-Sue Garrison Pritchett ('58)
*******************************************************
*******************************************************
>>From: Vera Smith Robbins ('58)

     I really didn't think I had any interesting memories to share 
with anyone until today while reading recent stories from others.
     My Poppy moved my mom and I to Richland in 1944. He had gotten a 
prefab on Potter (1210 or 1208) can't remember the address. Anyway, 
Pop was on graveyard and it was early evening when we [first] arrived 
at the house. Mom dumped the sand off the mattress, spread a sheet on 
it for my Pop to lay down and get some sleep before having to go out 
to the area. Then Mom and I went to grocery store to "stock up". When 
we finished we started home. HOWEVER, there were NO street signs and 
Mom couldn't remember where we lived. Also, all the prefabs looked 
alike in that area and she couldn't remember the little number that 
was at the base of the house. We drove up and down the dirt roads 
trying to find our house. She said it was something like 2 or 3 hours!
It was getting closer and closer to the time she needed to wake Pop up 
for work. Needless to say, she finally found it, but she was almost in 
tears by then. Can you imagine all the houses looking alike, no street 
signs and it's dark!

-Vera Smith Robbins ('58)
*******************************************************
*******************************************************
>>From: Billye Conley Drew ('61)

To: Mary Sullivan ('64)

I also remember the Harlem Globetrotters coming to Richland and 
playing in the high school gymnasium. I was very young and I remember 
that they would pick people from the stands to shoot baskets, and if
they missed they would have to remove their socks, they would smell 
them, etc. I guess I was afraid I would get picked and be forced to 
"strip" so I would hide below my seat until they began play again.

I also remember when a company bus driver suffered a heart attack with 
an empty bus just as he crossed what was once an irrigation ditch on 
Thayer Drive right before Long Ave. The bus veered to the right across 
the corner edge of the lawn of our "A" house at 926 Thayer Drive, 
crossed a dirt alley and plowed into the back of another "A" house on 
Swift Ave. I was home sick that day, and Dr. Albertowicz was coroner
for the heart attack victim and then he walked right over to our house 
with his black bag to check out my sore throat.

-Billye Conley Drew ('61)
*******************************************************
*******************************************************
>>From: Ann McCue Hewett ('63)

   Good morning! I look forward to my Alumni Sandstorm each day. I 
print it out and have to wait until I get home from work to read it... 
what a way to start and end a day! It is wonderful. Thanks again.
   The grocery story at GWWay and McMurray was Kaisers, I believe. 
(The was some comment about it the other day.)
   Have a great day....and  THANKS FOR THE MEMORIES!

-Ann McCue Hewett ('63)
**************************************************
>>From: Carol Wiley-Wooley ('63)

    As I read all the terrific memories that everyone is writing I 
regressed to those weird days of Jr. High.... and along with the 
great  memories of Mrs. Edwards (who I actually learned from) and 
Mrs. Jernigan (I fell in love in her classroom) I remembered the 
words to that Carmichael fight song??!!

When the Carmichael Cougars fall in line
We're gonna win that game another time
We're gonna sing and yell for blue and white
Because the Cougars team is always full of fight..
We're gonna cheer, cheer, cheer our team right now,
'Cause when we do
They'll show us they know how
To make the scoreboard flicker
Hit 'em high!! Hit em' low!!
Cougars GO!!!!!!!!!

-Carol Wiley ('63)
**************************************************
>>From Ray Stein ('64)

    With all the interest on this site about Richland's history, I 
thought I would share an old newspaper. My mother kept the Tuesday, 
August 14th, 1945 issue of the Villager. The headline screams in 4" 
letters "PEACE!", and below that it says, "OUR BOMB CLINCHED IT!". 
There are several interesting articles with quotes from people at 
Ganzel's Barber Shop. But I think one of the articles sums up how most 
of our parents felt at that time. I'll quote it word for word below:

"It's Peace"

"It's Peace," was heard first by village housewives who had done their 
housework with one ear listening to the radio since Friday morning 
when announcement was first made of the Japs peace feelers.

"It's Peace," they screamed to anxiously awaiting husbands as soon as 
jammed switchboards permitted their calls to go through.

"It's Peace," shouted the men to others in the office, warehouses, 
plants, stores and streets.

The four-and-one-half long years of war were over at last. Sons, 
brothers and fathers - some of them - would be coming home now. 
Villagers exulted! The slaughter was stopped. Villagers were thankful!

A bomb made in Hanford helped clinch the victory. Villagers were proud!

As the lights went (o)n all over the world the villagers joined with 
the rest of the world in one joyous, surging son(g) - "IT'S PEACE!"

These are not my words, but taken verbatim from the Villager. I added 
() letters that seemed to be left out. 

I suppose these newspapers are available in archives, but if anyone 
wants a copy of this, let me know.

Take care,
-Ray Stein (64)
**************************************************
>>From: Linda McKnight ('65)

    I would love the cinnamon roll recipe, and the chili recipe too. 
Talk about it being a small world. In 1988, I went to work for New 
York Life Ins. in Portland, OR. A fellow employee there by the name of 
Janice Wilson just happened to graduate from Richland in '81 or '82, 
can't remember what she said. Anyway, I talked to Janice the other
day and told her about this site, and we started major drooling over 
Spudnuts, cinnamon rolls, and chili. The girl can still eat like a 
horse and not gain weight. I always told people Janice and I graduated 
from the same school, just a couple years apart!!!!

-Linda McKnight ('65)
**************************************************
>>From: Patti McLaughlin Cleavinger ('65)

    Kippy Brinkman ('62) was a very successful lounge musician in Las 
Vegas until her retirement. She played the harp. She and her husband 
sailed along the Pacific Coast of the Americas one year for fun. She 
was my idol when I was a little girl. She ran for Miss Washington 
twice. When she did get to the Miss America Pageant, she won some 
money for her musical talent. What a pretty woman.

-Patti McLaughlin Cleavinger ('65)
**************************************************
>From: Mike Sheeran ('66)

    In answer to Mary Sullivan's ('64) question regarding the bringing 
of the Harlem Globetrotters to town in '57-'59... Clem Sheeran (well 
ahead of his time)...

-Mike Sheeran ('66)
*******************************************************
*******************************************************
>>From: Lynn-Marie Hatcher ('68)

    You know, I was just reading the 12/6 Alumni Sandstorm (since it's 
the morning of 12/6 as I am writing this). It was a little of this, a 
little of that. I came across Karen Davis Scheffer's ('76) entry, 
wishing her brother, Mike Davis ('74)  a Happy Birthday. 
    Now here is what struck me -- and actually brought tears to my 
eyes for a moment. I don't know the Davis family personally. In fact, 
most of the people who write entries to the Sandstorm I have never 
met. But I have been reading since February, 2000. And after nearly 
four years, of being a privileged member of our Bomber cyber-
community, even those of you I haven't met seem like at least 
acquaintances, many like friends, and a few even like family.
    I remember when Mr. Davis died, for example. You know, I grieved 
for his family, and still think of B.J. (especially) so often -- in 
particular now with the holidays here. (Always a hard time to get 
through without one's beloved.) 
    I have never (yet) seen a Larry Mattingly ('60) 'sky in bloom' 
display, but I am so proud of the incredible work he does. I've never 
(yet) been to a Brad Upton ('74) comedy concert -- but I love how he 
makes everyone laugh. I don't know most of the people to whom David 
Rivers ('65) (who I also don't know) addresses his Birthday greetings 
-- but I join him in wishing them birthday joy -- and in celebrating 
the essence of each one of them, through David's writing. 
    And remember how we all 'went' with Maren to New Orleans for 
Abigail's birth? We have celebrated the arrival of a lot of babies 
and grand babies, here, too. And weddings. And job successes, anniversaries, etc.
    How about all the prayers that have been solicited and freely 
raised up when one or another of us (or someone we love) has been 
facing illness, surgery, or some other trial or affliction or hard 
time? How about the words of encouragement, when we tell one another 
we are feeling overwhelmed by ... (you fill in the blank ... for me 
it's been grad school!) How about all the suggestions for places to 
see on vacation, real estate agents to contact when one of us is 
moving to a new city, the cheapest/best way to get medications, etc, 
etc, etc.
    I could go on and on.
    But what I am getting at is this, I guess. What a blessing it is 
to be connected the way we are -- to greater and lesser degrees, to 
be sure. But still ... think of someone you know (and we ALL know 
someone) who really has no connections to anyone. Then, join with me 
in giving thanks for 'belonging' to and with one another the way we do 
here.
    I graduated 35 (WOW!) years ago -- and know for certain that I 
could post a need or question to this Bomber forum today, and have 
responses within a day, at most -- from Bombers of all ages. And 
that's NOT because I am special -- it's because this is a VERY, VERY 
special creation, the Bomber Alumni Sandstorm.
    Happy Advent and Christmas Blessings to my very extended family on 
the Sandstorm.

-Lynn-Marie Hatcher ('68)
*******************************************************
*******************************************************
>>From: Jeff Curtis ('69)

    Intimidated (and out-of-it) as I was in the 7th grade environment
at Chief Jo, I just had to see what a "sock-hop" involved. I cost me a
dime. The fact that this was the same price as a bag of popcorn in the
school store was not lost on me. I hoped that I wasn't wasting
perfectly good snack money for nothing. I entered the Warrior Gym with
The Beatles' "I'm Down" blaring with jagged distortion on the sound
system. But the whole gymnasium was alive with the kind of vibrant
energy and excitement that only a room full of a couple of hundred
teenagers can generate. Although there was a significant amount of
"couples" dancing, there was also a throng of kids just dancing
solo/together and an occasional line-dance like the stroll or
something. I removed my shoes and worried about foot odor for the
first time in my life. But -ah, the gym was festive. It was electric.
It was joyful. It was a happening like I had never seen before. It was
also going to be a big problem getting up enough nerve to ask a real
girl to dance with me. From kindergarten through the 6th grade, I had
seen my relationship with girls pretty much like my relationship with
my little brother. I never asked to have them (him) around but didn't
have a lot of choice in the matter. But both provided an easily
accessible shoulder to slug or a slow moving snowball target. And, of
course, I was equally unpopular with both. Now I was faced with an
unprecedented dilemma. Not only did I actually care about how I was
perceived by the female population, but I also sensed their unlimited
power to crush my self image with a simple rejection. Who the hell
would ever consent to dance with me? I had a crew cut in a mop-top
world. I was outfitted off the rack from JC Penny's not Dawson-
Richards. And (and this is pretty significant), I had NEVER DANCED
BEFORE! Why then, you may ask, would I want to put myself through the
stress of possible rejection and the resulting personal humiliation to
follow? Perhaps love hadn't had the chance to pummel my ego into
submission in those early years. Or perhaps I needed to do this to
establish my (minimally) emerging adolescence. I really can't say.
Something pushed me to make a choice and go for it, so I did.
    I spotted the blissfully unaware Maryann Last sitting in the
bleachers. She was so cute with red hair, blue eyes and a great smile
- definitely out of my league. Hell, I really had no league at that
point. But she met the most important criteria - no one else had
snagged her yet. The hop was winding down and this would be one of the
last opportunities to get "into the game". Time was running out! I
approached her cautiously. She wasn't looking my direction when I
approached so there would be no reading her reaction to my impending
presence. This probably worked in my favor. She never had the chance
to work up a polite rejection and I never had to see her sweating to
think one up. I had the age old advantage of surprise on my side. I
walked boldly in front of her and stammered "W,Would you l,l,like to
dance?" She turned her head and looked at me, smiled and said "Sure!".
I was blown away.
    As we walked out onto the gym floor I realized (as I previously
mentioned) that I was not an accomplished dancer. Other than a couple
of lessons from older teen neighbor Marcy Rue, which never went that
well anyway, I had never danced before. This was not a real good time
to have this sudden awareness. But I really wasn't all that worried.
Observing the dance floor earlier had confirmed the fact that pretty
much any bodily contortions when strung together kind of matching the
tempo of the tune were acceptable. Maybe not at "seizure" levels, but
generally a pretty broad tolerance of style was evident. I could do
this.
   Now, awkwardly facing each other in the middle of the gym we waited
for the beat to kick in. Pat Barnes was doing the DJ duties and I saw
him move the armature of the turntable onto the 45 he had selected. I
was ready to boogie!! Crackle... crackle.... hiss.... pop.... She wore
Bluuuuuuuue Vel... vet......

OH!    MY!     GOD!    A slow song. I never thought of the possibility 
of a "slow" song. I was going to have to touch her. A girl. A real
girl! Beads of sweat began forming on my forehead. There was no time
to make any other arrangements. Maryann moved toward me, clasped both
of her hands behind my neck and put her head on my shoulder. I wrapped
my arms around her waist and we began slowly rocking back and forth to
the music. Feelings both physical and emotional stirred in me for the
first time, feelings that would become more familiar in the coming
years. But this was a first. As the song ended and we politely thanked
each other for the dance, I strode out of the gym feeling completely
victorious. I had met the challenge head-on and had come away
unscathed.
    You know, you only get a few firsts in your life. And they only
happen once. I wish that I could remember with such clarity more of
these events that marked my life but I will have to be content with
the few that have endured. However, one of them will always be Bobby
Vinton crooning "Blue Velvet", the scene of the packed gym at Chief
Jo, the excitement of happy anticipation emanating from the kids, and
a young teen girl who took pity on a geeky 7th grader and created a
fond memory for him.
    Thanks again for the dance, Maryann.

-Jeff Curtis ('69)
*******************************************************
*******************************************************
>>From: Brad Upton ('74)

    Doesn't everybody see it? Everyone writes in wondering about the 
long term effects of riding through the mosquito fogger and at the 
same time claiming a lifetime urge for Spudnuts. Am I the only one 
seeing this correlation? The answer is out there.

-Brad Upton ('74)
*******************************************************
*******************************************************
>>From: Kareana Hupp McColloch ('89)

     Well hello Ramona. How are you these days? I am doing fine. Yes 
it is great to see us late '80s and early '90s corresponding. I will 
send you an email and chat with you.

-Kareana Hupp McColloch ('89)
*******************************************************
*******************************************************
>>From: Ramona "Mona" Morris Lenzke ('90)

    I was just wondering last week when someone I knew would show up 
here. Kareana, how are you doing? I am glad to see some of us from the 
late '80s and early '90s corresponding here. Hope all is well with 
everyone.

-Ramona Morris Lenzke ('90)
*******************************************************
*******************************************************
>>From: Sara Gonzales ('96)

    Just a little note, My name is Sara Gonzales (class of 1996). Not 
quite what you guys were looking for, but just wanted you to know that 
this is a great thing you are doing. My mother doesn't have an email 
address so she is using mine to receive her Alumni Sandstorm. She is 
Susan Ward Gonzales ('65). My aunts are Sherri Ward ('63) and Sandi 
Ward ('66) (both with new last names). Just wanted to let you know 
that even though a lot of people say that kids nowadays don't feel
anything, everyone who graduates from RHS feels the same way you guys 
do about it. The Bomber Pride is just something that you will have 
forever. It will always be our school.
     This is a great thing you guys are doing, thanks for listening, 
oh yeah my sister is also Bomber Alumni, Joni Gonzales ('89). We are a 
total Bomber Family.

Bomber Pride,
Sara Gonzales ('96)
    P.S. Thought I would share our class's Senior Motto with you: 
          Growing up tall and proud,
          in the shadow of the mushroom cloud.
========================================
****************************************
All Bomber Alumni Links can be found at RichlandBombers.com
      ****************************************
Click on the AlumniSandstorm.com graphic to find a Spudnut Wanna Be 
Recipe and other recipes for Zip's Tarter Sauce, Artic Circle Special 
Sauce, Richland School District Chili and Cinnamon Rolls
*****************************************
Alumni Sandstorm is a joint effort started by 
Gary Behymer ('64) and Maren Smyth ('64)
**********************************************
**********************************************
That's it for this SAMPLE. Send YOUR memories.
**********************************************