1981

Spring in this, our nation's capital.

You are sitting on a ratty tour bus, the nasal twang of a guide imparting the mineral constituency of an obscure statue in a nameless park. It's 8:23 in the morning; you haven't even had time to grab juice or coffee. Looking through the brown, plastic window of the bus, you see me running down the street shirt half-buttoned, tie whipping across my chin, papers falling from between my arm and rib cage. I look up.

In my abject disgust at your gawking, I drop to all fours and chase you down the street, barking like a terrier. As your bus makes a sharp turn, I skid into the rear bumper and splay on the asphalt - a pathetic three-piece sight. Sure, sure, you laugh, point, and have a good time at my expense. What do you care? I'll still be running to work when you're sipping orange juice and coffee with the 56 other bus-riding cheesebrains who also saw me make an utter buffoon of myself.

And now you want me to tell you the class news? Fat chance. Well, okay but you can only toy with my emotions so long.

Let's begin in our common corner of the world, shall we? Marv. Lisa Conte is back in Hanover, pursuing a master's in business assault at Tuck. Having already completed her degree in physiology and pharmacology at UCSD, Lisa soon should be prepared to follow in John DeLorean's corporate footsteps.

Andy Bramante is also up thataway; living in Thetford and working as a marketing rep for IBM. Andy was married three years ago, and his wife gave birth to their first son a year ago. You'll have to ask Andy what he plans to do for 1984.

Just out of stints in insurance and automobile finance in New Hampshire, StanSmith has set up shop in Concord, Mass., where he is juggling work as a "projects administrator," as a reporter for The ConcordJournal, and as a self-confessed "warbling baritone" in a local choir. Another recent Massachusetts immigrant, Gay Macomber, is serving cappucinno in Cambridge, having retreated from the "Haight and its dinosaurs" in San Francisco. Now I'm sure that Gay was not impunging the characters of myriad '81s who are living in that part of the Sunstroke State. But since I'm writing this, and she isn't, why not raise a bunch of sordid innuendos for the fun of it?

As I said, there are a slew of classvolk in California, such as a tort-bent contingent at Berkeley that includes Wendy Whitlock,Beth Harris, and Kim Dunn. Wheeling and dealing among the litigators-in-training on this coast is Martha Wharton. Never one to shy from telling me when I was sitting on my hands and talking through my hat, Martha hardly surprised me by capturing honors at Dickinson Law School's moot court competition earlier this year.

While that announcement was par for Martha's course, this next bit of tid is astounding: Ty Burr continues to inhabit the civilized world. That honorary '81 has been in and out of this, our nation's capital, in recent months giving me the boundless joy of his company. (Infer snide tone here.) When he's in New York, Ty is not only responsible for some of the movie (a.k.a. "film") choices made by HBO he's now toting around his own twisted screenplay. (Be assured, I've previewed the thing.) The theme: death by psoriatic celluloid.

Ty will be taking his frightening manuscript out to southern California in the not too distant. If he hurries, he may be able to catch the departure of Tom Boltja, who has just graduated from the U.S. Air Force navigatortraining base at Mather. Tom was awarded his silver wings and now heads to Guam. I guess success does not necessarily bring rewards in the military.

Back in the civilian world, soon to be the clerical world, Bruce McKenzie has completed his second of three years at Lake Forest Divinity School. After seminary, Bruce says, he will be going overseas to learn the art of revivals. Actually, if he really wants to revive someone, Bruce could start with me my editors have been claiming that I've been brain dead for about six months now.

Which brings me to Jenny Toolin. There, that's enough of that now, isn't it?

Let's get back to some real news. Pat Malloy is finishing up his three years of studying immunology at the University of Massachusetts. (Pat, buddy, there are a number of epidemiological studies to be done on the current administration if you're looking for field work.) Pat will also be marrying in June, though the details are remaining clandestine to protect the guilty.

Another marriage scheduled for June: JimPrevost. Jim, you'll recall, left GE and the exciting world! of Cleveland, Ohio, to go to Harvard Business School. So where will Jim be spending his first summer out of school with his bride? Akron. I'm through with cause and effect that does it.

A couple of final notes on some other bigbiz types. Ty Po has taken his investment banking skills on the free-agent trail. Ty has left Morgan for the corporate pool of Chemical Bank, where he will be in training to yank some multinational strings. Liz Kramer, meanwhile, has finished her thesis and M. B. A. at NYU - but have no fear, she won't become a C.P.A. or an SOB (which would be quite an anatomical feat anyway.) Liz will become part of Irving Trust's domestic operations though how anyone could trust a bank named Irving is beyond me. Really you wouldn't trust a bank named Ralph, would you? Well, maybe you would.

Anyway, I'm done now, boys and girls. Soon I'll be rushing off to Green Key Weekend, whence I'll report all the sordid, lewd, licentious, vile, and utterly puerile activities to you next month. Until then, just remember one thing.

1640 19th Street Washington, DC 20009