1983

Sing it, Mikey Coster!!! "Ba-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah La Bamba!! Arriba, Arriba!! Te necesito . . ." Can you blame him? Or Kathy Coster, for that matter? The ex-San Diegans now are proud parents of a smiling bambino named Katherine, and are looking forward to a winter of captivity in their South Boston sanctuary.

The holidays are coming, snow has dusted the ground, Santa's reindeer are loading up on their carbohydrates, and your class scribe is in an unusually buoyant mood. With that, here is the first "Christmas/Hanukkah Wish List," with a few closing memories of 1988 thrown in.

To Lisa Feinberg: a pair of fast Skiis, plenty of powder snow, and an order never to ski Tuckerman's after Memorial Day.

To Roger Baumann: A Stanley Cup for the New York Rangers or a girlfriend, whichever comes first.

To Dan Albright: Better penmanship. No question about it.

To Sandy Bryan: Somehow, some way, please make the U.S. Women's Olympic field hockey team a force in time for the Barcelona Summer Games of 1992.

To Edmond William Cattan, the 78th: Perspective. Once upon a time you lived in the fourth floor of a crumbling house next, to "The Bullseye." Classroom attendance was, yes you admit it, optional. Marriage, a home in the Washington, D.C., suburbs, and law school have smoothed the turbulence of those adolescent years. Haven't they? Think about it.

To Greg Curhan: A successful new business venture out on the Left Coast, and hopes that your investment fund never gets whip-sawed. Or loses money. Whatever.

To John David: I looked long and hard for you at our sth Reunion. Remember that intramural hockey game when you got mad and absolutely squashed some fat fraternity fay into the boards at Thompson? Rememer how the guy never moved for five minutes? That was me. I just wanted you to know that I've gained even more weight and am harder to knock down now. Thank you.

To Eileen Lynch: After watching you dance, every single cassette tape put out by "The Worms." The lead guitarist says he'd never seen anybody doing cartwheels and random belly flops on the dance floor before two songs had been played.

To Mark Ericksen: The tacit understanding that some day, at least in this world, you'll realize that going to Italy to "hang out" for a year opens you up to severe abuse by your peers. Then again, so would anything else you did.

To Mike Golub: The ability to forget. It was rainy and cold at Shea Stadium. There was Keith Hernandez running towards third base. Ooops! Keith slipped. Oooops! Keith fell into the mud. Keith tried to crawl to third base. Even the umpire was laughing. Out by a mile. Then there was Wally Backman's dead duck flip to second base for the easy force . . . no-o-o! It's too high! Stanford B-School could not possibly have prepared you for this. No way.

To Carey Wilson: A productive season in the NHL. With the understanding, of course, that you never beat the Bruins. If you do, it could get tough for you in this column.

And, to Jenny Hanley and other '83s associated with the famous Harvard "Tailgate" party, a wish that these newer traditions never fail.

Happy Holidays to all and as for 1989? Don't worry. Be happy.

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