DOWN MEMORY LANE
Recollections and memories of our classmates
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The Best Years of Our Lives!
by Tamrat Worku
At the 30th reunion, I was struck by the fact that guys I had not seen 10, 20 and in some cases 30 years, picked-up where we left off in high school - back at dear old St. Joe's. I sensed genuine good feelings being displayed and shared by all. No pretenses or phoniness. No attempt to impress or put on a front, just plain genuine celebration of each other. I am sure you will agree when you see the video "mastermix" which highlights many of the memorable moments of the reunion.
The reunion transported me back to our high school years - the fabulous 60's. We were blessed. We were spared the many trials and tribulations that our brethren experienced in the subsequent decades. We came along at the right time. St. Joe was a haven for learning, growing and developing lasting friendships. My best friends today are those I made back then. Yes, I have a made a handful of friends here during my college years; and I maintain some contact. I have acquaintances from work, but still it is the friendships made in high school, middle school and even elementary school that I value-- especially, as we approach middle age!!!
The one thing we missed at St. Joe's was girls! Girls! Girls! Girls! Can you imagine what kind of students we would have been had we had those fine girls in our classes. I can see some of us getting in trouble often and getting sent to Brother Martin's office for disciplinary action; and probably a few more fist fights over those fine girls...
How many of you remember when we used to sit out on that brick wall across the school -lunchtime and after school - watching the girls from nearby schools go by; and of course the key players of the era would try their rap.... Sorry, some of you may have missed this because you were being picked up right at the end of school or had to hurry up to catch the bus. You missed one of the great pastimes - whistling away as the girls go by.
The 60s were good to us, and even though many of us struggled in our own way with adolescence, it was a good time and a good place to be; and with every passing year I look upon those years as maybe the best years of our lives!
Sweet Memories, Thanksgiving
by Habte M. Kassaye
A young man remembers the good and heroic acts of his earlier days. An old fellow like me would have to sweat every cell to recall the positive events that date back 30 years. But, I do remember, ahhh!!! David Tilahun snatching a morsel of delectable cake from a hungry Datchew Merid (himself no angel, I might add). I used to dream of a young boy riding his horse to school. Maybe you had the same dream! Or better yet, the young boy was the dreamer whose creative and energetic intuitions can only be expressed riding a horse to school on a rainy day in the middle of the winter. Do you recall such a dreamer?
Now as I stroll down memory lane, I do recall a Daniel Kifle whom I thought was from another World. I remember his smiling face, his gracious and hospitable expressions and his commitment to raise absolute hell whenever possible. He was not alone. He was in the company of Astatke Taffesse, Bisrat Lencha, Zewdu Getanhe and a few others whose temperament set the stage for all of us to participate or even take a day off. Thank You!
I shall not recall the day the whole class was tortured on behalf of a distinguished generous friend whose twenty dollars still rings in my ears. From Eskias Teshome to our beloved Zellew Yergu, row by row, isle by isle, each one of us received a blinding slap from Teacher Mesfin. I don't know of the rest of you but I still think Seifu Zewde was the most generous kid in town.
Should you remember something I will point to the broken door and our friend Cherenet Haile whose appetite for dance was not to be stopped at a closing of a high school party. He was the first martial artist I knew not to cover the activities behind the bars and alleys of that Club House. I did almost forget to mention that I assisted a young boy who will remain nameless by turning the lights on and off per instructions! I did receive payment in the form of candies the next week!
The hero of heroes was Mengestu Antenehe who bravely took upon himself the duties of a translator between his own Dad and Brother Martin, the headmaster at the time. After a bit of a struggle in recognizing the choice words Mengestu was conveying to his Dad, Brother Martin stormed out of his Office in search of another translator. Good thing his secretary was in her office! Looking back, I imagine Mengestu never cared for the choice words that Martin was trying to use.
The daily funny remarks and actions of David Tilahun, the strict and military operations of Brother Roger, the not so innocent comments of Brother Bernard and the remarkable gifts of Teshome Seyoum when seen from this end bear the marks of a great many years spent in total ecstasy!
These are the memories of yesteryears that keep feeding me with the sweet reminders of time and places, faces and events. Holding on to the past building into the future with thanksgiving and admiration to all who happen to remain in the most sacred place of my life.
Cloudy Memories... Endless Parties
author unknown at this time
There are many things of my past that I vaguely remember. A lot of my childhood and high school memories are already quite cloudy; I guess that because I did not keep a written diary about what I did.
Well, I'm not sure if this is exactly what you are looking for, but here goes.
I remember my teachers most of all. How they tried so hard to educate us, especially to prepare us for the matriculation exam, when we still had all those endless parties. I can tell you one thing though. Out of the two high schools I attended, St Joe was the one high school I remember the most. The friends I acquire there and the devoted teaching staff. Thank you St Joe, you will always be in my memories.
Was it a Horse or a Donkey?
by Alemayehu G. Mariam
The following story requires our collective memories to resolve.
I have no personal knowledge of the truth or falsity of the following story. A story has circulated for years that you had an interesting and somewhat unusual classmate. This individual is said to on a number of occasions transported himself to school on the back of a fine Arabian horse. It is said that this individual was often seen on the field adjacent to the school galloping on his horse. His legendary horsemanship is, according to some, well-known to you all. Apparently, this individual fancied himself being a cowboy or lone ranger (a la Clint Eastwood) scouring the American West.
Fessah Taye claims to know the facts, and he recounts that the alleged Arabian was actually a donkey, and at best a megazha (old horse), and instead of galloping, the poor creature hobbled and could be encouraged to even consider trotting only by a sudden landing of a stick on its dorsals.
Another individual who personally knew this "high plains rider" discredits Taye's account, who apparently once fell off a horse at Jan Meda and indeed vowed never to mount one as long as he lived... Perhaps, some of you out there may know of the true facts. Let us know.