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Bushy Tales Dedicated to all who attended London Central High School in Bushy Park, London England from 1952 to 1962 |
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| Issue #2 | April 2002 |
Volume #2 |
Gary Schroeder (55), Editor gschroeder_uscgaux@email.msn.com |
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Bushy Tales Dedicated to all who attended London Central High School in Bushy Park, London England from 1952 to 1962 |
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| Issue #2 | April 2002 |
Volume #2 |
Gary Schroeder (55), Editor gschroeder_uscgaux@email.msn.com |
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Class Representatives 1953 - Jackie (Brown) Kenny Roster Changes Alan Phillips (55) Julie Douglas Roth (58) |
Robyn Rudat Allen (58) Wendell Oren Jones (58) NY Office: Lexington
Park Jan Rodemeyer Witmer (58)
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Gunther Sturm (58) Tony Taylor (58) Lee Beach (59) Joanna Cottrell Williams (59) Ted Albert (59) William S. Husztek (59) Patricia Brady Thurman (60) Terri Hammack Morrison (60) Hugh C. Moore (61) Valerie D. (Langseth) Durkee (61) Peter Dowling (61) |
Charles Holliday (61) Ronald K Mohn (61) William Baldwin (62) Donna J. Fuchs (62) Carol Carlsen McDonald (62) Frank Hlavacek (62) Kathy Fardy (62) Ellis
Young (59) Look Who We Found Mary Lu (English) Howell (56)
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| Gail Lemmon Welch (54) glwelch2@juno.com 2080 Peach Orchard Road Sumter, SC 29154 (803) 499-4428 William English (57) Paul Middlebrook (57) Virginia (English) Taylor (58) Donald Crews (59) Penny (Bumgardner) Campbell (61) Kathleen A. (Kelly) O'Neill (61) John Brotbeck (62) Kenneth Sapp (62) |
Memories of Bushy
From Donald H. Crews (59) dhcrews@juno.com By way of introduction, my father was a Naval Officer stationed with CinCNELM in Grosvenor Square. I attended both 8th and 9th grades at Bushy Park. My family lived in Finchley, and my younger sisters have maintained correspondence, and have exchanged many visits with their neighborhood friends. I have not (I couldn't even hold up my end of a Pen Pal Correspondence). Later that same year we returned to the US. I was in the band (a trombonist), but not much else. I worked for a while as a 'bag boy' at the Commissary, across from the Embassy. (It was downstairs from street level so some guys worked for tips, carrying groceries up the stairs to cars or nearby homes). William English (57) Some of the people I remember are Candy Whalen, Jim and Jane Berryman, Jim Searles and good 'ol Farnie. My dad was Air Force stationed at West Drayton RAFB. We used to go to Ruislip to the exchange and commissary. I was a shoeshine boy in the barbershop at West Drayton. John Malin (59)
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Sunday afternoons with folks like Sean Carr and Jim
Nelson, then trucking back on Friday evenings. In '58 we rotated back to the "land of the big BX". I graduated the next spring from Merced High, near Castle AFB (missed the class trip to Rome - dangit), attended UC-Berkeley, then graduate school in chemistry at UC-Davis. It was there I met my wonderful wife, Nancy. We were both singing in a play, "HMS Pinafore". Our next stop was Stanford University where I researched for two years. Our first son, Mike was born nearby in Mountain View, CA. In '70 we moved to Sao Paulo, Brazil where I taught chemistry at the Univ. of Sao Paulo. Our son Joseph was born there in the downtown maternity hospital. He's still a mean soccer player. There followed a sojourn on the chemistry faculty at the University of Missouri-Columbia. But in 1979 my life took a different path, to Washington, DC where I began working for the National Science Foundation. That led to a career with American Chemical Society where I am currently Administrator of International Activities. My job has taken me to 35-odd countries (some odder than others). Occasionally I get to meet a good ol' boy or girl from Central High. It's always great. About five years ago, Nancy and I found ourselves in UK for a conference. We took the train to Teddington and hiked over to the old Bushy Park site. As you probably know, the wartime agreement with the Crown was that the property would have to be returned to a pristine park like state. That agreement was fulfilled, so now there is only a small memorial to the fact that it was a command site used by General Eisenhower. I searched in vain for a trace of the parade grounds, bomb shelters, headquarters, dorms and school buildings we all knew. Finally |
I picked up a small shard of roof tile - a last
souvenir. We drove into the Midlands to find what had become
of RAF Chelveston. It lies near an old Norman church bearing a memorial
inscription to the 8th Air Force crews based there in W.W.II.
The base itself is deserted except for the huge, ancient hangar, a few
microwave towers and of course the immense runway.
Feeling a bit like Dean Jagger in the final scene from "12
O'Clock High" I climbed over a barbed wire fence to savor the
landscape once more, then we departed. Nancy and I would love to hear from you at nmalin@erols.com. We always enjoy reading about other life trajectories in Bushy Tales. Anyone who wants to get together in the Arlington, Virginia area, let me know. Biloxi
Reunion From Renold Briggs (60) Hello all, Well the Biloxi Gathering is over and
what an outstanding time we all had. After a few hours, the time gone by
of 40 to 43 years seemed like yesterday. So many memories and old
stories everybody had to tell. We all have to thank Carol Condron
Coles for the time and effort she put into this Gathering. From all of
us thank you very much. I
would like to thank Tom Breithbarth and Bob Brookshier for the view
graph and slid show they shared with us. It was fun trying to identify
"just who is that" in the photos.
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One of the many highlights of the
weekend was the dinner on Friday night. Judy Risler Covington opened the
evening with an article she wrote about her memories and thoughts. I
think they reflect the way most of us feel and remember. We talked about the next Gathering. YES
there will be one. At this
writing the date and location is undecided, but we will keep you posted.
If you have any recommendation or suggestions please address them to me,
Jim Davis, Bill Percy, Doss Harsch, Judy Risler Covington, or Thank you to all who attended. And for
those who were not there, we talked about you and missed you. Hope you
can make the From Wendell (Oren) Jones (58) A wonderful and thoughtful note, Ren.
AS you said, we owe much gratitude to Carol for making it a
memorable weekend at a great place. Just one logistics example--my wife and I have traveled the
world over the years and have stayed in many nice places, but she just
kept raving about how much she liked the room at the hotel in Biloxi.
She even inquired as to how to buy the same drapes and bedspreads. Carol thought of everything and did a
first class project management job.
I was disappointed that not more of my
58 classmates attended, but still pleased to see my Sculthorpe bus and
dorm buddies from other year groups.
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Like
Ren says, we all hope to see more old friends at future gatherings. Judy Risler Covington (60) In the summer of 1958, my dad got
orders for England. I wasn't
enthused having played hell finally getting past the debilitating
"new kid/stranger in our midst" syndrome so prevalent in
civilian schools. But since
choice had never been an option, I waved a sad goodbye to Wichita Falls,
Texas, and was off to jolly olde. Something had been mentioned about
boarding school? I pictured stately, ivy-covered buildings, steeped in
regal tradition and somber elegance.
What I got was an unimpressive cluster of barracks and pre-World
War II structures, light years away from anything I'd had in mind. Little
did I know that the bright and shining memories waiting to be made within
those unpretentious walls would more than make up for the lackluster
appearance without. Or that decades later I would look back on the time spent
there as one of the most unforgettable experiences of my life. My name is Judy Risler Covington, Bushy
Park graduate of 1960. I am
delighted to welcome you to our 2002 Reunion. Our gracious hostess this weekend is
Carol Condron Coles, to whom I refer as a "double dipper"
because she not only attended Bushy Park, but Lakenheath too.
Carol asked me to be a sort of tour guide into the past for a few
minutes this evening, back to a time and a place that will never be again.
Except, of course, in our memories, where, depending on what or who you're
trying to remember, run the gauntlet from rich and vivid, to fuzzy and
dim.
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One of the first things that did
impress me about this boarding school was the sense of instant
acceptance. Here, there was
no "new kid/stranger in our midst" syndrome. Instead, being
new was a status symbol! You
had first hand, been there-done-that knowledge of what the latest fads
were in the land of the big BX; you had heard and danced to the latest,
greatest records, purchased clothes and other sundry items from
somewhere besides the Sears catalog and just yesterday had just cruised
up and down Main Street in a real car.
This heady experience lasted only until the next new person came
in hot off the plane, but that was okay.
Because you were immediately absorbed into the group, without
having to prove anything to anybody.
How wonderful that was! And then there was our social life.
Or lack thereof. The exquisite time of boys and girls together was limited, to
say the least. Opportunities
to make a pass, or encourage one, steal a kiss, or dance in the dark
were few and far between. Ultimately
the choice to mix and mingle other than during school hours, was between
going to the movies on Sunday evening or Wednesday night, or having a
dance once in a while when the powers that be determined our raging
hormones needed some kind of outlet.
We hopped and bopped and strolled and calypsoed with the best of
them, but it all came to a screeching halt at exactly 10:00pm. or 11:00
if it was a special occasion. We said our goodnights in the horrific
glare of a huge spotlight mounted on
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contact we enjoyed with the opposite
sex was after supper (we weren't allowed to dine together at the evening
meal, remember?) If you were a
lucky girl, you would leave the dining hall to find a guy waiting for you to
escort you back to the dorm perchance to steal a kiss along the way, but
facing major consequences if you got caught.
Not exactly the stuff dreams were made of.
Fog days rate right up there on the
memory scale. It has been revealed to me in, strictest confidence of course,
that within the confines of the boys' dorm, an altar honoring the fog god
Crud had been built and duly sanctified. Offerings were not unheard of to
ensure the thick pea-soup fog would indeed roll in over London, blanket the area
so that the buses ringing the town students to school could not run.
And since the dorm students weren't required to attend either.
Which didn't stop anyone with permission from So many memories come to
mind...stuffing a towel along the bottom of the door so the supervisors
wouldn't know you were still up after lights out. Standing out in the cold
at 2 am waiting for someone to confess to spreading peanut butter on the
toilet seat in the supervisor's latrine. The mythical
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The bomb shelters. The teen club where you went when you didn't use your lunch
tickets, to smoke cigarettes with the ration cards that were your
lifeline to the civilized world, dancing endlessly to a dated Wurlitzer
jukebox that still played 78's. There was no television to speak of, no
choice of movies, no-up-to-date music, no stylish clothes, no cars, no
drive-ins, no American Bandstand. In
the dormitories, however, there were roommates (up to five of them),
sign-in/sign-out sheets that were law, wary dorm supervisors and a
posted smoking permission list that meant
suspension if you were caught puffing and your name wasn't on it, and the
incessant clanging of bells that got you up, sent you to school told you
it was time to eat, study and go to bed.
And of course, town students could add their own list of
idiosyncrasies of life at Bushy Park. But neither did we have cliques, class
favorites, most popular titles or peer pressure. Transients all, we were
temporary inhabitants of the same space.
Our solidarity was real and deeply cherished; our friendships
immediate and strong. But
it all became history in a heartbeat, as quickly as we entered each
other's lives, we left it. In
a twinkling, your best friend, your roommate, your classroom buddy was
gone, or you were. It was inevitable, and certainly nothing new.
Time does move on, and so did we. Now, decades of constant changes,
personal challenges, widely diverse fortunes and plain old geography had
stifled our ability and unfortunately, our inclination to reconnect,
once we left Bushy Park for the last time, considering the odds of time
and distance and mitigating circumstances, it's |
And yet, here we are. In this place, at this time,
bound by ties, few of us
realized were even there, to renew bonds that have never really disappeared.
Some have gathered before, and will again.
Others will have completed the circle this weekend and find it
enough. All of us honor our
school and each Thank you all for being here.
And thank you for enriching my life beyond measure. (Editors Note: The article
below is a little long but when you read it you will understand there was no
way I could leave this out) From Mara Southern (60) The Reunion I had prepared for it like any
intelligent woman would. I went on a starvation diet the day before, knowing
that all the extra weight would just melt off in 24-hours, leaving me with
my sleek, trim, high-school-girl body. The last many years of careful
cellulite collection would just be gone with a snap of a finger. I knew if I
didn't eat a morsel on Friday, that I could probably fit into my senior
formal on Saturday. Trotting up to the attic, I pulled the
gown out of the garment bag, carried it lovingly downstairs, ran my hand
over the fabric, and |
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hung it on the door. I stripped naked,
looked in the mirror, sighed, and thought, "Well, okay, maybe if I
shift it all to the back... "bodies never have pockets where you
need them. Bravely, I took the gown off the hanger, unzipped the
shimmering dress and stepped gingerly into it. I struggled, twisted,
turned, and pulled and I got the formal all the way up to my knees...
before the zipper gave out. I
was disappointed. I wanted to wear that dress with those silver platform
sandals again and dance the night away. Okay, one set back was not going to
spoil my mood for this affair. No way! Rolling the dress into a ball and
tossing it into the corner, I turned to Plan B.
The black velvet caftan. I gathered up all the goodies that I
had purchased at the drug store; the scented shower gel; the
bodybuilding, and highlighting shampoo & conditioner, and the
split-end killer and shine enhancer. Soon my hair would look like that
girl's in the Pantene ads. Then the makeup – the under eye "ain't
no lines here" firming cream, the all-day face-lifting
gravity-fighting moisturizer with wrinkle filler spackle; the all day
"kiss me till my lips bleed, and see if this gloss will come
off" lipstick, the bronzing face powder for that special glow...
But first, the roll-on facial hair remover. I could feel the wrinkles
shuddering in fear. OK - time to get ready...I jumped into
the steaming shower, soaped, lathered, rinsed, shaved, tweezed, buffed,
scrubbed, and scoured my body to a tingling pink. I plastered my freshly
scrubbed face with the anti-wrinkle, gravity fighting,
"your face will look like a baby's butt" face cream. I set my
hair on the hot rollers. I felt wonderful. Ready to take on the world,
or, in this instance, my underwear.
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With the towel firmly wrapped around my
glistening body, I pulled out the black lace, tummy-tucking,
cellulite-pushing, ham hock-rounding girdle, and the matching
"lifting those bosoms like they're filled with helium" bra.
I greased my body with the scented body lotion and began the
plunge. I pulled, stretched, tugged, hiked, folded, tucked, twisted,
shimmied, hopped, pushed, wiggled, snapped, shook, caterpillar crawled,
and kicked. Sweat poured off my forehead but I was done. And it didn't
look bad. So I rested. A well
deserved rest, too. The girdle was on my body. Bounce a quarter off my
behind? It was tighter than a trampoline. Can you say, "Rubber baby
buggy bumper butt?" Okay, so I had to take baby steps, and walk
sideways, and I couldn't move from my butt cheeks to my knees. But I was
firm! Oh no...I had to go to the bathroom.
And there wasn't a snap crotch. From
now on, undies gotta have a snap crotch. I was ready to rip it open and
re-stitch the crotch with Velcro, but the pain factor from past
experiments was still fresh in my mind. I quickly side stepped to the
bathroom. An hour later, I had answered nature's
call and repeated the struggle into the girdle. I was ready for the bra. I
remembered what the saleslady said to do. I could see her glossed lips
mouthing, "Do not fasten the bra in the front, and twist it around.
Put the bra on the way it should be worn ---straps over the shoulders.
Then bend over and gently place both breasts inside the cups."
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times, tried to dribble them in with
short bunny hops, but that didn't work.
So, while bent over, I began rocking gently back and forth on my
heel and toes and I set 'em to swinging. Finally, on the fourth swing,
pause, and lift, I captured the gliding glands. Quickly fastening the
back of the bra, I stood up for examination. Back straight, slightly
arched, I turned and faced the mirror, turning front, and then sideways.
I smiled. Yes, Houston, we have lift up! My breasts were high, firm and
there was cleavage! I was happy until I tried to look down. I had a chin
rest. And I couldn't see my feet. I still had to put on my pantyhose,
and shoes. Oh... why did I buy heels with buckles? Then I had to pee
again. I put on my sweats, fixed myself a
drink, ordered pizza, and skipped the reunion. Mini Reunions
Pat Terpening Owen (58) nemoamasa@worldnet.att.net Pat Terpening Owen and her husband John, visited
with Fr. Aaron (Sheldon) Peters (57) on March 18, in Paola, Kansas.
They had lunch at the Convent and Pete took them on a tour of
building, which is quite old and lovely.
They also purchased some of his "Vinegar's of the Monk(th)"
which he bottles and sells through the Abbey.
Pete and Pat both wore their Class T-shirts, which Dave and Viv
Mangold made. Good News We Would Like To From Betsy (Neff) Cote (54) After my husband went to the doctor on Friday and was told he was doing good
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but may have to have chemo if his blood test shows
anything on this coming Mon. he decided that we need to go to Spain and
see our son before something else comes up, so we are leaving on April 1st
and will be back the early part of May.
Our plane goes from Dulles in D.C. to Heathrow and then Lisbon,
Portugal where we hope to get a car and go to Rota, Spain.
Since we will be in London airport for hopefully a couple of hours
I will check out the prices. Our
son has a house so we will not be staying in hotels while in Spain. Will
let you know how we make out.
Classmates
Who Have Transferred To The Eternal Duty Station Our love and prayers go out to
the family and friends of our classmates who have gone on before us.
We will miss them, yet we can find comfort in knowing that one-day
we will all join them for the greatest of all reunions From Wally Costa (54) This is to notify the "Bushy Park Gang" that another of our number has gone west. Gail Fitzgerald Hibbeler passed away on the twenty third of March. Gail was suffering with Cancer but at this writing we are not sure of the cause. She was being treated with a promising new method that was being developed in Germany. After being diagnosed with the dreaded disease she went there for treatment. Indeed my wife and I just visited her last week and were encouraged by her good spirits and seemingly good physical condition. We even went out for Chinese one evening, and she really enjoyed herself. It was a shock when Gene called and said she had died less than a week since our visit with her. It had been over forty years since I had last seen her.
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Even after only a short visit, after such a long
time it was apparent that Gail was still a sweet and caring woman. She
was also a devoted and hard working mother. It was easy to see her
children and grandchildren were devoted to her as she was to them. As we
reminisced while looking over old year books and talking of the weekly
bus rides too and from school I remembered how happy we were, dumber
than day old rocks the lot of us, but filled with our hopes of the
future, our current loves, and all the other dreams of youth. Sadly now
all behind us. It only remains for us to be in touch with one
another, and to remember with fondness how we once were. My heartfelt thanks to you Gary, for the paper and
to all those that have contributed their efforts in keeping our little
group together. Without which I would have never had those last precious
moments with Gail. Mini Bios
From Virginia (English) Taylor (58) After my life as an Air Force brat, (14 years), we moved back to Beaumont, Texas where I was born. I then married and moved to California, then back to Houston, Texas, where we raised our children. I have 3 children 2 sons and a daughter. My husband died in 1976, and I remained in Houston until I remarried in 1989, moved to New Jersey, where my husband is from. He is an officer in the Merchant Marines. Then we moved to Alabama, and to Louisiana, where he now works at the Isle of Capri Casino, (a casino boat) he is a chief engineer, and the final move back to Vidor, Texas which is just outside Beaumont, Texas. I would say that moving around has always been a way of life.
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The longest I ever lived anywhere was in Houston. I
lived there for 28 years. I
am so glad to have made contact with someone that went to school at Bushy
Park. No matter how much time
has passed all the kids who went there seem to have fond memories of their
time there as I do. From Randy Mohn (61) I am a retired Army Medical Service Corps Officer,
and have lived in Orlando, FL since 1989.
I worked for a Healthcare Contractor providing services to the Navy
before they closed the base, and my wife and I owned two franchise territories for Jackson Hewitt Tax
Service before we got tired of that and sold out.
We like to travel, and have owned a motor home since 1996. Mary English Howell (56) I still have a blue apron I made in Home Economics at
Bushy. My homeroom teacher was Ethel Gross; English - F. Glen Bailey;
Geometry - J. Lundien; Spanish - Travis Poole and Home Ec - Lois Drane,
for the 10th grade, 1953-54. I was married in 1955 to Ernest Eugene Howell, and we
were divorced in 1982. I have four children - Karen, Betty, Susie and Paul
and 8 grandchildren and 4 great-grandchildren with another on the way. Do You Remember
And now for the picture on
pages 6 of the last Newsletter, so far I have received the following:
From: Randy N Crane (59)
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I really look forward to these every month. They
are wonderful! About the
picture that Tony sent in, my guess is (from left to right) they are
Donna and Al Forsman, a Senior in '58 (I'll look up her name at home),
Jane Milburn, and isn't that you, Tony, in the
Legionaries hat behind Jane? Can't
see enough of the other two, but Tony knows of course. Tony, isn't the
chaperone Fred Buhler's mother? Bill
English (57) I was in 8th grade in 1953 in Miss Oehlers class. Some of the people I remember are Candy Whalen, Jim & Jane Berryman, Jim Searles, and good 'ol Farnie. My dad was AF stationed at West Drayton RAFB. We used to go to Ruislip to the exchange and commissary. I was a shoeshine boy in the Barbershop at West Drayton, picture attached.
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This and That
Ken Robie (56) Won't it happen again at 21:12 on 12-21- 2112?
I am not sure if I will be here still to check but if I am I will
let you all know! Ken Sapp (62) As my parents were posted to Burtonwood AFB,
Warrington, Lancashire, I was a seven day/week dorm student in Hampton
Hall. Due to early
reassignment to Altus AFB, OK, I was only at Bushy Park from the fall of
1959 to Spring 1961. Had I
stayed, I would have graduated from Central High School in 1962; instead I
graduated from Altus High School (spending one's senior year at a strange
high school was an unwelcome disruption, to say the least). Thus I never got the 61-62 yearbook and unfortunately
the 60-61 yearbook I did have was lost in 1975 during the civil war in
Beirut. Without that aid,
over the years, most of the names of friends and other classmates at Bushy
Park have faded from my memory--but not their faces. From Ren Briggs (60)
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"US Flag" You will also note that the US
Flag has only 48 stars. When the patch was designed, there were only 48
states. If you are interested, I am asking $20 for each patch. You can
contact me at:
Rev. Aaron S. Peters, O.S.B. (57) Just a wee word about those T-shirts offered by
Dave and Vivian Mangold. I
got one and they are worth every penny.
They are really a professional job and Vivian is to be
complemented on her work. I
would presume the two of them came up with the design. Also I'm from the class of 57 not 55. though the class of 55 was/is favorite bunch of people.(Editors note – Sorry Aaron I just goofed) From Betsy (Neff) Cote (54) |
Hi, Group -- this e-mail will be short since I am
sending it to class reps to forward on to their classmates. Ms. Martha Gail Kelly, a former teacher and coach at Central,
sent me this website and e-mail address for the Overseas Brats
organization. I was shocked
to see that London Central was not included on the page - we've got to fix
that. We could/should help
this site be a lot more readable with all our famous alumni and teachers. Don't be shy, send them some info. Check it out and I'll have the February update coming your
was soon. From Celeste Plitouke Brodigan (57) Just returned from New York City. Went by Ground Zero and the immense devastation around the
area is still overwhelming. Reminded
me of being in Germany after WWII. I
had some great conversations with those who lived through it. Walking the streets of NYC during the St. Patrick's Day
festivities it was great to see how the city is recovering. From
the top of the Empire State Building I viewed the place of my birth.
Seeing the Empire State Building in red, white and blue lights from
Lincoln Harbor that evening made me happy to be an American!
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the stories, emails and images growing out of these attacks,
organizing and annotating the most important web-based resources on the
events, and developing materials to contextualize and teach about the
subject. Comments From You Our Readers From John Hoberg (61) Thanks. Lots
of fun. Regarding Sally Goldenberg's question on the last page - is it
Pam Myers? Looks like her
in my "Vapor Trails." This
is fun. I've not really
thought about this for 40 years (except for the reunion in '88) but I'm
enjoying it immensely. From Diane (Drude) Clayton (62) Dear Gary, please let's keep the Newsletter going. It's great and I really can't think of any improvements. Maybe, at the Biloxi Reunion, we can talk about it as a whole group, and come up with some other ideas. But, I sure look forward to getting it and reading it. Thanks for all the work you do on it. From Carol Naldrett Carpenter (58)
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Thanks so much!
I enjoyed it all! I
can hardly believe all the work this must take!
I am married (John), have three children, 4 grandchildren, and am
living on Seabrook Island just south of Charleston SC. What a terrific
trip down memory lane! Candy Jeffers Lovegrove (61) Thanks so much for the monthly newsletter.
I often have never heard of the people who write but sometimes they
say something which brings memories flooding back.
I think my sister, Judy Jeffers, would have graduated in 1963 if we
had stayed on but we went to an English school.
She will be remembered by quite a few people - she was the girl who
instigated the de-bagging of our bus driver on his last day!!
She sadly died in 1990 at the age of 45 and if anyone remembers her
I'd be glad to communicate with them.
Keep up the good work! Regards
to all. From Craig Barnes (54) CBarnes355@aol.com Thanks for sending me the Bushy Park newsletter. Some people have really worked hard on it! I would enjoy receiving it, so sign me up. I barely qualify. I was in London in 1951-52 and helped open up Bushy Park, fell in love, and then left town quick. Not sure what was cause and what effect. Now I write books, plays, political commentary, do international mediation. Probably was a whole lot safer to fall in love. Take care, and thanks for thinking of me
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Don’t’ forget to check the Guest Book on the Bushy
Park web site at:
http://www.bushypark.org/
