Our family moved from the sylvan and sunny enclave of Diablo, California to Europe in October of 1962. Our father had accepted a career elevating assignment as part of the leadership team to build a new company in Germany. He assured that it was to be a life-time opportunity for each of us. As a 14 year old, then starting high school, I was doubtful and distraught at leaving my playground of Northern California (hot rods, swim team, Boy Scouts and endless opportunities for mischief.)
We flew from San Francisco for a several day layover in New York, and then on Swiss Air (1st Class) to Zurich. After a recovery day in Zurich, my father rented a car and drove the family to Fribourg and my home to be for the next 4 academic years -- Villa St. Jean International School ("the Villa"). The Villa, founded in 1903, was a Catholic all-male boarding school run by the Marianist for the sons of French and other Europeon well to do families; it had been transitioned in the early 60's to an American college prepartory curriculum. (My sister Susan describes the experience as: "We flew to Europe. We 'deposited' Kevin at boarding school and the rest of the family moved to Frankfurt, Germany.")
I will forego my 'Catcher in The Rye/Separate Peace' coming of age misadventures at the Villa. I graduated in late May of 1966 with respectable academic achievement (National Merit Scholar Finalist), 2 years on the Ski Team, a Varisty Letter in Basketball, Vice President-Social of the Student Council, Co-Editor of the 1965 and 1966 Yearbooks, a lovely girlfriend and several enduring friendships.
After graduation, I returned to Switzerland within 2 weeks. My mother had issued a diktat to secure the return my Villa class ring from my girlfriend, Mary Frances ("Meff"). She would be soon graduating from Chateau Brillmont in Lausanne and returning to Mobile, AL. To comply with my mother's directive, I negotiate the use of her car and persuaded Canadain classmate Kim Horne to join me so we could explore La Haute Route after I completed my primary mission.
The recovery of my class ring went smoothly -- what else would you expect from a gratious Southern lady (I never wore that ring again, but my mother seemed please I had fulfilled her edict.) The expediton on La Haute Route was rough. After slogging up about 500 meters through mud and Sping snow in our ski boots, we reached a route middle section, strapped on our skis (without skins) and roped up for safety. An hour and half later, profusely perspiring in our anoraks, we agreed we were ill equiped to continue. We silently trudged back to our departure point, stopped downhill at a mountain bistro for a sandwich and a beer, and then drove back to Germany. I had no thoughts of ever returning to Switzerland.
I look forward to hearing of your experiences.
My time at the villa was the last marking period of 1965 7th grade and one year in Ormes 1966, 8th grade. It surprises me to this day how formative that one year experience was to be on my life and attitudes.
I visited the VSJ campus in 1992 when Gallia was undergoing renovations and was able to walk into my old classroom. It was remarkably the same! Unfortunately, not much else was there to trigger my memories.
Kevin Sullivan