Memories submitted by Peter Turnbull — 6th Class 45 An ex-Roseville student contacted me earlier this week regarding the forthcoming re-union. Amazingly the memories flooded back and I will highlight them, to the best of my memory, as follows: I enrolled at 4 years and 9 months at the kindergarten in and left the school in
Share via Email Melanie Gideon and her husband: You know, the kind with the rows of holes on either side that was once used for dot matrix printers? I bring the document into the kitchen.
I flash the ream of paper at my husband. Soon I am crying. The ream of paper is a time machine. My husband and I met while working at a company in Cambridge, Massachusetts, called Thinking Machines — manufacturer of the Connection Machine, one of the fastest parallel processing supercomputers in the world.
In fact, it was the third company ever to register a dotcom domain name.
We had email before virtually any corporate offices had email. In the late s, there were no mobile phones, few personal computers, certainly no Facebook or Twitter, and before my employment at Thinking Machines I communicated with colleagues the old-fashioned way: Sidewalks are covered with ice.
Lots of car accidents. Anyway, I was wondering. What do you think about a visit from yours truly Sunday evening? Would that be OK? I would really love to see you. A few months after my husband and I met at Thinking Machines he was on a summer internship, I was employed full-timehe left to go to Wesleyan University in Connecticut.
We were deeply, head-over-heels in love — Wesleyan was only two hours from Boston — we could make it work. Besides, we had a secret weapon. Rather then having to rely on a shared dorm phone in some abandoned hallway like all the other long-distance couples, we had email.
Between the hours of nine to five, we could communicate with each other almost instantly. We would make it through the school year no problem. Or so we thought. My emails tell a different story. I know you talked about needing space. But I really want to see you.
Tell me what you want. Tell me what you need. My husband stands at the stove, his back to me. My son sits on a stool, doing his maths.
Clearly, reading these emails, he was all I thought about. I was lovesick, in the way only a twentysomething can be. So does dinner at home appeal to you? I love you as much as I love pad thai. I was so young.
Trying so hard to act like an adult. But I knew this was the man I was meant to marry. The question was, did he? It meant a lot to me. I was not in the mood to take the bus. Also wanted to make sure everything was OK. You seemed weird when you left.As a follow-up to Tuesday’s post about the majority-minority public schools in Oslo, the following brief account reports the latest statistics on the cultural enrichment of schools in Austria.
Vienna is the most fully enriched location, and seems to be in roughly the same situation as Oslo. Many thanks to Hermes for the translation from timberdesignmag.com Read an Excerpt.
Who Do You Love ; Rachel. I was born with a broken heart. This was a line that got me a lot of sympathy from preschool through sixth grade, when I decided that a congenital heart condition was not what I wanted to be known for, and stopped talking about it at school.
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