Five years ago, as St. Thomas announced its Opening Doors campaign, I reflected in a column about how my dad became the first person in his family to attend college. He had the misfortune of enrolling at St. Thomas in 1929, the first year of the Great Depression, and he could scrape together enough funds to stay for only two years.
Jacquelynne Sutton is serving a 10-year prison sentence, thousands of miles from her family. She believes she deserves a second chance.
So do Nancy Ly and Vicky Wanta from the new St. Thomas Commutations Clinic.
John Rheinberger ’70, ’90 M.B.A., has traveled to every country in the world and has a story to tell about each one.
Rheinberger was strolling through the main square in Dakar, the capital of the western African nation of Senegal, when he asked a passerby to take his photograph. Having traveled alone to dozens of countries, this was something he had grown accustomed to, and usually he found people to be accommodating. But this time, the passerby refused, which put Rheinberger on alert: something was amiss.
Gael Fashingbauer Cooper ’89 and Brian Bellmont ’90 chronicle the lost toys, tastes & trends of the ’70s and ’80s in their book Whatever Happened to Pudding Pops? Among their recollections is the Generation X dog hero, Benji.
Carl Baumgaertner ’48 was the photo editor of the Kaydet, the St. Thomas Military Academy yearbook. He snapped the first aerial photo of campus on Dec. 6, 1941, from a J-3 Piper Cub piloted by George Kell, a fellow student who ran the Kaydet’s darkroom. St. Thomas has grown and changed since that photo was taken, and those changes have been documented from the sky above campus.
Bruce Kramer always had been in excellent physical condition, and he was proud of it. In the summer of 2010, he noticed he had a “floppy” left foot and thought it might be a pinched nerve or sciatica. During his regular physical examination, he mentioned he was “walking a little funny” and the doctor suggested he should see a neurologist. He procrastinated until he took a couple of falls in October, when his left leg collapsed.
When Randy Thysse ’85 was growing up in the Minneapolis working-class suburb of Brooklyn Center, it was suggested that he learn a trade, like neighbors who were plumbers or glaziers, or maybe he could follow in his dad’s footsteps and learn carpet laying.
The trade he settled into, and which he never once considered while growing up, is sometimes called spycraft.