My earliest memory of St. Mary's is being engulfed in browm wool and starched white linen in a warm embrace. I have felt embraced by St. Mary's all my life - first as a student and later as a teacher.

I attended St. Mary's from kindergarten through high school, graduating in 1948. As with every other student of that era, the old building with its imposing façade continues to live in our memories. The building was a treasure of so many special places, each evoking its own special remembrance: The classrooms bathed in air and light - the wide polished tile hallways - the forbidden "golden" staircase - the dark, eerie passageway between the old convent building and the newer school building - the convent - the pristine starched whiteness of the dormitory alcoves - the dark convolution of the furnace room and the stealthily explored attic.

Always music drama and art were integral in education at St. Mary's. There is a special warmth in the memory of the glass enclosed music practice rooms - one after the other filled with the music of voice and piano (and sometimes nonsense and giggles) - the sounds of a full band reverberating off the walls of the old gym at pratice everyday - the quiet concentration under the tutelage of Stister Maxine in the Art Room - the dark maroon velvet curtains of the Assembly Room where performance of chorus and band, music contest and drama, were held - and where all the school gathered on the yearly occasion of Monsignor McNamara's birthday for every student to receive a box of chocolate covered cherries.

More than the physical memory is the lifelong gift of the spirit of St. Mary's. I have especially happy memories of working on the musicals with Ruth McCarville and Nancy Grady every year. Among my mast cheristhed memories are the nights of rehearsal in the darkened gym with nearly a hundred students - working together (sometimes with nonsense and giggles), but everone responsible to do their share to accomplish something of which they all could be proud.