This is a new feature of the EA Homepage.  We would like to receive letters from all of you who have saudades do Rio, Brazil, and your days at the Escola Americana.  Here we hope to publish letters about what you remember and miss most about your EA days.  We take it upon ourselves to record the "historical" events of the Escola Americana  and to preserve them for future generations (sounds ambitious).

Please make sure you return to send those historically important and not so important events!   You can leave a record of your saudades here.   You may also leave them on the book below.  

View EA Saudade Book! | Sign EA Saudade Book!  (Note: this link takes you to yet another place on the EA Alumni site.  So before following the links, please read letters below.)

Letter from Walt Perkins:

I remember the bondes as being the cheapest ride in town.  Bondes were very useful tools as well.  They were the best place to crush the glass to bond to kite string (with liquid glue) for cutting other kites out of the air.   The neighborhood kids would block off the street to string out the cord between lamp posts to dry.  Pissed off the people wanting to use the street to actually drive on...imagine that!

Bondes were also good for flattening pennies (US).  That made a distinctive sound- when the wheels rolled over the coin!  Flattening the aluminum and brass brasilian coins just weren't the same.

Riding a bonde required 'style'- the coolest way to get on and off was when the thing was still moving of course!  If you were a good judge of speed that was not dangerous but if you didn't get it just right when leaving off you could end up running for your life to keep from planting your face- not cool.  The really best technique, and the hardest to master was to get off facing backwards and let your feet slide to a stop!  Had to watch out for wet cobblestones if you were wearing leather sole shoes- slippery traction! And, you never sat down on a bonde - always stood outside and held on to the rail if the conductor would let you.

Bondes were always good for periodic traffic accidents when some yahoo in a hurry would try to cut one off.  Funny how bondes never moved out of the way for those nuts!   Those traffic jams (real or imagined) were good excuses for being late.

I think the traditional Carioca pace was disrupted when they got rid of the bondes.   Everything else moved too fast or to a schedule!  Not good in Rio.

Letter from Debbie Hardy (Binha) '84:

E como mágica que depois de 15 anos estando fora do Brasil, volto para a cidade mais linda no meu coração e o lugar mais especial do mundo: EA.  I remember walking through the front gates, last month and seeing all my classmates arrive ready to go to class . . . as if nothing had changed.   I walked by the concession and thought back to Cabral, and all his goodies.   As I neared the wall by the gym and the class buildings, I laughed because I remembered how awesome it was to just sit there with my friends and talk . . . Monica, Annette, Flavia, Ana Luisa, Claudia, Manami, Debbie, e muitos outros.

When I came back to the US . . . I found an emptiness.  How could I ever connect back to the Class of '84. Like our motto: Big Brother is Watching, I also watched and began finding friends . . .soon, I connected with many of my classmates, who are living around the world.  It was so nice to hear from them and to find out that nothing has changed between us.  We picked up where we left off, many years ago.

EA had a magical feeling to it.  It was home, love, friends, companionship and many other things.  I boast about how we all left there with a different perception in life.  Talvez tambem seja o Rio, o Brasil e a magica desse pais tao guardado no meu coracao.  Throughout these years, I missed the connection with the one place who understood all of us while growing up and that holds so many wonderful memories.

Muitos beijos e abraços para o pessoal. . . sempre estarão no meu coracao.

Binha, BINHA384@aol.com

Letter from Judy Sybert:

I attended EA from 7th grade until graduation in '79.  EA will always hold a special place in my life, but my senior year was sure a blast.  Mrs. Stanton was, of course, so very very special.  I remember being involved in the play South Pacific.  I was in charge of Costumes.  I was a lowly in the rank of things, but she still made me feel special.  There were also so many others.  I remember Ms. Pinho, my Portuguese teacher.  She was so proud of me when I finally studied and got an A!  And Cabral and his crew!  What a crew it was!  Dr. Brown, all I can say is thanks to him.   He helped my brother when we needed help.  My brother began to have serious problems in school and was since diagnosed with Bi-polar disease.  Dr. Brown was not only an excellent headmaster, but a great person.

I was a lousy student; barely got by!  But I can tell you all one thing, EA was a family.  I might have gotten lousy grades, but everyone helped mold me into who I am today.  The values instilled in me have helped me through life's bumps, and I have had my fair share.

Ah-h-h...The memory of the Class of '79's beach party . . . . Anybody else remember that? Afterwards, Dr. Beecher, the principal, made an announcement that if ANYONE from the next graduating class attempted to skip school and have another beach party, there would be serious repercussions!

And of course, graduation night.  It rained cats and dogs . . .but we still managed to have fun!

Thanks for giving us the opportunity for our saudades, Bruce.
Judy Sybert, May 20, 1998  NotesbyJS@aol.com

Letter from David Martin '69
A Rio Story
Good Bye Olga and Rio

Since 1969 I've wondered whatever happened to Olga Peters.  It seems hers was the last face of a classmate at the Escola Americana I saw before leaving Rio.  My last night in Rio turned into quite an adventure.  Seems we all ended up at that bar we hung out at down near Arpoador Beach for a good bye party.  I was 16 and believed I was cool drinking Tom Collins.  With the hour getting late and Saco 69's, the "tchaus," "keep in touch," and "good lucks" about over, I went to get on the #210 bus to Leblon to head home, Jonathan Van Speir had to give me one last good buy hug.  Well the bus driver didn't have time for that, the money taker at the back laughed out "o viados" and they took off.

I had too many Tom Collins in me at that time and stumbled around from the street side of the bar toward the beach so I could run home along the beach at the water's edge.  Something I did everyday back then in training for track.  Though not always at that late dark hour with a stumble in my step.  It would be faster to just run on home rather than wait for the next bus.  It would be no problem that night.  I crossed the road stepping around the flickering Macumba candles and offerings along the curbs of the street toward the beach.  I was across the black and white marble mosaic sidewalk and down the short jump of the seawall and on to the sand.  It felt good to get my loafers off and feel the cool sand around my feet again.  One more run home before catching that plane stateside in the rapidly approaching day. It was not unusual for me to run before daybreak and watch the sun come up over the water at the rocks at Arpoador.  That is a part of the beauty of Rio that stays fresh in my memory. 

A restless adolescent night would have me up in the early dark of morning. I would watch the slow graying of the night from the beach before it spread over the bluing of the night into morning on the horizon.   It is the reminder of the flood of feelings of adolescence to be resolved.  The joy and wonder of the solitude of the morning in the glowing rush of color, with a lonely longing to share this beauty with someone.  The orange sparkle and reflection of the sun at water's edge.  The sheer joy of running through the lapping waves feeling the soft warm water bubbling around my feet in the quiet morning.  The steady rhythm of the rising passing waves at water's edge and my feet gently slapping the wet sand.   The day and I advanced as the rocks at the point between Ipanema and Copacabana drew near.   I would watch the sun rise sitting on the rocks at the end of the point.  The sun would crack the horizon and the cool night breeze rising rounding red, to orange to hot white over the deep blue water.  A giant manta would break out of the waves splashing down in the morning white glow. The city beginning to stir behind me in the advancing dawn.

This would be my last night in Rio and I could run home along the beach and watch the sunrise in Leblon before heading home.   Before I made it to the water's edge, three dark shapes appeared around me.  I recall something in my back, my grandfather's watch slipping from my wrist, and my near empty wallet with twenty cents worth of busfare and my track medal in it jerked from my pocket.  The thugs had followed me down to the beach and had decided to liberate my possessions from me.  Had they also spotted my class of '69 ring with the single red stone?  My fist was clenched tight trying to hide it.  One of them grabbed my hand as he attempted to open my fingers, the question was spoken.  Do you want to die, sabe, and another jab in the back opened my hand.  The ring was gone.

I was now down on the sand.  Then came a kick toward the stomach.  Well, in my young pride I showed them.  I was tough and strong from the daily routine of miles of running, and countless sit-ups and calisthenics, I just tightened up my abs and no harm done.  They were gone.    If I hadn't been so stupid drunk, I could have easily run off into the night and they would have never gotten close.   I ran on back toward Leblon barefoot in the dark at the water's edge.  The adrenaline was pumping, frustrated and angry at the whole situation with a thousand what ifs, playing the scene over and over different ways in my mind.  I ended up in the small square in front of her door at about some late hour in the A.M.  Karate kicking a tree, "that's what I should have done to them," and hurting my foot.  I needed to vent my frustration and anger.  I needed a friendly face.

She was a good friend, and we shared the prom and some walks and a kiss at the Jardim Botanico back then.   How to do this?   My last night in Rio can't end like this.  I couldn't be knocking on the door this late?   I picked up a large leaf and began to write a note on it.   Someone had noticed me and dad was at the doorway puzzled with this kid and not impressed.  No I didn't know what time it was, they stole my watch.  The details of our conversation are vague from there and I don't remember what we said to each other.   The sun rose on Leblon beach without me.  I walked home with the predawn light on the streets to explain the night to my parents.  A long flight stateside later that day and a new adventure from there.  Haven't heard from her since.  I still have the leaf.  The words stop after "a leaf would you believe.  If....." It is pressed in my yearbook and brown with thirty years.  Good bye Olga, Ate logo Rio.

Letter from Anonymous: A Typical Escola Americana Love Story...

Once upon a time a boy met a girl on Copacabana beach.  The day was nondescript- slightly overcast and not particularly warm- but the moment He first saw Her was magical and a ray of sunshine illuminated Her in His eyes.  It was obviously and truly 'love at first sight'- the kind of half puppy love and half hormonal excitement only a beautiful 14 year-old girl can generate in a 14 year-old boy.  After long minutes of observation and awkward introductions they discovered they had things in common.  Like younger siblings, their common citizenship, their love of the beach, and that they were to be EA class-mates.

They became buddies. They shared classes, friends, school activities, and a high school social life.  Try as He might, though, He could never convince Her to accept a date.  While they were often together there was a barrier between them He wished desperately to tear down and She worked hard to preserve.  In fact, they talked about it but nothing changed for several years (yes, years!) as they both moved though puberty and into adolescence.  She kept to her circle of girl friends and He developed hobby interests and a reputation as a practical joker.   They were typically well adjusted teenagers.   She had crushes on other boys they talked about and He had dates they talked about but the desire for a closer relationship was one-sided.  They stayed buddies. 

One day, as in most fairy tales, the end of their friendship was in sight.  His family was returning home in a few months (at the end of the school year) and they both realized this would alter their lives forever.   In his relentless way, He asked Her for yet another date (the millionth time).  He remembers Her cautious acceptance and His mixed feelings: on the one hand, He was overjoyed at Her change of heart but, on the other hand, He didn't want sympathy.  What they did or where they went on that first date is lost in history but He remembers that night led to the next... and the next... and the next...as often happens with people in such circumstances.  They fell in love.  They were inseparable.  They learned things they never knew.  He learned She had rebuffed his advances for fear of rejection.  She learned to trust.  He learned responsibility.  They both learned how to care for someone respectfully.  For three or four months they enjoyed each other's company all over the enchanted city- they saw every movie, ate in neat restaurants, roamed the city, and walked on the beaches.  They held hands in school, they went to the Prom, they stayed out late.  They looked deeply into each other's soul.  Their friends were amazed at their transformation.  He became responsible and shed his 'prankster' image; She became more outgoing and engaging.  He willing spent all the money he got from selling off his hobby assets on their adventure.  They blossomed as people.  When school ended they stayed out very late every night.  Their life was magic.   But it could not last forever.  

The scene at Galeão airport their last morning together was sad and touching.  Everyone knew life was ending a perfect dream and two children were separating as adults.  They wrote letters and kept in touch for a while but the distance between them was too great.  They went to colleges a continent apart.  Occasionally He heard bits and pieces about Her from conversation with mutual friends.  Then He didn't hear about Her any more.  He grew into a father with a wonderful wife and great kids.  He spends his days preparing his children for their own lives.   He has told them about Her and hopes they can one day have their own magical experience.

Letter from Stefan Sittig:

Wow! How can I start?  I was just bent over laughing at Debbie Ramos (Winkler)'s letter . . . since we were both Class of '90, a lot of the memories are similar. I remember too the nights at PAPILLON and CANECO 70 and the "zona" with Luis Felipe Marques (class clown) and Ricardo Guerra (class abusador...) during Collares' and Rabelo's classes.  I also remember with fondness Mrs. Flame, who taught me how to write; Mrs. Guimaraes, who is a legend and one of the sweetest, most caring teachers I ever met; Mrs. Souzinha, who taught me that Science could be fun (I was scared to death of science and math . . . still am really); Mrs. Storino, who taught me discipline and hard work; Mrs. Sa, who was a friend as well as a teacher, and many, many many more. It would take pages and pages . . . what a faculty!  Having been a student at EA from 1st grade all the way to my senior year, EA felt like a home to me, not a school.  Since my father was the high school guidance counselor, I also became friends with many of the faculty and staff.  I remember waiting in line at Cabral, staying at school until late for the musical rehearsals with Mrs. Chipe, the always original teaching methods of McFarland and Collares (time que nao faz convencao nao ganha o jogo!).  I also remember the many wonderful nights of parties and encontros with all my wonderful friends . . . especially Malena Comesana, Debbie Ramos, Kim Bobb, Dara Neeley, Luciana Duarte, Gunnar Lofgren, Adriana Nogueira and just the overall spirit of the school.  Sure, there were some hard times too, becoming an adolescent, with all those hormones raging and the acne and the awkwardness, being assaltado in Rio several times (eu tinha cara de gringo rico), and being called to Dr. Brown's office because I threw a student's backpack out the window of the school bus (it was not moving).  And then one of the worst days, I'll never forget this, was the day I learned Mrs. Stanton died.  I was sitting in my 7th grade algebra class (Mrs. Damm was substituting. . . wasn't she always?) and she told us what happened.  This was 1985 I believe, and I was 13.  Mrs. Stanton changed my life forever, and she didn't even know it.  This is how.  In 1983 the high school was doing L'Il ABNER and Mrs. Stanton needed some kids from lower school to play the kids in the show.  Well, somehow I got chosen (together with Yara Royster - who was already a veteran having been in PLAIN & FANCY a couple of years earlier).  It changed my life forever.  I had never been in a musical before, and this was my first chance!  From that first night of L'IL ABNER (and through that horrible storm that stopped the performance at intermission . . . remember galera, of '83, '84, '85 and '86?) I was never the same. That moment, as an 11 year old child, I decided what I would do with the rest of my life . . . theatre.  Well, those were some interesting years, and I lived through 4 years of high school doing all the musicals, plays, etc., everything theatrical I could get my hands on. I still have the tapes from all the productions.    [Webmaster - we'd love to get copies of those tapes for the website]

Then I went on to UVA and did theatre there, shocked that I was not the favorite and wasn't getting all the leads).  Then on to graduate school to get my Masters in Fine Arts-Theatre.  And today, in 1997 at the age of 25, after thousands of rehearsals, performances, auditions, I am still an actor, still performing, albeit professionally. (It's nice to get paid!)  And to think it all started that fated day in 1983 when I walked into Ruth Stanton's office.   Ah, saudades...Stefan Sittig

Letter from Michele Mancini:

Oi, gente, Eu ainda não acredito!  Depois de tantos anos eu achei um sito todo dedicado à Escola Americana do Rio de Janeiro!  Eu estudei na EARJ de 1975 atè 1979.  Eu sou Italiano, e voltei em 1981 pra Italia, mas um pedacinho do meu coração ficou là no Rio. Quando penso naqueles anos que passei na EA, eu realmente sinto o que os Brasileiros querem dizer com "saudade!"  Desde o 1981 eu nunca mais voltei pro Brasil, pois a Italia não està "pertinho."  Poder ter notìcias da EA me faz sentir muito menos distante.  I was in third grade in 1975, and when I left, in January 1979, I had started the seventh grade.  Some of my schoolmates were: Andrew Brinn, Charlie Shick, Andrew Moreno, Arnaldo Fragni (he was Italian too), Greg Wadsworth, Marco Antonio Carneiro, Flavio Fefferman, Armando Dias, Luciana Braga Horne, Ana Paula Pessoa, Flavia Massari, Manami Osada and Paulo Lobo.   If some of you remember these names and if you know where they are now, please let me know.  Um abraço de quem està muito longe mais ao mesmo tempo muito perto de vocês.  Michele Mancini <mi.mancini@agora.stm.it>

Letter from Mary Ann Harvey ('80):

Now I am a person who can really say...Tô morrendo de saudades... EA was the best school anyone could go to... I used to be the first person to arrive in the morning on my senior year although I had first period free.  I loved hanging out in the AAA and just talking to all the great people who were in my class... Diana, Rosane, Tinka, Panos, Claudio, Cicero, Amy and so many others.  I was also the last person to leave school as I always had some kind of practice, volleyball, softball, handball, and what have you... Ingi, Christina Pons and even Dr. Brown were my great coaches!  I loved all my teachers and remember some of them fondly... Collares, Tori, Mr. Needham, Ingi, Mr. Joslin (in the 7th or eight grade), Ms. Silva. I could go on forever...

Our senior trip was a special time in our lives.  I am sure everyone in the class of 1980 remembers the great times we had in Campos do Jordão!  I couldn't leave out Cabral... he was really special and my brothers remember... um sonho e uma fanta uva... for brunch... I could have died when they said... and the class queen is... Mary Ann Harvey... I thought I wouldn't be able to survive leaving that wonderful place but here I am a happy alumnus with a happy family, a great family!  EA has contributed to my life in a beautiful way!  Thank you for creating such a beautiful homepage!  My siblings: Monica ('84), Mark ('85), Tony('88) and Michael ('82) feel the same way. maganet@ibm.net

Letter from Maria Cristina Herrera Arnold ('75):

Eu tenho saudades do Rio.  I miss o jeitinho brasileiro, speaking portugese, hanging out at the wall, and those carefree days of the past.  I miss shopping at the papelaria across the street from the old school and the smell and feel of the new erasers.   I miss window shopping up and down Copacabana Ave.  I miss my portuguese teachers, Miss Collares (loved her bobbey socks), Miss Pinho called me Maricota, and Miss Pinto for her wonderful attitude towards life.  I miss the constant workouts of climbing stairs and walking up and down the hill to get to school.  I miss going to school in a minature version of the United Nations.  But most of all , I miss the magic that engulf each and every one of us for having had the oppurtunity to go to school in such an enchanted place called, RIO.  Maria Cristina Herrera Arnold ('75) <sarnold@earthling.net> http://www.rain.org/~sarnold

Letter from Walt Perkins ('63):

A Balloon Story
Although Carnival was always full of adventures, I also looked forward to the Sao Joao holiday with equal anticipation.  In June, when the air is colder (relatively), you could successfully launch paper hot air balloons.  Street vendors sold small tissue models about 18 inches in diameter with wax-soaked cotton wicks.   It was always a challenge to light the wick without torching the entire balloon first!  On any given night you could see several floating through the air.  There were also more creative minds in Rio and you could spot some very interesting creations floating along.  If you got lucky, and were close when they ran out of wick and landed, they could be retrieved, re-wicked, and re-launched.  Usually, though, they were torn to pieces by roving bands of favela kids who were looking to make a profit by selling them (to whom we never knew- and they must not have made much because I never saw one survive the contest for possession).  Probably the same kids who chased loose kites off the beaches- but that's another story.

Anyway, someone learned how to make paper balloons from tissue and we did a few from colored tissue (the commercial version was always white).  After a couple of small ones we tried one about a meter in diameter- simple, just add more panels.  Then we got real ambitious and decided to make a giant model (the mother of all balloons we thought).  We pooled our money and bought a ton of tissue paper and glue, went to Pedro Haegler's house (because it had enough free space to lay everything out and a second floor balcony to allow inside final assembly- out of the wind), and went to work. I can't remember who was in on this project but the balloon seemed to go together pretty fast and before long someone was holding its top on the balcony while the wick assembly was added at the bottom.  The whole thing was, of course, big (really big!) and beautiful.   We used Pedro's Mom's vacuum cleaner to do a test inflation but there was some kind of problem launching it from there (maybe power line or trees??) so we packed everything up and took it over to EA to launch it from the basketball court...or some other local basketball court.  My memory gets hazy here because I know we did get it to go up a little but I don't recall it as a total success.  Either the wick was too heavy or we had used too much glue to assemble the paper.  In any case, it did fly but not for long or very high!  Like many things in life, the act of building the balloon was more fun and exciting than the final event of flying it! 

But that's not the only Sao João balloon story... The climax of the Sao João holiday was the monster fireworks display over the Lagoa and off Corcovado (they still do that don't they?).  It was never actually timed but it seemed like just the biggest and best display I had ever seen in my short life!  One year I was invited to watch the display from someone's boat on the Lagôa.  I don't remember who it belonged to but Artie Byrnes was there.  We went out early in the afternoon to run down descending balloons.  The trick was to catch them before they hit the water.  It sounds easy but as I recall the timing was tricky and the boat didn't move all that quickly on the water.  I think we got one successfully and saw other people doing the same thing.  At least we didn't have to worry about water-born bands of kids and there was a protocol- whoever was closest to the balloon was given room by the others to try and land it.  That was a lot of fun and the fireworks were spectacular that night when viewed from the middle of the Lagoa. Walt_Perkins@ccmail.orl.lmco.com

Letter from Debbie Winkler ('90):

Ever since June of 1990, when I graduated from EA, I have missed it.  People were and still are amazed when I tell them that I hated missing school days when I had to stay home sick.  Of course I didn't miss the school lectures, but I definitedly missed seeing my friends, my teachers, enjoying a free period at the "Smoking Area" or at the AAA (triple A).  My closest friends were and some still are Lucille Cooper, Malena Comesana, Isabela Nunes, Carolina Montero & Pincetic, Vicky Morales, Monica do Valle, Leo Zraick, Parrera, Felipe Marques, Julio Fefferman, Jaime Estupinan, Andy Abernathy, Patrick Schwartz, and many more.

Every friday and saturday night we were surely to be found having a beer at Caneco 70, dancing at Zoom and Papillon or having a batida de coco at the "rampa".  The most entertaining teacher I had was Ms. Collares, specially when she would fight with Ricardo Guerra when he would come with the flag of his soccer team wrapped around his body and singing the song of the team.  The coolest teacher I had was Mr. McFarland although he once made me pay a visit to Mr. Klumpp because my mini skirt was too short.  I ended up having to wear the longest skirt the drama club had for the whole entire day.   Although by the end of the day I had rolled it up so it was as short as my mini skirt.  Aside from this incident, Mr. McFarland was very cool - he used to tell me stories of the 60's and how he attended Woodstock and saw Janis Joplin singing.

Another great teacher I won't forget is Mrs. Rabelo - she used to fight with Felipe Marques all the time - specially when he turned his top eyelid inside out and this grossed her out so much she used to yell at him while he made excuses saying that he had a disease in his eye.  How could you not enjoy a school like this???  It was a mixture of fun and play.  Now I am married, living in West Palm Beach, Florida working at Motorola thanks to the great education I got at EARJ.  Thanks to all of you who made my days at EA as wonderful as they were.  I miss you a lot!!!  Love, Debbie (Class of '90 will always rule!) e-mail address: Brasil1812@aol.com