John Gage ’60 lives with his wife Amy in Mill Valley, California, and on Neahkhanie Mountain, Oregon TASIS made a wonderfully transformative impact on my education and my youth. I was a student during the first year of TASIS in 1956-1957. The School’s contribution to my development was very personal, as would be the case for any subsequent student, but our small group of 12 were keenly aware that we had embarked on a new experiment, and fortunately we were focused on thriving rather than suffering through the inevitable growing pains of a new institution.
My memory is that there was a significant change in the faculty during the Christmas break, and numerous components of the program experienced abrupt alterations, but we had terrific esprit and looked on all changes as being part of a grand experience forging fond memories of resilience and adventure. In addition to the most demanding academic curriculum of my education, we skied in Andermatt and traveled to Spain as a large family for Christmas and to Greece for Easter. The cultural riches of Europe were breathtaking for a kid from a small town in Michigan, and Mrs. Fleming became both a mentor and something like a second mother to me. My relationship with TASIS and the Fleming family has now endured and increased in richness over 60 years – nearly a lifetime.
Jill Newman Iversen (Frog Hollow; Swiss Holiday ’57, ’58) has spent most of her working life in publishing. Her greatest pride and joy is her son. When I think back on my childhood, it’s hard not to think of TASIS because my association with the Flemings began at the age of five, so the school and my formative years will always be inextricably entwined. I also have a memory for things big and small, which means that I can remember the name of every single counselor I ever had, and just about every single kid I came in contact with at Frog Hollow Farm.
regattas—all dressed in crepe paper costumes with Sousa blaring in the background—but they were never as much fun as lying on our stomachs and sunning ourselves on the concrete edges that lined the water. I remember poor old Robin Waxwheeler who got poison ivy on his private parts, which, by the time he was discharged from the infirmary and the story had been disseminated from the boys’ cabins to the girls’ Playhouse, weren’t so private after all. I remember Milton Berle’s daughter was in my “cabin,” the Cottage, and he amused us by balancing a ball on his finger, and we were admittedly callow youths and had no idea we were in the presence of Mr. Television. If class, quality, care, loving, and sheer all-around wonderfulness have any say—or should I say, play in the matter—I suspect that TASIS will be celebrating many, many more landmark anniversaries in the years to come.
I remember the song, “Twenty froggies went to school, down beside the swimming pool,” and I remember that very same swimming pool where we had our annual
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