This is an unbiased account of a true story. (Well, maybe a little biased.)

Brent is a Christian school with “regulations and structures that all students must follow to achieve harmony for the whole community” or as every Brentonian knows - Brent had rules (lots of rules). One of the cardinal rules was that boys and girls could only interact physically (i.e. hold hands) in a place called “Neutral”. Because the administration “understood the natural behavior of young people” this grassy hillside next to the canteen was probably selected because it could be easily monitored from the teacher’s lounge.

On a beautiful spring day, the kind that occurs only in the Cordillera Mountains of Baguio, Denise Caracol ‘70 and I lay on the grass of neutral with her head resting upon my arm. It was warm and sunny with a slight breeze scented by pine. We talked for a while; then closed our eyes and drifted in that special place reserved for day dreaming and high school sweethearts. Denise and I were boarding students and in love and stole every opportunity to be together. The restlessness and passion of youth was coursing in our veins. This was our senior year, our futures were uncertain, the war in Vietnam was not far away and we knew that very soon our paths would part.

We wrapped our arms around each other and embraced, and then suddenly a cold shadow passed over us. As I slowly opened my eyes to stare into the angry hawk like face of our very proper English teacher backlit by the sun, I knew, there was trouble in neutral. She yells, “You girls go back to the dorm right now! And you boys also.”

Later that night, after dinner, the inevitable talk with the Headmaster, Father Cox. He tells us to “keep our noses clean” but I see the note that the teacher had given him. It reads “The girls were lying on top of the boys, overindulgence, I suggest no more warnings, make an example of them.” Father Cox looked at us with a slightly pained expression, sighed and then decided to give us a warning and agreed that she was a little prim. I had many battles over rules with Father Cox and his administration during my senior year at Brent, smoking privileges, integration of the Chapel, the suspension of Dave Bartels ’70 our school president, etc. But this time he seemed to understand that being young and being in love happens only once, then the wheel turns, and spring is gone and only memories remain. I learned something from Father Cox that day, but I didn’t know it till years later.