In Their Own Words

Every student has a story, one that is personal and unique. Together, those stories tell a larger one, that of the institution itself.

In this second part of our special 75th anniversary coverage, our alumni tell their HCC stories — in their own words.

My introduction to Holyoke Junior College was certainly memorable. During the fall of 1959, I was finalizing a four-year hitch with the U.S. Air Force at Westover Air Force Base, and upon discharge, I intended to continue my education in engineering at HJC in the former Holyoke High School building on Pine Street. As I entered, after the day’s dismissal of high school classes, I found the building seemingly deserted, except for a key person on a rickety 10-foot ladder, changing hallway light fixtures. I asked if there was someone available to process me into the HJC program, and he replied, “I’ll be right with you,” as he finished another fixture. 

That was President George Frost himself. He then single-handedly processed my entrance exam and even gathered up a few texts I would need. The next two years were the best I could imagine, and taught by instructors from several four-year colleges in Western Mass. Eventually, I would continue my education at Western New England, and some 30 years later my two grandchildren followed in my footsteps, but at your expansive campus in the valley. Thank you for all you do, for what you do.

Arthur W. Brodeur ’56 received an Alumni Service Award from HCC in 2007. He delivered these remarks at the alumni awards ceremony.

I had initially gone to Cornell University to become a papermaker like my father, although he continually urged me not to make paper but to learn to write on it.  

I found myself in a paper mill all right, but much quicker than I had thought. In June 1955, a letter from Cornell University arrived, stating that my freshman year grades indicated I would never be a chemical engineer and that perhaps I should seek my academic fortunes elsewhere. 

In 1955 and 1956, I worked the 7-to-3 shift in the mill, then rushed “up street” to Holyoke High for late afternoon and evening classes at Holyoke Junior College, home to study and to bed, then up again to be at the time clock in Whiting’s by seven. It was a long way from “Far Above Cayuga’s Waters” — Cornell’s theme song — to those venerable corridors of Holyoke High, but within those halls was the opportunity to learn from a panoply of academic personalities, faculty drawn not merely from one college but from nearly a dozen nearby colleges and universities. 

There was Ellen Ellis of Mount Holyoke, one of the preeminent political scientists of the time, and sociologist Neal De Nood of Smith, who had me down in the Boston & Maine freight yard researching a paper on hoboes, and there was Kenneth Wright, also of Smith, who taught botany and wore a different flower in his lapel each class. I still love flowers.  

Learning was not confined to the classroom. Over at Emily and Jenny’s Italian Cooking luncheonette (caddy corner to Holyoke High), Emily and Roberto bought me an Italian grammar book and spent much time introducing me to the mellifluous and lyrical flow of the Italian language as I sat at the counter munching a cheeseburger and drinking a Coke.  

From these resplendent threads, I was able to weave a Technicolor coat which took me to Holy Cross on a scholarship in the first class of transfer students it had ever admitted, and from there on to some 40 years in journalism and university administration, including 13 at the right hand of the president of Cornell University, who said, in what I hold to be the most treasured encomium of my professional life: “Art did a lot of my thinking for me.”  

And, in another irony, as special assistant to the chancellor at the University of Connecticut, I helped develop transfer agreements between the state’s community colleges and the university. In that context, I could fully articulate, promulgate, and advocate the role of the community college in higher education. I knew what it was like to have a community college provide an opportunity, give you a chance.

When alumni speak of their alma mater, I like to speak of my alma mentor, kindly George Frost. He believed in us and he made us believe in ourselves. As a Holy Cross man, he too had been subjected to memorizing John Henry Cardinal Newman’s “Second Spring” sermon, in which Newman tells us “in our height of hope, ever to be sober; in our depth of desolation, never to despair.”  

George Frost disassembled my despair and reassembled it into a height of hope.

At 16, I got a job at New England Tel & Tel as a long-distance operator — think big time switchboard. They were only hiring women who had no college plans. There were a couple of hundred women operators, a small number of supervisors and one chief operator — not much room for advancement.  

About a month after high school graduation, I decided that I really did want to attend college. Most colleges had already chosen students to fill their rosters. My older brother, Joe Laframboise, had graduated from Holyoke Junior College in 1952. He suggested I talk to the folks there. I did. The president, George Frost, was wonderful and so encouraging. I applied and was accepted. I think there were 70 or so students in our class of 1958.

Our classes were held in the Holyoke High School building. They began at 1 and ran until 8 p.m. The faculty was all part time and included professors from Mount Holyoke, Smith, Amherst, UMass, AIC, Westfield State, and Springfield College.  

I worked a few part-time jobs while I was in school: Friendly Ice Cream on Appleton Street, the Whiting Coal Co. office, and then DeFoe Ford. I worked there until I transferred in fall of 1958 to UMass, where I received my bachelor’s degree in mathematics. After UMass, I worked for insurance companies in actuarial and computer departments. Twenty-five years after graduating from HJC, I went to law school. Three years later, I passed bar exams in Massachusetts and Connecticut and opened my own law practice. 

I’m retired now, but still have wonderful memories of my time at HJC. I made lots of friends there and participated in many activities: student council, cheerleading for the basketball team, dance committees, tea for incoming female students, graduation committee, yearbook, and more.    

George Frost and his secretary/assistant, Ellen, were always available for student questions, help or just to chat. They were quite helpful in my quest for a scholarship. My dad had died in March 1958. Without a scholarship, I would not have been able to afford UMass. 

My mother worked and helped as much as she could. I worked on campus during the academic year, first in food service and then in the office of the athletic department. During school breaks, I was able to work at the phone company again.

Together, my mother and I managed to survive without huge college loans. Because of this, my husband Gary and I feel very strongly about the benefits of scholarships. We are proud to have funded scholarships at HCC and Washington University in St. Louis, my husband’s alma mater.

Peg Wendlandt ’58 lives in New York City with her husband Gary. Together they have endowed two student scholarships through the HCC Foundation. 

When I started at HCC, they were still renovating the old high school, so I spent my first college year at Elmwood Elementary with a chemistry class in the high school annex on Sargeant Street. 

I enjoyed sports but my first year we did not have varsity teams. I played intramural basketball and fractured my skull. I still have a picture of myself, out cold on a stretcher. 

The next year, we did have varsity sports, and I played basketball and baseball. The intramural director, Bill Scanlon, became the basketball coach. Congressman Richie Neal ‘70 also played at HCC when he was here. We both played for Coach Scanlon. 

My second year we were in the renovated high school. Halfway through the school year, on Jan. 8, 1968, we had the fire, so for my second semester sophomore year we were back at Elmwood.  

I remember people like Dean Burton Butler, who was very kind to me. He was very active, supporting students and athletics. He helped me get into Stonehill College, and I got a chance to play baseball there. 

I ended up going back to HCC for the legal assistance program, which gave me a background in politics. That’s when I started working in the college bookstore. As I was getting ready to graduate, Mr. McNamara, the manager, asked me to stay on as the assistant, which I did, and later became manager. 

After I got my master’s degree in public administration from American International College, I was asked to teach an American government class at HCC. I ended up teaching for about eight years, so I’ve done a variety of things at HCC.  

I always loved coaching. I still hear from students who played for me and from players that I played with. When I got the job as acting mayor, I had quite a few people call to congratulate me and reconnect. Those HCC connections go all over. I know a guy who worked at NASA, people that run their own businesses. It goes the full gamut. 

HCC was without question the most significant organization in my life. I appreciate what I got. HCC is a good foundation. Always has been. 

Iattribute my life’s work and calling to Holyoke Community College.

In June 1970, as a senior at Chicopee High School, it was decision time – become a part of the workforce or attend college. Having studied piano and been involved in the choral and band programs, music was the only subject of interest to me. However, this last-minute decision left me unprepared to audition, a prerequisite to enter any college music program. 

HCC to the rescue. With trepidation, I arranged a meeting with Sidney B. Smith, Music Department chair. His calm and gentle manner immediately put me at ease. I can still picture my “pop” song piano audition in a classroom at the interim campus building on Beech and Sargeant Streets, where the Holyoke Senior Center now stands. Mr. Smith saw my potential and took me under his wing. Not only was I accepted on the spot, but he personally took me to the Bursar’s Office and walked me through the financial aid process. In the end, I received a Pell grant and a work-study position in the Music Department office, for which I was extremely grateful.  

The HCC Chorale gave me some of my fondest memories. At that time, rehearsals were conducted at Blessed Sacrament Church. 

With graduation approaching, I was at another crossroads. Mr. Smith encouraged me to continue my education at Lowell State College (now UMass Lowell), well known for its music program. My acceptance reflected the quality education I had received at HCC. I left HCC with several honors, including the Book Award in music

Going above and beyond, Mr. Smith set me up with his former colleague, who was an applied piano instructor at Lowell. I graduated from Lowell cum laude with a bachelor’s degree in music during the 1976 bicentennial year — it was one of the happiest days of my life. After that, I settled into teaching private lessons at my home studio.

Fast forward to 1992. With my youngest daughter about to enter kindergarten, an interest in improving my piano skills returned with a vengeance, and the road led me back to HCC, where I began taking lessons with piano teacher James Maes. Under his tutelage, my musical ability advanced by leaps and bounds. In 1996, I earned my master’s degree in piano pedagogy from the University of Hartford’s Hartt School and was inducted into the music honor society Pi Kappa Lambda. 

Armed with my new credentials, there was only one place where I wanted to teach and give back — my alma mater. April 2021 marked my 25th year teaching piano in the Community Services division at HCC. Having ended up where I started, I have come full circle. My goal was to make a difference in the lives of my students through the joyous gift of music. HCC gave me that opportunity, and I will forever be grateful.

Marie Proulx Meder ’72 lives in Chicopee, Mass.

My grandfather bought this land in 1903. The original farmhouse burned around 1905. The second was a discontinued school. It’s still there on Homestead Avenue, last house you come to before you start down the hill toward Westfield Road. My father was the youngest of six, three boys and three girls, and they all lived in that farmhouse. As they each got married, they would move out.  

I was born in 1946. When I was a kid, this was the country. Holyoke was industrial down by the dam and all through that area with the mills. Most of the people lived in apartment blocks. 

We lived down in the city. We didn’t have a car, so my father would bring the milk truck home. Around 3 or 5 o’clock in the morning, when my mother was sick of me and there was no school, she’d say, get in the milk truck and go to the farm. When you’re growing up, everybody works on the farm.

By the time I knew anything, my uncle Neil, my uncle Michael, and my father ran the farm. At one time they’d had about 60 cows, but by then it was 30-40.

I would go there many days with my father. In the spring, when he would harrow the ground to plant corn, my job was to pick up the big rocks and put them in a pile. He used to say, this land grows rocks better than it grows crops, and it’s true. It’s all rock in here. 

As kids, we roamed all over. You didn’t have to worry about someone saying get out of my yard or get off my land. We could do anything we wanted as long as we didn’t disturb the cows. 

There were two fenced pastures and two stone stockades down where the baseball field is now, where previous owners maybe kept sheep. The pastures were like golf courses, with a lot of rocks and a lot of cow pies. The cows kept the grass short, and they didn’t cross the brook that I ever saw. 

Tannery Brook was a little bit bigger then. My father used to trap all through here. Beaver, fox and a few other things you could get paid for. My father told me he used to dam the brook when he was kid and put trout in there. 

As kids, we roamed all over. You didn’t have to worry about someone saying get out of my yard or get off my land. We could do anything we wanted as long as we didn’t disturb the cows. 

We’d go camping up on the mountain. From the ridge you could look down into Rock Valley. The trees were nothing like they are today. They’re all grown up now. 

In 1957, the barn burned down, and 30-something cows were burned up. That was the end of the farm, but the land stayed in my family til 1968 when the city bought it for the college.

I started as a student at HCC in 1971 for criminal justice. That was after the fire downtown. We took classes in the interim building the city had built where the Holyoke Senior Center is today. The college administrative offices were in there and some classrooms. We also used the Elmwood School building on South Street. That’s gone now too. I was there until I graduated in 1974. Then I went to UMass, and George Gaudette hired me to teach part time at HCC in the Criminal Justice department, which had started about 1970. 

When they were building the college on the old farm land, I used to come over on occasion and watch them working. After they were done for the day, a gentleman who lived at the end of George Frost Drive would come along with this little wagon and dig around looking for dinosaur tracks. He’d donate them here and there. You still see them all around Holyoke.

I was always around because I never lived that far away. When I retired from the Mass State Police, I started coming to the gym in the Bartley Center. Then I joined the Alumni Council.

It seems like this is a place I can always return to. I’ve had use of this land my entire life, and I’ve been here a lot. I get a good feeling. I know this place. 

Jim Sheehan ’74 is a retired Massachusetts State Police major. He still lives in Holyoke, not far from HCC.

In 1971, I served as the HCC freshman class president. I stood somewhere on these 135 acres along with a host of dignitaries which included Dr. George Frost. Together, we turned over the first spadefuls of groundbreaking sand, turning the dream of a new Holyoke Community College — on its own campus — to reality. 

HCC played a huge role in my social and career development. My high school grades and my family’s finances would have otherwise prohibited me from furthering my education. Fortunately, HCC was there and accepted me. It gave me the important start I needed. We are all very fortunate to have such a quality institution — and the opportunities it affords — right here in Holyoke. 

The thing I remember most about my years at HCC was this: For the first time in my life, adults not only gave me permission to follow my interests, they actually encouraged me and spurred me to seek excellence. And I had my goals. I had often thought about continuing my rock and roll career. I had also thought quite seriously of becoming an English teacher. 

By this time, I had been making candles for about three years. Well, I had been but due to the insistence of my family and friends that I contemplate only “a real job,” candles were intended to be just a small supplement to my teaching salary. 

I kept going at HCC. The insults about candle making continued, and so did my confusion about career choices. Time was also marching on and a decision about transferring to UMass for my junior year loomed over me. I needed to discuss the courses I would take there, so it was time for a meeting with my Holyoke Community College advisor. He asked me about my career goals, and I explained about maybe being an English teacher. He told me there was a surplus of teachers at the time and pay scales were also relatively low due to the oversupply. I was ready for that and explained about my candle business concept as an income supplement. 

It was at that moment that a little bit of history was created. He leaned back and said, “Well, then why don’t you give your candle business a serious try?” Wow, I thought. He was the first person to actually suggest I might make a living doing this. We spoke for a while about the UMass BDIC (bachelor’s degree of individual concentration). 

The more we kicked it around the better it sounded to me, so I arrived at UMass all excited about my BDIC – “the history of marketing of candles.” However, I was apparently the only one with this level of enthusiasm. I tried and tried but couldn’t find a UMass faculty member willing to sponsor my new major. 

After a year of this, I decided to take a semester off from UMass to follow my HCC advisor’s advice and “give my candle business a serious try.” I never went back. That’s why I can honestly say, without HCC, there might not have ever been a YCC.”

Michael Kittredge founded the Yankee Candle Company. In 1996, he delivered these remarks during his HCC Commencement address. He died in 2019.

HCC has done a lot for me. I joined the Student Senate. I was a DJ at the radio station. I played on the tennis team. I wasn’t great at tennis, but I learned it was OK to be bad at something new. It was all about the mindset. I tried so many new things. That’s the beauty of this place. It’s a genuine place where people want to see you succeed. If someone is looking to get a start or start over, this is where you begin.  

Through HCC, I met Mike Kittredge, who started Yankee Candle. He’s on my Mount Rushmore when it comes to entrepreneurship. He taught me so much about business. There literally is no Myke Connolly and Stinky Cakes or Launch and Stand Out without Mike Kittredge.

I had learned about Mike Kittredge when I lived in the Bahamas, reading about him in magazines. When HCC was raising money for what is now the Kittredge Center, he hosted a fundraising event up at his house. I was one of the student ushers.   

“When I moved to this country from the Bahamas, HCC was one of the first places that embraced me. I literally felt like I was back home. If you’ve ever visited the Caribbean, everyone loves on you, and that’s how HCC was. It was the same kind of welcoming vibe.” 

One of the first things I noticed about him is that he wasn’t arrogant. He greeted everyone and would have a conversation with them. He was a down to earth person. When I finally met him, I had to talk to him, and we just started talking business. 

When we were done talking, he said, “Young man, you have what it takes. Go make it happen.” That was validating for me. That’s why I only have a two-year degree and didn’t go on to UMass. 

When I started Stinky Cakes, I wrote Mr. Kittredge a letter, asking him what he thought about my business idea. It was two or three years after I’d met him. I didn’t even know if he was going to remember me. He sent me a letter back. I still have it. I was blown away. I read the letter, and, I promise you, that letter is like my MBA. I could read that letter right now and still learn something. 

Being a young entrepreneur with crazy ideas, you go talk to your family and friends, and they’re like, you’re crazy, and then you go talk to a guy who sold his business for $500 million, and he says, No, that’s great. Here’s how I would do it. That’s the kind of advice every hungry entrepreneur should have access to.

How Mike was with me, how he was willing to teach me, that inspired me to teach. I have to share what I’ve learned. After his death, I promised that for the rest of my life I would always share his story because he means so much to me.

Mychal Connolly ’04 is co-founder of the Stinky Cakes newborn baby gift company, chief brand ambassador of StandOutTruck.com, an offshoot of his business, Launch and Stand Out, a Springfield-based advertising and marketing agency.

When I was a student at HCC, all I knew about Elaine Marieb was that her name was on the side of a building. Years later I met her as coordinator of Pathways. I remember the marathon meetings we had in preparation for her visit, getting the whole rundown on who she is, why she was important, and why she was coming. 

She was interested in making a donation to support programs like New Directions and Pathways that help non-traditional students continue their educations. They told me she was someone who doesn’t mince words — if she asks a question, answer directly, and don’t be long-winded. It struck me like, Wow, this is a big deal. Don’t mess this up. I was excited, but nervous.

At the time, we didn’t have a space for our students, other than general meeting rooms or public areas like the cafeteria. Elaine had been a non-traditional student herself and valued the support she had received. She felt it was important to set aside a dedicated space where non-traditional students, specifically women, would feel welcome and part of the college community, so they would know we value them. 

Knowing many non-traditional students, single mothers like myself who went back to school, we usually have to carve out a space somewhere to study, like at the kitchen table or on top of the washing machine, or wherever. I learned a lot from her and her story and how similar it was to all of ours, all of the non-traditional students wanting to learn. She had multiple degrees and got her associate degree in nursing from HCC while she was teaching here. She was a lifelong learner. It was clear that she valued education. 

That resonated so strongly with me, the idea that anything is possible through education, that it offers such life-changing possibilities. She cared a lot about who was heading the efforts and wanted to make sure they held similar values and that these vital programs she supported would be sustained. She really believed in the values HCC stands for: access, opportunity, support. I definitely feel humbled to be able to continue her legacy through the work we do in the Elaine Marieb Center.

Other colleges don’t have a space like this, a lounge, study area, and computer room, where we also serve coffee, tea, and treats. We try to give students all the supports plus the comforts of home because we know they’re going to be spending a lot of time with us and we want them to stay. 

After the center opened, Elaine would sometimes come to visit. She was quiet, smart, gracious. She would mostly sit and listen, even though we all felt she was the rock star. 

She always wanted to hear directly from students, and they made such  an effort to be here to express their appreciation. They would say, “this is the place where I feel I can rest, where I can  do homework and connect with other women like myself, not feel so alone or crazy for doing this” – because the ones with children, they always feel that mother’s guilt, you know? I shouldn’t be here, I should be at home, or I should be at work. 

Elaine Marieb’s gifts to the college send the message that it’s OK to dream big; it’s gonna be a long road, but you’re on the right path. This is your space, and this is where you belong. 

Irma Medina ‘97 is the coordinator of HCC’s Pathways program.

When I started working in HCC’s Gateway to College program in 2010, I was so excited to be hired because I did not have a college degree. I had taken a few classes at HCC after high school, but I had to leave school and work to support by newborn daughter.  

I showed up at HCC ready to prove that taking a chance on me had been worth it. I am grateful that my supervisor, Vivian Ostrowski, saw something more in me than I saw in myself. She encouraged me to go back to college and introduced me to Irma Medina, coordinator of the Pathways Program. I had no idea then how much that would change my life.

I was 30 years old and the thought of earning my associate degree felt like a long-lost dream. To Irma, though, that was just the beginning. She introduced me to elite schools like Smith College. She advised me, encouraged me, pushed me, and listened when my fears threatened to stop my progress. Eventually, I realized Smith was the place I was meant to be. Can you imagine the audacity? I didn’t know if I was smart enough, how I would afford it, or even how to apply. Irma knew. As a single mother herself and a graduate of Mount Holyoke College who had started at HCC, she had walked this journey and dedicated herself to showing others the path and making us believe that we deserved it too.

When I graduated from Smith, I felt the same impulse to reach back and pull others along. In Gateway, we do exactly that. Our students are working on their high school diplomas at HCC. They have all had their educations interrupted, whether it’s because of work, or a sick parent, or they have children themselves. I recognize in their stories this interruption but I also see in them this desire to do more, to do better, to continue and not give up. I think so often people get lost in the story of their dropping out of school and forget to see that they possess so many valuable skills and so many wonderful gifts. What they all have is a desire to finish in spite of the stuff that’s gotten in their way, and so we try to find new ways for them to continue their dreams in the same way I was able to continue mine. 

I was 30 years old and the thought of earning my associate degree felt like a long-lost dream.

Julissa Colón ’13

We don’t just look at them in an academic sense; we see them as whole people, with whole life stories. It’s not just about whether or not they passed English or science. It’s about who they are as individuals, what they have for their dreams, who their families are, what communities they come from, and how we can help them find a pathway to success. 

Julissa Colón is the special programs coordinator for HCC’s Gateway to College program. She holds a bachelor’s degree in Latin American Studies and History from Smith College. Her daughter, Jayda Aponte, graduated from HCC in 2021.

My dad worked 42 years at a paper company in Holyoke called National Blank Book – 42 years inside the same four walls in the same basement with the same three guys on the same printing press and hated every day of it. I couldn’t see myself doing that. 

During high school at Holyoke Catholic, in between sports, I started at Jake’s Restaurant in Chicopee as a short order cook, sometimes working Friday and Saturday nights til three o’clock in the morning, flipping eggs, burgers and stuff like that. And I just loved the cooking. I loved the food. I loved working with people.

Right out of high school, I was working 60-70 hours a week in restaurants. The pay was not that great. To get a decent salary in the food service industry you had to have an associate degree. 

Thank God for HCC to give me that. 

At the time, I couldn’t afford anything, and my parents couldn’t afford anything. To get better in a business that I wanted to be in I needed HCC. I started night school in 1976. 

At the time, I couldn’t afford anything, and my parents couldn’t afford anything. To get better in a business that I wanted to be in I needed HCC. I started night school in 1976.

When I came here it was only four buildings. Donahue, Frost, FPA, Marieb. But back then they were just called A, B, C, and D. Bartley Center wasn’t here. Campus Center wasn’t built yet. Kittredge wasn’t here. At the end of the hallway of the first floor of Frost there was a little luncheonette that the culinary program ran for students who were going to school here during the day. At night, the only places to get food were the vending machines. 

Terry Grinnen was the head of the department of hospitality and food service. Franz Stegbuchner was an absolutely incredible chef, and he was a great, great professor and teacher. I learned a lot from them. 

Some classes were incredibly boring to me, like accounting and English. But when it got to the food service end of it, aww, I loved that stuff. Tuesdays were lecture nights; we learned how to do recipes and create menus. On Thursdays, we went into the kitchen and produced meals.

It was tough, though. It took me five years to get my associate degree. There were days I’d put in 10 hours at the restaurant then be sitting here trying to listen to the professor and falling asleep at seven o’clock at night. But it was well worth it because once you got hired, an associate degree put you on a better level.  

After HCC, I started working for ARA food services, which is now Aramark, first at Pratt & Whitney, then the University of Hartford, and finally back here at HCC.

I’ve really enjoyed the food service business. Meeting new people on a regular basis was always something different. And, of course, during this whole time here I am having a nice family life with my wife Debbie and both my daughters. Thanks to the education I got at Holyoke Community College I got myself a good job. Both my girls graduated from college; Erin and Sheila are doing absolutely great. I’m a grandfather now. My wife and I love to travel. We live a great family life. 

Thank God HCC was a school I could afford that gave me the opportunity to work at the same time. Otherwise, who knows what I would have done?

Mark Pronovost ’81 is the retired director of Aramark/HCC Dining Services.

After high school, I worked at New England Telephone and took a couple of night classes for a few years. Then, I got married and started a family. When my daughters, Kim ’01 and Sarah ’03, were at Holyoke High School, I kept telling them to push themselves even if their classes were hard. Finally, they challenged me to go back to HCC to finish my degree. The challenge was that I had to get my degree before they both graduated from high school. Let me tell you, it was very hard, but I did it. Most nights, we were all doing homework and sometimes my daughters had to help me with my assignments. 

Sarah graduated from Holyoke High in 1996. I graduated from HCC in 1997. Kim graduated from Holyoke High in 1998. 

My father, Robert E. Evans, Jr. ’50, had been an HCC counselor and professor, and the college’s first Affirmative Action officer. He received the Distinguished Service Award from HCC at Commencement in 2001. That was the same year Kim received her associate degree. My dad always said, “My proudest moment at HCC was to be on the stage and watch my granddaughter walk up and receive her diploma.” He died a year later, before Sarah graduated from HCC in 2003. 

My fondest memories of HCC are of my classmates. Being older, I thought the other students would make fun of me, but it was the complete opposite. They were willing to help me study before class and made me feel very comfortable. I loved that both day and night students graduated together. 

One more thing: On the last day of third grade — “Represent Your Culture Day” — my granddaughter, Alivia Rivera (Sarah’s daughter), chose to wear the African-American stole I had worn for my graduation in 1997. Maybe Alivia will be the next one to carry on our family legacy at HCC.

Trudy Monson lives in Holyoke and is vice president of HCC’s Alumni Council.

When I first started at HCC, I was not sure exactly what I wanted to study so I decided to take classes that interested me. One of them was Introduction to Theater with Professor Leslie Phillips. I remember how excited she was about theater and how welcoming to the students in the room. Her enthusiasm was so profound it just pulled you in.  

Following that, I signed up for her Modern Drama class. By then, she was directing a play by Sam Shepard, “Buried Child.” What she did for me, and what I learned from her, was that she simply asked me to be part of the production staff, to work on publicity, and that invitation was so important. It got me working with the cast and crew. I remember vividly how it made me feel, and so I do that today with my students. I just ask them, “Would you like to be part of the production? Do you want to audition? Would you like to learn how to do costumes? Would you like to work on lights? Would you like to help build the set?” 

She was the model for what I do now. When you ask people to join in, they’re usually thrilled because they want to be a part of something larger than themselves. Fortunately, we’ve all got a home here in the Leslie Philips Theater, on stage, backstage, and in the booth. There is a space for everyone to be creative and develop projects and come up with new ideas. 

Over the years, it’s amazing how many people have been impacted by what Leslie Phillips started and what Jeanne Hatch, Roy Faudree, and Tom Shielding continued. All those people taught and mentored me. To this day, what Tim Cochran, Matt Whiton and I try to do is help students find a home, a place where they can create art, teach the community something about society, and do work that reflects society while representing the HCC community.

I have a wonderful memory of Leslie. I was going through some difficulty, and one day I was not able to make it to class on time. I debated whether to go in late, but I decided that even if she got upset with me, it was worth that to get her discussing theater for another 45 minutes rather than to miss out entirely. So, I walked in half an hour late. I apologized, and, she said to me, “Oh, Pat, I am so glad you’re here. I was going to start talking about this modern theater production, and I knew you would be interested in it.” 

That act of kindness and understanding stayed with me. It meant the world to me then. Now, as a teacher, I always try to think of students’ lives and what might be going on that keeps them from making it to class. 

Professor Patricia Sandoval ’84 teaches theater and public speaking at HCC. Leslie Phillips, founder of HCC’s theater program, died in 1988. 

In my first semester at HCC, I started an internship at WGBY, now NEPM. I was part of their Latino Youth Media Institute. I haven’t really left the station since that first semester. 

I’ve worked in a lot of different departments inside WGBY, starting in production. I learned everything behind the cameras, how to work the equipment, and things like that. Once that year-long internship finished I started working in community engagement on “Presencia,” what was then a new local bilingual series at WGBY. The idea was to create a program that could serve as a gateway for Latinos in the area who were interested in media, to help them gain experience in broadcast television and create a pipeline for careers. 

It works. Two years ago, I joined the “Connecting Point” team as a host and reporter. Last year I was promoted to main host. 

I had always known that I would go to HCC right after high school. I didn’t look anywhere else. I was born and raised in Holyoke. I still live in Holyoke today. It was a natural transition, and it made sense. It was still home, it felt right, and turned out to be one of my most amazing experiences. If I could I would have stayed there for four years. I was so sad to leave. It was just such a good community, a very welcoming environment. I finished up at Westfield State University. That was a super easy transition.  

I had always known that I would go to HCC right after high school.

At HCC, I took some communications and media-related classes, journalism, writing, and public speaking. I am a naturally shy, reserved person. Those courses pushed me out of my comfort zone and prepared me for this role. 

The biggest thing that I hope anybody else who’s Latino-Latina-Latinx and from Holyoke learns from my experience is that you can get a position like this and you don’t have to go to an expensive, four-year college far away. I got this education literally in my backyard. It was super affordable. I didn’t have to move away. 

People have said to me, “Go to New York, go to Boston or some bigger city.” No. I’m working right here in Springfield, doing the job that I always dreamed about with my community, telling their stories on the air. That’s one thing I offer that they didn’t have before – a door to this community. They trust me, because I’m part of their community. And I genuinely care and want to share their stories because I understand their stories. And I went to a community college. I think that’s the coolest part.

Zydalis Bauer ’09 is the host of “Connecting Point” on New England Public Media.