Photo, with Debby Hall SprInger, '67 In 1967.  To see more photos of Andy (and us): http://www.shspoon.stirsite.com/more-photos-of-andy-.html Andy tells his own story; http://youtu.be/dFJC4gUIQNc ## From KVGC AM Radio for Amador and Calaveras Counties, CA.  http://kvgcradio.com/local-daily-headlines/4130-man-identified-in-motorcycle-crash Created on Tuesday, 24 February 2015 13:43   Man Identified In Fatal Highway 88 Crash The San Francisco man killed in a motorcycle crash on Highway 88 yesterday has been identified. Amador County Undersheriff Jim Wegner indentified the victim as 66 year old Andrew Brant Sills of San Francisco. According to the CHP report, Sills was riding his motorcycle on Highway 88 near the Thunder Mountain Trailhead when, for unknown reasons, he drove off of the North Road edge and hit a deep dirt drainage ditch alongside the road. The motorcycle flipped end over end and the victim became entangled in the bike, ending up trapped underneath the motorcycle and unconscious. Emergency personnel tried to revive him, but the man ultimately succumbed to his injuries and was pronounced dead at the scene.  ## We offer our deepest sympathy and condolences to their families.  This is a great loss for Sunny Hills High School and all of us.  Noon, Thursday, February 26, 2015.  -- UPDATE 3 PM.  Mr. Allen Whitten, Principal of SHHS writes;  "Our boys soccer team has advanced to the quarter finals of CIF and play at home tomorrow [022715] at 3:00.  We will have a full sound system set up and we will announce Andy's death to honor him there." -- FRIDAY, April 27, 2015.  A friend of Andy's named John Maunos wrote on Facebook [with his permission]: 'Today. Spectacular and sad and beautiful and funny and inspiring and tearful and full of memories and stories and full of hugs and what a beautiful family. Lots of friends and family. Huge turnout. 150 or 200? Graveside service on a hill above the main cemetery. Bright and sunny and cool and hot sun. Dramatic clouds in blue blue sky. Many testimonials by friends and family who were profoundly touched by their relation to or friendship with Andy. Many many best friends. But Andy Sills greatest legacy I think was/is the family. Jay and Tina and Laura and Erin and Eli and Rachel and Rebecca and their beautiful children and spouses. Amazing. "Jackie Wilson said I'm in heaven when you smile." Van Morrison.   'The service and burial was today at Mountain View Cemetery in Oakland CA. Noontime. A rabbi conducted the ceremony. At one point family members spoke about Andy. It was very moving. After lowering the coffin into the grave members of the family and then friends helped bury Andy. The rabbi read the Kaddish and then the family moved through the large crowd of friends to end the ceremony. Afterwards many people went to the home of Donnie Kemp and Rachel Sills Kemp to share food and remembrances of Andy. It was a splendidly sad day.' --

I have some memories of Andy, too. 

The most shining memory was from Tuesday, June 9, 1965, when Gemini 4 landed on the moon and astronaut Edward White II went outside his vehicle and performed the first American space walk. Andy was so thrilled and exuberant about that milestone that he wrote a one-line summary of it at the upper right hand corner of his weekly theme Mrs. Frances Obler had us write in English 2 at Sunny Hills High School. I remember because he sat next to me and I saw it. Andy loved America and the American people, and how we responded to great challenges. 

I remember one evening during our December break from college our freshman year in 1967. I came home to visit Rob Allingham, '66 in Sunny Hills. There came a knock on the front door, and in came Andy, so full of life and energy he was practically turning cartwheels. He loved UC Berkeley, wore an African dashiki, and had his hair in a fluffy Bob Dylan-style 'natural'.  Best of all, he greeted me and Rob with unabashed, robust hugs -- and the comradely hug had not yet reached my circle of new friends at UCLA. It felt great! So Andy taught me to let it all hang out and hug my friends passionately, and I haven't stopped yet. By the way, he was planning to become a kindergarten teacher then, which I think he actually did for a while. Not sure. 

A lot of us remember the our senior year Town Hall Class of '67 meetings Andy hosted on his parent's driveway on Catalina, banked high above street level. We sat on the asphalt in the cool air while Andy held our attention with his presence, with his hands jammed into his pockets and wearing a sheep-skin collar coat. One of those meetings was when Fred Dozier, '67 suggested we adopt CLASS OF 1967: IT WAS A VERY GOOD YEAR as our class motto, as Liz Ehinger remembered today. We passed the idea by acclamation. 

I always listened to Andy carefully, and I also remember at one of those meetings there was a dispute or controversy over some issue I've forgotten. Somebody had apparently written an anonymous letter critical of someone else. Andy said, 'If you wrIte a letter, you should have the hair to sign your name on it." YES! He could communicate and make himself understood. 

Of course, Andy could be hilariously funny, and he often enlisted his pals in a gag. Remember how he and Buddy Sutton announced themselves as a famous acrobatic team? When it came time for them to perform, Andy wore a cape and his wrestling team uniform, took a running start, leaped into the air, flew four or five feet, and Buddy caught him flawlessly and gracefully in his arms. Both guys smiled and took their bows. 

I've been thinking about Andy today since noon, through some tears, and now I believe maybe the most important thing about him was the way he could make his classmates believe in themselves. He smiled and seemed to have a moment for everyone, and in various ways -- often subtle or even silent --  he communicated how much he liked us, appreciated who we were, held a high regard for us, and convinced us he believed we were special people. By doing that, he forced us to take a look at ourselves to see what he saw in us, and conclude he must be right. It would not have worked if he hadn't meant it and been sincere. I doubt if there was a single friend or acquaintance of Andy, then or through his life, who didn't benefit from him that way. He truly had charisma, that rare, noble magnetism and ability of a leader to sway people. Surely he did.  

Andy's death causes us all to remember the last time we saw him. For many of us, it was Class of '67 Reunion in September 1988 at an Orange County hotel.  Most of us stood or sat talking that evening in a large, semi-lit lounge with a circular fireplace and an open patio at one end. Fashionably late -- about 9 or 9:30 PM, there was a stir and we saw Andy walk in with a escort, maybe two. He stood straight with his chest out, buff and in a black Versace T-shirt. His hair had begun to thin, he wore it short, and he looked a little Roman. Classmates moved toward him as if they wanted to touch the hem of his garment. He was about to be mobbed.

Like a rock star, or the pope, he made his way to the far side of the fireplace and sat on the faux marble edge. I think he sat and spoke to Joanne Mongeon (and who wouldn't want to, indeed?) The next thing we knew, a line of classmates -- a receptIon line! -- formed to wait their turns to talk to Andy. Fifteen or twenty classmates, maybe more, most with drinks in hand, spouses in tow, waiting patiently.  When each classmate's turn came, he or she would bend at the waist to speak into Andy's ear -- because it was loud in there, you see? -- and exchange a few pleasantries, and he remembered us all with a few words and a smile. 

I talked to Andy several times on Facebook starting last week. One day I wrote a short update of all the '67 Lancers I know something about -- where we lived, our occupations (or retirement), special notes or interests. It came to about 200 of us. His old friends, in other words. I made sure to send that list to Andy, and the next morning he replied, 'THAT IS UNBELIEVABLY MINDBLOWING AND POWERFUL, PAUL!! THANK YOU!!" I'm proud of us all, and so was he. He died with some knowledge and understanding of what we were all up to. That means a great deal to me. 

Andy Sills is one old friend I'm never going to forget, everybody. God bless you, Andy. I'll see you in the morning. - Paul Saevig, '67 [February 26, 2015]