When I was a freshman two juniors fell “deeply-madly-no one else-existed” in love. But it was 1972, he came from an old Italian-American family and she was African American, from the Deep South. When the parents found out, there were attempts on both sides to separate them, but they kept sneaking out to see each other. At the end of the semester her parents packed her up and sent her back South to stay with relatives. He practically camped out on their front lawn trying to find out where she’d gone. So his family sent him up to Russian River hoping he would heal and forget her. But he committed suicide.
The news devastated the entire community. There was a memorial to him in that year’s yearbook.