Glad Someone Remembers

Memory is a strange friend. You're always grateful when it's there, but if it's not, you don't miss it.

I was talking to Ron Lucia, you know, of the Valley Road Lucias and he was asking about Patricia Snyder and if we had located her. I said, unfortunately not. Ron mentioned that he thought that Joe Jacelone had dated her and might have a clue as to her whereabouts. So, I emailed Joe, who replied that he hadn't dated her so he had no idea either.

He did have a story to tell about me however. In his own words:

Charlene DeShaw and I , Bob Bitter, and someone he was dating and you were in your car driving around Wanaque resevoir on the way to Ringwood manor to "hang out" for the day.  For some reason, you were stopped in the middle of the road on a blind curve. Another car came flying down the road and had to swerve to avoid crashing into us...... they stopped and were quite agitated and yelled to you "Hey, where the hell did you get your drivers license"?  To which you replied......."CHINA"!   I have never forgotten that encounter, and it was quite funny for all of us.

I told Joe that I vaguely remember that incident, I certainly remember the car, a 4-door 1957 Pontiac Chieftain, two tone blue. It sounded like the 16 or 17 year old immortal smart aleck that I was back then. The point is not that I was so funny, but that unless someone else remembers too, you kinda remember but just dismiss it as a phantom memory or you don't remember it at all. Or you think you made it up. We all have stories about each other and chances are that when we are told about it, we either don't remember it or we remember it differently. The important point, the most important point is that most of these things happened and someone remembers. 

I remember things about phys. ed class and the endless often hilarious indignities that Coach Alan Hubschman and Coach Patrick DiLemma subjected us to, collectively and individually. Slicing and dicing us with pointless sarcasm that would've been funnier if it wasn't so embarrassing. I remember the late Kevin Walsh standing up in homeroom with a wad of gum on his nose as punishment for chewing gum at all. Thinking back, you just remember the oddest things. These memories deserve to live. Get together with your friends and help each other remember.

620+ Card Pickup

As I continue to locate current addresses for all, I have tried to be cognizant of the horrible storm damage left behind by Irene, and tried not to bother folks in the affected states. Well, hoping against hope that our classmates were lucky enough not to live in a floodplain or on a riverbank, I started to call folks in Wayne and surrounding areas and in New England with a few West Coast and Florida folks thrown in the mix too.

So I called Judy Wackwitz Gerasimenko, who recognized me, spoke long enough to say she wanted in the directory and to let me know that although she was done wading in water, she was now wading in contractor estimates for repairs to her home, so she couldn't chat and didn't know when she would be back on line to send a current photo. I thanked her, wished her good luck and went on my way. I also spoke with Janice Peck Klear who was somewhat surprised to hear from me, thought the directory was a great idea and wanted to be listed. Sometimes it is like holding a deck of 620+ cards and tossing them in the air and picking them at random to try and locate or call. Just like the old "52 card pickup" game. You push the calls into the pipeline and then you get calls or emails back. It took a second to realize to whom I was talking, but I finally came out of the fog and talked to Donna Hohnarth Van Lenten who was of immense help and just flooded me with names and possible locations for folks.

Almost forgot that I had talked with Mike Scalzo last week who rather sadly mentioned that his best friends, Ron Haggar and John Iraola were gone and that he hadn't really been in touch with anyone else since their passing. I suggested being listed in the directory might change that and he agreed. It's pretty much the same story for many. You have people you were close to. Now you are either still in touch with 40+ year friendships, or you've lost touch and don't know if it was your fault or not and so even if you had contact information you don't know if you should get in touch because of embarrassment or some other self perceived blame or fault. Been there, done that. Make the call. Send the email. I can't say it enough - there were reasons you were friends in the first place. Unless either you or they have changed and become completely different people, those reasons are still there. Once the directory is up and on line, you'll have that choice to make. Choice is good, for the Class of '67 and good for you.

Different Kinds of Sadness

Amid all the fun and conversation, amid the satisfaction of discover and location, other voices spoke out over the weekend that made me pause and think back to our high school experiences and whether or not our nostalgia has not hidden some uglier truths.

I have often made mention that I know that there are classmates who do not share our perspective on school, but I was never made more aware than when I called someone who shall remain nameless. Her first reaction was one of suspicion. She asked me how I had come to find her phone number. I replied through an Internet people search engine. She went on to relate how her high school experience was horribly different. Instead of it being one of the best times of her life, she described it as years of humiliation during which emotional and intellectual bullying were the norm and she always felt as though she could expect a new round of victimization at any time from people whose egos were far bigger than their character. So I should keep what she called "your friggin' high school" so she could continue to try to forget it forever". Wow. I was so shocked I didn't even get a chance to think to ask her if she felt I played a role in any of this. I felt so badly I was prepared to apologize for behavior I never engaged in, since I had little if any contact with her in school. By the time these thoughts were even formed in my head, and before I could utter them, I was already listening to dead air. I know that bullying in many ways and forms has become an everyday presence in today's schools, but it never occurred to me that I could have looked back to my own high school to find it. Was I so blind as not to see it? It was the kind of reminder I got from Al Piaget in Anthony Wayne after I delivered a research paper about segregation and civil rights in the Deep South. His comment on the margin was "you don't have to go any further than South Jersey migrant workers to find the same thing". Right in your own back yard.

After that, it was certainly much easier to accept that several other classmates decided not to be listed fully in the directory, one because he didn't actually graduate with us but from another school, from where his fond memories arose; one because he got kicked out before graduation; and one simply because he felt no connection to anyone in school. I simply wished them well and congratulated them for finding their place in the world.

Finally, two other items: The first, a request from Nancy LaRue's son, who was only 10 months old when she passed in Beatrice Nebraska in 1969, that anyone who was close to Nancy in school let him know their impressions of her. He never had the chance to get to know her and hoped her classmates might let him know what kind of person she was. You can post to Facebook or let me know by email so I can forward your thoughts along. I also posted this request to Facebook and thanks to those who have already posted comments.

Second, also posted on Facebook and the reunion site, please note the passing of Laura Casadevall Robinson on August 31, 2011 after a 3-1/2 year fight with cancer. A USAF Vietnam veteran, Laura will be buried this afternoon in Jacksonville National Cemetery with full military honors and will be listed as such in the directory memorial section.