The Last

 Well, it finally happened. I long ago told Linda that I wasn't going to move again. I told her to tell the next buyers of our home that it came with an Asian gardener. The problem is that I can't really garden effectively anymore. No stamina since Covid. So once again, we had the discussion about downsizing and I finally relented. So we decided to go take a look at condos/garden homes. Now, understand that when Linda says we're going to take a look, it means we're going to buy. An RV, a boat, a couple cars, another RV; well enough said. We come, we look, we buy and sure enough we did. And we both realized at the same time that this one was the last. So we're gearing up to make the last move and decide what we will no longer need in yard maintenance tools and handyman tools and shop vacs and chain saws and on and on it goes. 

Today was the Great American Eclipse. And the commentators said this will be the last till August 2044. I'd like to think I can last till then but then again, who knows.  It made me think of the one I viewed in the late 1950's on my grandmother's stoop in Wisconsin with my pinhole camera, and the one in 2017 in Indiana. Practically, this one is the last for me.

It's been a year of lasts. The last truck, the last car, my last Facebook message from my friend, my last conversation with my mother. Too many lasts. That's the half empty perspective after 75 years of adventure and thrills and spills that I don't regret for a moment. Each one has contributed to who I have become. I have decided to take the half full perspective which simply means that I have to relish the thrills and spills yet to come. I'm ready for my next last.

Well that last turned into another one. After two months under HOA rules, nosey neighbors, and the dogs objecting to personal hygiene on concrete, it was time for the last last move. But in the meanwhile, partly due to curiousity, and partly out of a desire to finish the job with new search tools and AI available now, I convinced Linda to help me finish finding the rest of our classmates and at the same time find out if there were any other folks that have passed. Now Linda's class of 330 has 120 people who passed. So if I used the same ratio on our lass of 630..... We have ferretted out less than 100. It is an unreasonable expectation that our class would enjoy enhanced longevity over any other large group. So we begin the search again. You'll find the results of our efforts on Facebppl although I am not happy with the random photo sizing and spacing, it'll have to do.

My Friend is Gone

 It's been so long that I don't even remember how I met Paul Wagner. I know it couldn't have been before sophomore year in high school since that was when Anthony Wayne and Schuyler Colfax kids got thrown in the mixing pot of Wayne Valley. It just seems like we were always friends, always ready to engage in those serious conversations that teenagers who think they're all grown have that help determine which direction they head off into the real world.

Back then, he was a diver; he would run headlong into the void and take a flying leap throwing caution to the wind no matter what he did intellectually or in action. He was always just busting out with things that he wanted to do or ideas he wanted to explore. 

Back then, I was a dabbler, always cautious, taking life in little bites with one toe in the water, never committing fully to anything but willing to try a little. I was a generalist, someone who knew a little about a lot. My curiosity was wide ranging, more than superficial, but never fully committed to learning everything about anything. 

I can't count how many discussions we had about our differing approaches to learning and life. And over time we both moved closer to the center for the benefit of both.  We had some amazing experiences and experiments and learned about life and each other. Having a friend to talk with always made it easier, whatever it was.. Even after graduation, beginning college life, we stayed in touch, getting together whenever I was in Jersey to discover what my friend had gotten himself into now. I remember him telling me he was going to San Francisco. I remember when he left for what he hoped would be a life as a singer/songwriter.  

We lost touch with each other as we both faced our individual challenges. I spent 30 years wondering if he had succumbed to the AIDS epidemic in San Francisco. But that's what losing touch is. No way to confirm or deny. It was only with my mission to find all our classmates that brought revealed that we had both survived living to speak to each other again. Even then, I realized that his health wouldn't let him travel anymore, and like always, there just isn't enough time to do everything we want or need to do. His brother Jeffrey's post would have caught me completely by surprise had it not been for a single short post that Paul left for me: "You are my good friend". I didn't know what he meant by that then. Now I do.

Good bye my friend, I will never forget you.

Beginning of the End

Yesterday, my 74th birthday, I am both happy and sad. Today is a wistful and thoughtful one. I am happy that I have survived yet another year in relatively good health and with my wits still about me; Sad because I don't have my parents with me to help celebrate. I always knew that this day would come, and I have, for years, secretly thanked my lucky stars as I watched my contemporaries lose their parents one by one. Now that it has finally arrived, my intellectual sympathy for their loss is now compounded with my profound personal grief. 

So even as I celebrate my birthday with my Indiana family, I am also thinking about my now greatly reduced Wayne family and Brandon Avenue and memories of the past celebrations. My parents were the glue that held together the entire East Coast family of cousins, aunts and uncles. We would be together every major holiday and my dad would cook the family dishes and a good time would be had by all. It's all gone now, just a memory and that's exactly the point.

As long as we remember, all is not lost. And while I may forget to close the door, or turn off the lights, or that final grocery item at the store, I remember those family times and hold them close to my heart because as long as we remember, all is not lost.

I send my gratitude for those who sent notes of sympathy and celebration.

Like Ships Passing in the Night.....

 Hey All. Was busy minding my own business, looking forward to a late Spring of camping in our new 17 foot Sun-lite ( the seasons in Indiana have made a weird shift this year), when I got an email from someone I didn't know. I don't make it a habit of opening unknown email  in the era of malignant spam, but it opened "Memorial Update". 

I was ready to hit the Trash button but finally decided to read it. First it informed me, and now you, of the passing of Peter T. Cole without much further detail. The email said that he used to live nearby in upstate NY and that the informant had learned of his passing from a mutual friend. I immediately flashed on that great picture of Peter in the yearbook, all sprawled out at his desk with an open book in front of him and an expression that spoke volumes about how much he cared about the content of that book. Linda and I will try to locate an obit which we'll post if we can find it. 

The Year Drags Itself Over the Line

 So here we are on the cusp of a new year, a better year. But we can’t say good bye to the year without saying good goodbye to another classmate. I admit that I’ve put this off by a few months. Bob Wanek let me know that we lost Bob Greenblatt. Greenie always crushed on Pat Snyder having dated her in school. He also shared the home town of East Haven CT with Karen Carpenter and me. I lived in East Haven in a shared beach house during my last year at Yale. I talked for quite a while with Bob a couple of years ago and he commented that I was one of only a few who called him Greenie. I couldn’t remember how that came to pass. 

I put off publishing Bob’s passing because I was in a funk at the time. I needed some good news; I still do.The kind of good news that maybe only a new year can bring and as I wish myself a happy new year, so too do I wish you all one also. Happy New Year my good people. 

A Decision Made

 

Although there are certainly other things that get posted on our class Facebook page beyond the final rest of our classmates, it is increasingly becoming the most frequently changing part of the page as it was when my website authoring software was functional. So for the time being, I am going to use this blog to highlight the final passage of our classmates. 

The blog posts will then be linked to the class Facebook page or can be followed independent of Facebook for those not favorably disposed to that social media platform but who might still want to connect to our class. I am more than happy not to have anything to report but invite any and all to contribute to our class directory knowledge base. 

This web-based platform is also much more portable than the heavy duty laptop I used for the website so I can travel lighter when Linda and I continue our travels out and about. As it is, our trips sans RV have the Sienna looking like the lead wagon of the Gypsy caravan. “Less is more” becomes more and more a distant memory armed with bedding and mobility devices and medications and therapeutics. But ya gotta keep movin’ or consider the alternative!

Facebook Memorials

 On our just completed jaunt to North Carolina's Outerbanks (OBX to the trendy) I found myself sitting on the Eastern bank of the bayside (on Dock street of all places) to watch one of the spectacular sunsets.

It brought to mind Dale Weber's frequent posts of Carolina sunsets on the shore of his lake so even though he's been gone a couple of years, I felt compelled to post on his Facebook page to share my sunset photo because I knew he would have liked it. And that made me think about the frequent practice of families to maintain a loved one's FB page even though they are gone as evidence of their loved one' life. 

Many of our deceased classmates still have active FB pages and many of us automatically wish them a Happy Birthday out of reflex or common practice or courtesy when Facebook reminds us that their birthday is here. I'm guilty too only to discover or remember rather sheepishly that they are gone and have been for quite a while. I've since decided that rather than be embarrassed, I will now post on the pages of classmates long gone as though they were still here since to me anyway, as long as I remember them, they aren't really gone. So Happy Birthday Martha Hunt Utter. Here's to fond memories we shared at the 45th Reunion and on Facebook. We remember and will continue to do so every year as long as your Facebook page continues to exist and beyond.