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.

Dale Weber, my Smart Ass Friend

 I just found out, quite by accident, that my friend, Dale Weber passed away in his sleep in September of 2020, just a few weeks before I lost my Dad. I'm almost just as glad that I didn't find out about his passing until the enormity of my father's loss had dulled somewhat. I was surfing Facebook, which I only occasionally frequent and noticed a post from his son, mentioning his father followed by RIP. I knew then that I had missed something and googled Dale's name in North Carolina where he had retired and sure enough, his obit popped right up. Once I get the website going again, I'll post his obit on the memorial page.

The one thing I can tell you is that Dale was always the consummate smart ass; and he was witty and funny. He always had a wise crack that was subvoiced just loud enough to be overheard. He infuriated gym teachers, substitute teachers, and many other voices of authority that frequented the high school. He popped many a self righteous bubble. And later in life, he took the most beautiful sunset pictures from his backyard in Seven Lakes NC. We conversed briefly on Facebook after he would post these spectacular panoramic views and we'd joke with each other like we did in school.

What I learned from this is that you have to reach out to high school friends acquaintances and buddies, because when you wonder what ever happened to so and so, as often as not at our age, you find out that they are no longer available to reach out to. The same can be said about the lunch Linda and I had with Carol Vanderway in Nashville. We had a grand time. Given the time we could have annoyed the wait staff at McCormick's Irish Pub even more but we had to go to a Grand Ole Opry performance. During that visit, we talked about, among other things, the people we met in high school that we didn't engage with fully, just passing in halls with a Hi howyadoin. I know that when I was searching you all out, I had many conversations that made me think that this person could have been a lifelong friend if I had taken the time. And sure enough, as often as not, I discovered that it was too late to develop such a friendship and so with great regret, I bid Dale a fond farewell. 

So the next time you wonder about someone, look 'em up and get reacquainted. It's never too late until it is.

 Yeah, I know. It's been a dog's age since I've visited with you. First, I discovered that I never published Carol Appleton's post about Pam Zott over two years ago. Apologies to Carol. It's now published.

I've got some news for those of you who went to Anthony Wayne JHS. I am sorry to report, courtesy of Kristi Vaiden, the passing of Al "Doc" Piaget, this past Saturday in Wayne. Doc, as he became known in his later years, was a beloved block teacher who introduced us to so many important things in life including learning to think for yourself, social justice, character and to look at things with new eyes. In concert with his then wife to be, Dorothy Tunis, they provided the one-two punch that propelled us into adulthood and the reality of life beyond school. It made me think about our reunion several years ago and how much he meant to us that we would come from all across the country to be with them one more time. It made me think of when I lost my first wife. In my grief and desperation, I reached out to them to try to regain my stability and they contribute more than they knew to my returning to humanity. I hope he knew how much he impacted a generation of kids in Wayne in the early Sixties, and how much he was loved and respected.

An Anthony Wayne Loss

Pam Zott

Updating emails

Getting ready for spring

We recently received an announcement from Carol Appleton

"It is with great sadness I write to tell you that Pam Zott White passed away this morning after battling pancreatic cancer for nearly a year. She had a strong faith and had trusted Jesus as her Lord and Savior many years ago, even though she told me that she wasn’t ready to leave this life, she had every assurance that she would spend eternity with Christ."

It's been a long winter.....

It has been a long and difficult winter. It's not just the weather either. After another difficult foot reconstruction surgery (thankfully I only have two of the damn things), and the incredibly cruel winter (and that's only so far - there are still a couple months to go), it is increasingly difficult to go any length of time without visiting the obituaries, but they tend to visit me. I try to stay current on Facebook but if I want to comment I have to post on the Wayne Valley Directory page. Here's the email I got from Rick Sasse today:

Milton,

Good afternoon.  It is not unusual to read the Providence Journal obituary section and see people I know. In this case it was somehow I had known for over 50 years, Bonnie Crossley.  For no necessary reason we didn’t really get to know each other, but we met at a reunion both knowing we lived in Rhode Island, and became friends. It will be a lonely Wayne Valley ’71-Rhode Island reunion, as I think it would now be Donna Smith (unless she has moved), and Richie Abramson moved to Moodus, CT, in retirement.

http://www.carpenterjenks.com/obituaries/Bonnie-Margaret-Arsenault-?obId=2895988#/celebrationWall

Rick

So even though I hate to kick start this blog with bad news, I still remain committed to locating and keeping us all up to date with what has happened to members of our class. Here's to a better spring.

Doug Senchak 1949 - 2017

I got a dreaded email from Steve Thomas on August 13, 2017:

With great sadness I write to tell you of the passing yesterday of our friend and classmate, Doug Senchak.  Doug’s health had been failing for a while.  Myself and classmates Arnie Trasente and Andrew Savulich were were en route from our homes when Doug passed.  We all gathered and spent time with with his family yesterday at their farm in upstate NY.

It brought me back to the last time I spoke with Doug. He had called me to let me know of the passing of Peter Isaza, several years ago, and we took the opportunity to catch up. I hadn't spoken to him since I first recontacted him when he was still in the City.

I know that in the process of trying to locate everyone that on more than one occasion I remember thinking that this was an opportunity lost, that this person could have ended up a close friend, with a friendship that would have lasted over the years with many happy memories and many laughs if things had turned out slightly differently. This was certainly true between Doug and me.

Our lives just didn't intersect at acute enough angles. Instead we passed the point and our own momentum just drove us onward. I will always regret that but I am also grateful to Steve, Arnie and Andy for standing in my place in memory of Doug. Even though we never spent that much time together, the time we did was good, his presence was always appreciated, and he will always be remembered by me for his ready wit and smile.

Back on the Trail

Now that we're rested up from our Russian trek, Linda is back on the trail of  our "missing" classmates once again.

Of course, the search reminded me of a street performer we encountered in St. Petersburg who coincidentally was portraying a metallic Sherlock Holmes statue and delighting the kiddies near a church entryway by winking every now and then for a small donation.

The search continues. On the sad side, we discover that David French served in the 101st Airborne in Vietnam only to return to North Carolina in 1968 and succumb to injuries sustained in a motorcycle accident. It reminded me of John Chichin who was killed in a hit and run accident shortly after graduation, and the sad thought that I had imagined both of them living out long and fulfilling lives only to discover that their lives had been cut short by tragic circumstances.


Joyce Polizzi Porr is still in Wayne, but recently lost her husband of 47 years, Joe Porr. Another classmate hidden in plain sight. Barbara Preusch is in Fredericksburg VA, now married to Michael Lehr. I have an email that I plan to use to see if she is indeed our Barbara Preusch. It just goes to show how fickle these searches can be. We previously had information that led us to believe that she was in Sedona, AZ.

So the search for "lost" classmates continues, for better or worse.

Our World is a Little Bit Smaller

Amid all the Facebook birthday wishes for Charlene DeShaw Norris came a jarring post from Charlene DeShaw Norris's family announcing her passing on May 5th of this year. Our world is a little bit smaller. With each passing our realization that time is moving on continues. All that remains permanent (at least so far) is our memories of a magical time. For me, the hours I spent in the orchestra pit for our high school musicals were some of the most rewarding and enjoyable of my high school career at WVHS. The friendships, the cameraderie, the oneness of the group will not easily be replaced in my affection. Farewell Char, and in the words of C. Tucker, may flights of angels sing thee to thy rest. I am sure I join with all the other folks from our high school production group in sending our deepest sympathies to Charlene's family.

An Old Friend Gone

In the fall of 1964, we gained a new classmate in Mr. Onufer's homeroom (and subsequent Latin classes across the street). He hailed from up North, and his accent was thick of New Hampshire and Vermont and in his leisure, he wore a Bates College sweatshirt. He was bashful, and like all shy people, he tended to overcompensate a little when given the opportunity. I think as a result he was often either overlooked or bullied. He nonetheless persisted. He ended up as our Smoke Signals photographer, and over our high school years, he and I ended up as friends, despite our differences.

This afternoon, I received an email from Rick Sasse, who couldn't exactly remember if Doug Fowler was part of our 7-3/8-4 Anthony Wayne experience, but I was pretty certain that Doug missed out on all that but did share much of what followed. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe Rick is right. This is the sort of thing that happens more frequently nowadays. I remember something from back then, and then self doubt asks me if I actually remember that or am I simply remembering the fantasy that I constructed for myself the last time I tried to remember the same series of events.

I do remember speaking to Doug in Nashua NH, as he related the highlights of his life, in which service stations played a major part. In view of my checkered past, I remember listening without judgement, as Doug tried to justify his history and I do distinctly remember telling him that I long ago gave up all judgement about roads not taken, and opportunities missed or life choices that didn't quite work out as we hoped they would. At our way point on the crooked road of life, it long ago stopped mattering; with that ice broken, he regaled me with memories of silly things that we did in gym together and other better times we had. In short, it was another chapter of my search for classmates 5 years ago and another checkmark on my master list of WV grads. It engendered another afternoon of serious soul searching and nostalgic wonderment about how things turned out for another friend with whom I had lost touch.

Here is Doug Fowler's obit for those of you who read this type of thing and think of all that we have done and what we will leave behind:

Douglas H. Fowler, 64, longtime resident of Nashua, died at the Community Hospice House in Merrimack on April 12, 2014, surrounded by members of his loving and devoted family.

Mr. Fowler was born on October 21, 1949, in Massachusetts. He was a son of Patricia (Smith) Fowler of St. Petersburg, FL and the late Donald H. Fowler.

He was the husband of Rosa (Gomes) Fowler, they shared over 12 years of marriage.

Most recently, he had been working with tech support for Comcast. For many years, he was a regional manager for several service stations including Circle K and Shell.

He is remembered as a gentleman who worked hard all his life. He also enjoyed reading. Mr. Fowler loved to challenge his mind with brain games and teasers such as Sudoku. He enjoyed music and dancing.

Mr. Fowler was a veteran of the United States Air Force, having entered after graduating high school, had achieved the rank of Staff Sergeant during his enlistment. His Air Force career brought him all around the world and gave him many life experiences, including a chance to run with the bulls in Spain.

Mr. Fowler cared deeply for his community and was a Master Mason of Lee Lodge No. 30 in Castleton, VT. He was a member of the Scottish Rite Bodies in the Valley of Burlington and the Vermont Consistory 32nd Degree and the Cairo Shriners of Rutland, VT. He was also a member of The American Legion of West Rutland, VT.

SERVICES: A Masonic Funeral Service in his honor will be conducted by the Officers and Members of Ancient York Lodge #89, Nashua at the Masonic Temple, 200 A Main St. (elevator entrance) Nashua on Thursday evening, April 17, 2014 at 6:30 PM. His interment prayers and burial service will be held at a later date in Barre, Vermont at the request of the family.

So farewell, Doug. I'll remember you sitting in the corner of the Smoke Signals office cracking inappropriate jokes and trying to get someone to play chess with you. I'm glad I got a chance to catch up with him before the end.

Full of Sound and Fury, Signifying Nothing, Again.

Maybe it is Reunions that get our digestive juices flowing. I know that many of us believe that reunions allow us to relive our high school glory days, if just for a day. Then again, it also reveals that some of us never really stopped living those days.

For our part, we saw a need and moved to satisfy it: Find our classmates, contact them, and in some unfortunate cases, record their passing. We were led to believe that could be our contribution to the class. To some, it has become an uncomfortable reminder of lost opportunity, to others a reminder of their mortality. To yet others, it is taken in the spirit in which it was offered: cause for celebration and commemoration.

But truth be told, for us, it has become a symbol of how a group of people from so many different backgrounds came together for their high school years to create a unique synergy. Think of the great things we did together; we had athletic teams which hold records still unbroken; we produced all school productions the equals of which I have yet to see in high school; our combined concert band chorale performances were magnificent; our academic achievements still shine in the award displays of the school. Even in classes, the unique collection of teachers we were blessed with provided a real education in spite of our silly selves.  And throughout and above it all, we had fun.

Building the alternative website was not fun. It was a lot of work. But it was necessary. It needed to exist and despite interference from surprising circles, it prevails and serves its purpose. It truly represents a continuing effort to locate living classmates whose whereabouts are unknown, a clearing house for such information; it is also a living dynamic memorial for classmates who have crossed
the veil as told by their families, through obituaries, so that their classmates may be informed about what remarkable lives they led and the loved ones left behind. We have taken great pains, even as we did to secure and encode your emails, to assure that the site cannot be used to steal identities for those of you who fret about such things.

Recently we began replicating our memorial page to expand our efforts to Facebook because of its convenience. Imagine our surprise at the hue and cry this engendered about identity theft and other security concerns ignoring the fact that while the SSDI database was used, social security numbers were deleted. Despite quite a bit of support from our FB classmates directory group, the stridency of the objections raised made us decide that simply providing links and news via this blog was going to have to be sufficient. Members of our class have had from the beginning, a heightened sense of insecurity regarding their cyber presence. Believe me when I say that this is definitely an East Coast phenomenon. So whenever there is something to note, Linda and I will get the news out on FB but the details will be available via links to our website. That way no one will be reminded of the uncomfortable truth that everyday, we get a little bit older and a little bit slower (apologies to the Fab Four) unnecessarily but inquiring minds will still be able to get their class news.

Remember, that we are but a humble clearing house. While we still do find out about classmates passing directly from Vandermay in Wayne and other local NJ funeral homes and other sources, we also rely upon your participation as you travel hither and thither. Again, belated thanks to Marlene Zachok Capraro for letting us know about Pat Schwartz, and Franny Minervini's brother Rick, on the passing of Suzi Loper Lawrence. We also recorded the relatively recent passing of Lynn Tonnesen White. Obits at (http://www.waynevalley67.net/html/inmemoriam.html).

And here's a strange one that highlights human fallibility (i.e., ours). We were under the mistaken impression that Bernice Alexander passed back in 1997. Turns out she lived another 20 years of what looks to have been a great life. Sometimes I'm happy to be wrong.

"So that's all I have to say about that." Forrest Gump

The Way It All Started

For those of you who follow this poor messenger, you all know that this all began as an effort to find everyone with whom we went to school. You also know that for a while, we were finding the so-called "lost" people left and right, and as a matter of course, finding out sadly that many of our number had passed away.

Over the years as we have been working at this, others of us who have had the time or inclination have lent a hand, making the increasingly more difficult search a little easier to take. There are only so many dead ends you explore before you get a little discouraged.

Marlene Zachok Capraro sent me a note the other day that she had found Pat Schwartz Mussen. Sadly it was through the following obituary:

Keeseville - Patricia E. Mussen, 65, of Highlands Road, Keeseville, passed away unexpectedly, Wednesday, August 13, 2014 at the Good Samaritan Hospital in Suffern, NY.

She was born in Passaic, NJ, July 14, 1949, the daughter of Albert G. and Patricia A. (Salmon) Schwartz.

Pat, who always carried a book, was a kind-hearted person that touched everyone she knew. Always putting her family's needs ahead of her own, she took joy in their happiness. Pat's hobby was showing her Great Danes, finishing several Champions and Grand Champions. Some of her closest friends were made through shows.

Pat is survived by her husband of 43 years, Frank Mussen; son Franklin; daughters Nanci (Smith) and Sarah (Case), along with their significant others; grandchildren Zachary, Emileigh, and Abbigail (Smith); mother Patricia A. Schwartz; sisters Pamela Mackey and Nancy DiMeo, and their families. 

It is these discoveries that I hope can convince you to attend our 50th next year. Bob Shepherd and the committee and the suggestions of many classmates have resulted in what looks to be a very different reunion this time round.

For one, we are in a hotel so lodging and festivities are all in one location. We will no longer be subsidizing alcohol, and will be eating a meal. I hope that there is a program of some sort as well.

Not the least of my concerns is that we continue to lose friends to the ravages of time. So I heartily encourage friends in the Midwest and on the West Coast to consider coming to this one, the Big One. To be absolutely and harshly honest, this may be the last opportunity for you to see your friends and to renew old memories. Unfortunately, Father Time is unforgiving and unrelenting.

We buried a classmate of Linda's yesterday, a friend of 60 years, someone who attended every Reitz High School reunion. Her class lost 5 classmates this year. You only have to visit our Wayne Valley 67 Class Directory website and look at the In Memoriam page to realize the sad truth: Time cares not where you went to school, but only how long are spun the threads of Fate, a longer length for which mere mortals can only hope.

Well, on that cheery note, greetings from Southern Indiana. Till next time, it's Milton

School teaching; school reunions; school chums

It seems that the holidays have flown by, leaving behind a winter in which I received no further bad news and got to view class grand babies on FB in wonderful profusion. So now we look forward to a rather late Spring here in southern Indiana.

It's been a strange 2016 so far. Early in January, I got the call from the school district where I sub from time to time asking if I could do a two week hitch for a language arts teacher. Sure, I said. A few hours later, the hitch turned out to be for the entire semester. Well, how could I say no?

So back to school on a full time basis. Left to my own devices, I have been given a wide latitude as to subject matter as long as it fit into the most broad Common Core guidelines. I must admit I have given the kiddos a workout. It has been both gratifying and at the same time disturbing. It still gives me chills to see a light go on in a kid's eyes. It dismays me when I meet a kid for whom the educational process is already shut down in the 6th grade. I think of the remarkable junior high education I received and I am filled with regret that a kid will never experience that.

The district here is one of the most tech filled I have encountered and I have found it to be a powerfully mixed blessing. On the one hand, distribution of content has been made really easy; on the other the learning process is somehow dulled by passivity and what I have come to call the "feed me" syndrome, like little birds in the nest that sit there and wait to be fed. They don't have to think, they don't have to move, they just wait to have a morsel dropped down their craw. In some cases, the students have overcome this condition and are striving to see what else is out there. In the vast majority of cases, they just wait to be fed.

So while the school year winds down to one last big push, and standardized testing is almost finished, I hear rumblings from Wayne. This time, I regard Wayne as a visitor, and not a proxy resident. My folks are in McLean, VA. The only reason I have to return to Wayne area is the 50th Reunion. Bob Shepherd is chairing the effort this time and has set a date and some plans for the event already somewhat influenced to a spirited Facebook discussion this past October,

What I have been able to glean so far, and yes I have compared my notes to Linda's (she is definitely my FB presence as much as me) the event is set for May 7 at the Sheraton Tara in Parsippany. Tara compares favorably to the old HoJo (now LaQuinta, but always HoJo to me) like a Cadillac to a Rent-a-Wreck. Plus the prospect of $99 rooms is quite a deal that Shep has managed to wrangle for us too. Cash bar, so no one has to subsidize alcohol consumption without an absolute and unnecessary prohibition and the rooms on-site provide a non driving place to bunk down too.

A catered buffet meal is in the offing as well, although I am as yet unaware of the menu. We are, after all, still over a year off, but Shep is truly trying to change things up and I'm always up for change.

So start making your plans if you can. It's the big FIVE OH. As experience has shown us, time is fleeting. The Fates have been busy lately, and I for one am not about to tempt them. And, I will report any additional information as we find out about it.

Similarly, I am hoping that my Anthony Wayne group will be coming so we can get together sometime over the Reunion weekend and if everything works out right, break bread with the Piagets. Plenty of time to work all this out too.

Time to plan out my next teaching unit. I'll bet these kiddies have never had to make a speech..........Heh Heh Heh........

Today, I am reeling. I have come to expect bad news in small doses, but this week alone I have had to report the loss of two classmates.

First, I received an obituary photo from Lynn Holland Cohen for Ronda Roby Ellin. Ronda was one of those classmates who I remember passing in the hall clutching a pile of books. I don't think I ever passed a single word with her and yet still feel her loss as the group of all of us gets incrementally smaller. I dutifully report to Facebook (actually, Linda did, after I forwarded the obit to her as I was subbing in the local Junior High School at the time. I sub to stay out of Linda's hair a couple days a week, and because I enjoy tormenting the kiddoes with knowledge, and because I hate subs who are just babysitters).

Just a few days later, I received an email from Peter Dunne of the class of '62 reporting the passing of Bill Altier out in Sheridan WY. When I first began the task of finding everyone in the class, I ferretted out Bill and with a phone number in hand, called him and had an interesting conversation with him about people we remembered in common. I filled him in as best I could, and asked him if I could get him to attend our 45th reunion. He declined, and we parted with his final words to me, "Talk to ya in 5". I guess I won't get that chance. I've had too many of those. I am so grateful to have had the chance to talk to these folks again, but it just makes their loss more intense and regretful.

So I went to the website to lengthen the memorial page by two entries and create the black border around their listing photos and gray out the backgrounds.

As I perform these internet duties, I wonder to myself why I am doing this at all, why maintaining this site is important to me. It is important. It is important not just because I believe in finishing what I started; not just because now I have the time to do it; but because it needs to be done. There has to be someplace on this earth to remember that in 1967, we all left a place that became part of who we were to become. There has to be a place to help us remember all those with whom we shared a common experience. I fully understand that there are some for whom it was not a great experience, but for the majority of us, it shaped us gently and kindly and provided memories that we still think back on fondly.

So as long as my faculties permit, I'll be here reporting on our class. I appreciate you all seeing fit to send me the news. Know that I will report it faithfully and as quickly as life permits.

BTW, don't worry about the glitches on the site. I'm working on it! It's just computer stuff. It never works right all the time. It's Entropy. If not maintained, things go wrong. Talk to you all soon.

Nothing Like a Move to Unearth Lost Memories

As I've mentioned, my folks have relocated from the old homestead in Wayne to McLean VA, and the inevitable downsizing leaves a trail of debris behind. Never one to throw anything away, I made sure that I ended up with a huge box of slides taken during family trips to Florida before the Interstate System (ah, the Boston Post Road and US 1 from Maine to the Florida Keys), their 10 year relocation to Taiwan in the late 60's at the behest of American Cyanamid, and numerous other little vacations to here and there.

So I sat myself down to take a look at the slides, many of which I actually took with my Kowa SLR purchased while a student at Anthony Wayne JHS from Two Guys, and the Nikkormat I got in Japan on my way to Taiwan (again on Cyanamid's dime). Obviously someone else took the photos of the adolescent me that appeared here and there among the other images. Yes, many memories were jogged out of that landfill I call a brain both good and not so good.  

Chris Van Denburgh at peace
with nature and himself

One slide in particular was a slice of reality I had forgotten completely.  It was a picture I took of Chris Van Denburgh. Chris and I hung out together a lot in high school, especially so after graduation that summer before we all headed off to school. We'd pack ourselves into that VW bug that Chris called transportation (his family was always a VW family), and he always managed to stow fishing gear somewhere. I wasn't much for fishing but he'd fish and I'd sit on the shore or bank or wherever we ended up and talk for hours. I think that the time he spent fishing were perhaps the only time he was really content. The summer ended and we went our separate ways, not to see each other for over a year. 

The Chris that showed up at my dorm room in New Haven was nearly unrecognizable. He'd lost an eye from a splinter that flew up during a solo camping expedition but he'd also lost himself as well. We talked for a long time that evening but by the time he finally left, I realized that he was in need of more professional help than a friend could offer. I didn't really know who to contact about his disturbing visit, and in the end, did nothing but worry about what might happen. And it did, and is something about which I will always feel guilty.

I wrote this in July and just realized that I never posted it. So here it belatedly is.