Update 2-12-08

Hi,

Some Robert Fiveson news and some school news.  First, about and from Robert:
   
    From Janice Williams Teeuwe:  I sure would like to live where Robert Fiveson lives.  I am a true adventurer at heart, but I did not marry the right kind of person for that.  That's why I ride a big Harley.  Yes, I can't resist the thrill of it all, and, yes, there is a thrill to riding a Harley.  Anyway, blessings to you all.
   
    Next, from Andy Dolich:
    Fiveson:
    I am looking for a fishing report:
        Dorado
        Pez Gallo
        Yellow Fin
        Sierra
        Pargo
        Marlin
        Sailfish
    Adios.
   
    [Rich -- Third, from me to Robert:  Enjoy paradise.  And send us regular bulletins to make us jealous.  Are you now officially retired, or are you continuing to supervise work from there?  I don't see why you'd want to.]
   
    Robert's answer:  So I go to this really rough-and-tumble bar in a town no tourists go to, where they load the bananas on board the freighters, and I meet Tito, who just happens to be the engineer of the Chiquita Norway, which is docked there and being loaded.  The next day, I pitched Smithsonian a documentary on a very specialized operation of hi-tech bananadom and sea faringinshism.  They have initial interest.
        It's like the scorpion and the turtle -- it's just how I am.
   
    [Rich -- My follow-up question:  You're going to have to explain that one to me.]
   
    Robert's answer:  A scorpion asks for a ride across the lake from a turtle.  The turtle says, "No way -- you will sting me."  The scorpion says, "Why would I do that?  We'd both drown."  So they set out, and, midway, the scorpion strikes.  As they're drowning, the turtle asks the scorpion why he did that, and the scorpion says, "It's how I am!"
   
    Away from scorpions and fables, the South news, unfortunately, starts with something sad.  At any other time, it would bump Robert Fiveson's news down a slot.  But Robert is special.
        The following came from Emily Kleinman Schreiber by way of Scott Muller from Central High School’s Alumni Association:
        Today, we received a letter from Philip Newman telling of the passing of his father Samuel W. Newman on September 21, 2007.  Samuel Newman was Central High's first Spanish teacher, from 1941 to 1955, and South High's first chairperson of its foreign language department, from 1955 until his retirement in 1973.

    [Rich -- Mr. Newman tried very hard to teach me Spanish, for which I was improperly ungrateful.  But I did learn the value and reliability of Wollensack tape recorders, and I bought one as soon as I possibly could.]

    Before we go on to other South news, let's slip in a little Los Angeles information.  From Paul Zegler:  Hi, all.  If you happen to be in Southern California in the next month, please come see me in the stage production of Cabaret in Long Beach.  I play Herr Schultz.
        We open on Friday, February 8th, and close Sunday, March 9th.  Our performances are Thursday, Friday, and Saturday at 8:00 PM, and Sunday at 2:00 PM.  Thursday is industry night.  Your union card will get you in for $15.00.  Otherwise, tickets cost $40.00.
        The show is lots of fun, and I hope to see you there.  Please call me if you have any questions about tickets.  My phone number is:  818-398-4457.  Auf Wiederseh'n.
   
    Back to happier South news:  Emily Kleinman Schreiber is trying to gather as much information about South alumni as she can for the Alumni Association data base.  She'd like to start with people's names and e-mail addresses, so she can e-mail them the quarterly alumni Bulletin.  If you'd like this free bulletin, and, more importantly, if you'd like to help Emily, please e-mail your name to her at: cre8em@aol.com.
   
    Finally, a sample of the kind of stories you'd be getting directly from the Alumni Bulletin instead of waiting for me to excerpt and rerun them.  You'd also be getting these stories in a far spiffier format, with pictures in color.  And it costs nothing.
        Brooklyn Avenue School Celebrates Its 100th Anniversary, by Karin Schade Sofarelli ‘62.

        On September 12th, it was such a pleasure to be able to attend the 100th Year Celebration at Brooklyn Avenue School, not only because it was such a magnificent day in terms of weather, but also because it followed such a dreary day and the sixth anniversary of September 11th.

        How uplifting it was to share with the ever-so-young students this common bond -- Brooklyn Avenue

    School.  As I stood listening to the praises for this magnificent building and its past successful administrators, students, parents, and families, I remembered the wonderful education I had received.  From caring educators, I was instructed in subjects ranging from academics and art to music and physical education.

        One of the traditions that has continued over the many years is the ringing of the school bell.  It is still located in a belfry and attached to a long rope.  One anticipation of becoming a sixth grader was the knowledge that one might have the opportunity to ring the bell for a week, from Monday to Friday at 8:00 AM.  The bell story comes with a history and almost an extinction.  From 1907, when the school was opened, the bell was the first notification of fire, disaster, or emergency, and it continued as a source of notification throughout the years.  With modernization, it was threatened with removal, but the Brooklyn Avenue School’s Parent-Teacher Association came to the rescue and persuaded the school administrators to refurbish the bell's housing.  This story has the makings of a children's book, don't you think?

        At the celebration were members from the class of '34 onward, and members of the community, school board, faculty, Parent-Teacher Association, and administration.  There were also local and state politicians, and, of course, the most important participants, the students.  Classes and members of the orchestra performed in true, wonderful District 24 fashion, and these students, in twenty-or-so years, will remember this clear day with blue skies when people came together to celebrate a small, but mighty building.  It dated to a long, long time ago, but it gave them a firm foundation to perform as responsible, intelligent adults.

        I left at the end of the celebration with an reaffirmation that I had gotten a great start in my education at Brooklyn Avenue School and was ready to tackle South High and anything after that.  Thank you, Mr. Peterson, who taught instrumental music, and Mrs. Dibble, who taught 6th grade.  She, notably, remarked in my second marking period comments that I chewed gum in class too often.  Thanks also, Mr. Grissom, our principal, for helping us ring that superb bell.

        It's funny:  as I write, the brief piece I intended is increasing in length.  As you can probably tell, I have very fond thoughts of my years at Brooklyn Avenue School.  When I looked at my 6th grade picture, I was able to name all of my classmates, first and last names, and this from a person who can't remember what she ate for dinner last night.  We all grew up and moved on, but some of us have returned this week to share our past with our children and grandchildren.  Some of us were even lucky enough to be able to reminisce with former classmates and teachers.  I think we were all very fortunate to have grown up in 1950s and early ‘60s.  It was a wonderful time.

    [Rich -- And Happy Birthday, Mr. Lincoln.]