Update 3-17-09

Hi,

Happy St. Patrick's Day, of course.

From Robert Fiveson:  Toni Rea, we love you, and I personally salute you as a pioneer.  Joanne Shapiro Polner, as I read your words, I heard our anthem in the background -- Forever Young!
        Stu Borman, I suggest that the photo site be selected by ease of operation, assuming we would all be submitting the photos ourselves.  If, on the other hand, you are doing the posting for us, Stu, then it should be to your convenience.  I know I have a few photos I would like to contribute.
        Fortunoff's holds a curious place in my history as it represents a fork in the path of my life.  Just out of South, I went through a series of interviews for a position as an apprentice jeweler at Fortunoff's.  I made it all the way through the process and was their candidate, when they asked me what my draft status was.  This was because they didn't want to spend the time and money training me if I was just going to be drafted.  I responded that I didn't think I could be drafted because I came from Canada.  They suggested I find out for sure, and, oops, Pandora's box was about to be opened.
        I found out that I not only was considered an illegal in the US of A -- and was asked to leave, though I declined -- but I also discovered that I was a year late for registering for the draft.  That, in the time of the lottery system, put me right to the front of the %$#x&#!!! line!  The rest of the story is best described over a few bourbons, but suffice it to say, I drew on my acting skills, and -- when finally in front of the Army shrink -- I turned into Charles Manson's mentor.  I had to do this three different times.  Am I proud that I didn't serve?  No, I'm deeply ashamed because of all the young men and women who died and I didn't.  But I am proud that I had convictions.  My time to serve came later, in a much more interesting form which continues intermittently even today.  'Nuff said.  Fortunoffs... huh.
   
    From Eric Hilton:  After the Boca mini-reunion, I kept in touch with Arlene Ainbinder Lynn.  When I told her I had to come north to Valley Stream for a funeral, she said she would try to get a bunch of people together.  Wanting this to be the most special evening, I emptied my retirement money, my 401k, and whatever I had left from babysitting some spoiled, snot-dripping North Woodmere kid when I was in South.  That came up with the entire amount of $16.82.  But I was going to blow it all on one glorious, intimate evening at Vincent’s Pizza.
        Arlene and I arrived first to get tables.  Along came Emily Kleinman Schreiber, and Robin Feit Baker.  Then strutting down the hallway was Nancy Panzarino Geraldi -- a very soft-spoken, laid back girl, who once threatened to kick the shit out of me if I didn’t attend a previous reunion.  So... I went.  Coming up at the rear was Danny Stellebotte, a guy who grew up in Valley Stream, has his engineering degree, but couldn’t find his way to Lynbrook without a GPS and my daughter giving him directions on the phone.
        The chemistry that night was magic, along with much wine, pizza, salads, and more wine.  Then the conversations and lusty tales got quite intimate as we revealed secret romances.  Stories that happen at Vincent’s stay at Vincent’s, but I can tell you that Danny and I were not the only sluts at that table.  There were a lot of decadent desserts being finger-fed to one another very seductively -- and out in the open to show the younger people how we class of '65-'66 and other South graduates still have so much life and love to give.  Robin Feit had a birthday cake that she proceeded to bend over, letting her plunging neckline display the smoothest, natural skin of a nineteen-year-old, and then slowly and seductively, she blew the candles out.  Emily was trying to maintain a semi-serious composure, but after we force-fed her more wine and chocolate, her softer, also seductive side began taking over.  We all had great stories, developed incredible bonding, and created a longing to meet again very soon.  It truly was an extraordinary intimate affair -- even without any bodily fluids exchanged -- far more than anything I have been to in a long time.  Before leaving, we all hugged and kissed -- no tongue, except Danny and me -- just kidding.  Afterward, I took Arlene across the street to say hello to a friend who owns The Beanery in Lynbrook.  Graciously, Brian bought us some Baileys Irish Cream, and we proceeded to close the place down, still talking about growing up at South.  What started as a sad, draining memorial trip to New York turned out to be a wonderful, uplifting time of reconnecting with special friends.  I almost can’t wait until another funeral, so we can reconnect soon
        Also, when my daughter Robyn met Robin Feit, my daughter asked how old Robin was going to be.  When I told her Robin was almost my age, my daughter said, "No way!."  She thought Robin was in her mid-to-late 40s.
        I wish I looked like Robin.  Sort of.  Well, maybe.  But just for a little while.
   
    From Emily Kleinman Schreiber:  I have two comments on last week's newsletter:  First, the description Toni Rea wrote about her "study" is a carbon copy of what I'd write about my office/workroom/nostalgia room/junk collector's room.  I feel so good that I'm not alone.  As I've mentioned here before, in 2007 -- on September 9th -- my clutter and I made the front page of Newsday's Act Two section. It was an article titled "Stuff Happens," and they included a poem I wrote, "File Don't Pile," that I'll share with you now.

        A sign on the wall
        A thought on my mind
        A goal to accomplish
        But oh so difficult to achieve.
        The mail arrives
        The articles I pull
        The letters to answer
        Grow into a mountain to be ascended.
        Will the moment arrive?
        Will I ever find the time?
        Will I succeed in my quest to dump the whole pile
        (Which is outdated, over-rated, & too contemplated)
        Into the proverbial circular file?

        My second comment is that when the six of us met at Vincent's, we had a great time:  Hysterical conversation, even some "true confessions" that I'll never tell, and the pleasure of meeting Eric's grandchild and daughter.  Eric's writing always makes me smile, so I was happy to finally meet him.  I think that's all for now.  Enjoy your day!
   
    [Rich -- Emily also notes that speakers are still needed for South's Career Day on March 24th.  For information about that or to be added to the mailing list for the Alumni Association bulletin, please write Emily at:  cre8em@aol.com.
   
    From Jay Tuerk:  I was looking at the e-mail addresses for everyone on the class blog, and I noticed that mine needs a correction.  My e-mail address is now:  jay.tuerk@gmail.com   Thanks.
        Also, Robert Fiveson and I are still planning to fly the plane I am having built in Dallas from there to our new hometown of Panama City, Panama.  It's going to be an unbelievable adventure with no time constraints.  We are filming the trip, and Robert is going to write down the adventure.  Working title:  "Two Loose Cannons," which seems quite appropriate.  Any pilots out there or want-to-be pilots who are interested in our aircraft, please e-mail me for information.
   
    [Rich -- Yep, it's probably past time for me to crosscheck all this year's updated e-mail addresses and post corrections on the blog.  I just can't quite get to it yet.  But thanks for reminding me.]
   
    From Barnet Kellman:  About Stu Borman's new photo site -- I agree with Stu that our collection could grow well beyond 200 pictures.
   
    Three more of those linked letters.  First, an explanation from Barbara Blitfield Pech:  Funny story about my recent Facebook search for Valley Stream South.  The name Ellen Rothstein Grossman, class of '66, came up on an alumni site of a mutual Florida friend.  Who-da-thunk that there really is a small world still out there.  Long story short:  Ellen is happy to reconnect with us big kids and with anyone from her class of '66, so please add her to the weekly update mailing list.  Ellen lives in North Miami, her sister Pam -- class of 64? -- is in New York, and they have a brother, whose information is in an earlier e-mail.
   
    The first letter from Barbara to Ellen:  There are a lot of "kids' from the class of '66 in South Florida, and they do get together often.  I attended all of the '65 reunions, have re-met old friends, and have made many, many new friends who I never spoke a word to at Valley Stream South.  Times change, we grow and outgrow our former selves, opinions and attitudes.
        By the way, as a former Beth David member, I am sure you will remember my dear friend, prom date, and superstar life friend, Paul Zegler.  He is well, living in California, and after a spell of bad health, is looking "hot."
   
    [Rich -- Paul's also singing and dancing almost nightly in Threepenny Opera, if you happen to be in Los Angeles.]
   
    Then from Ellen back:  Barbara, congratulations on surviving cancer.  I love good news, and there's so much bad news going around.  Please share my e-mail address with your class as I'm curious to see who is here in Florida.  Thanks.  larembrant@bellsouth.net
   
    [Rich -- another poem of the household variety, this one not from someone at South, but from Gabriel Berghouse, the husband of one of my friends.]
   
        Oh Chocolate, chocolate.
        You are such a delight.  Your taste is sweet and
        your fragrant aroma arises seductively from my warm dryer.
        Although you hid well in my clothes, you are not like the others.  Gum and beach tar are stubborn.
        Their stains do not easily depart from my fabric or the surface of the dryer.
        But you are kind, you spared my wife's shirt and
        with a little scrubbing, I am sure that I can restore the full luster of my
        old but wearable attire.
   
    Finally, something that's going around the Internet and was sent to me by one of my more calculating friends:  At five minutes and six seconds after 4:00 AM on the eighth of July this year, the time and date will be 04:05:06 07/08/09.  This will never happen again.
   
    [Rich -- Uh... won't it happen again that day at 4:00 PM?]
   
    The South '65 blog:  reunionclass65.blogspot.com
   
   
    Rich