Update 6-19-07

Hi,

Almost summer and the letter writing always eases off as people have more distracting things to do.  Informal news of people traveling to Europe, Asia, and Hawaii.  Notes from Barbara Blitfield Pech, a correction from Andrea Schwartz Neenan, a discovery from Peter Rosen, a repeated party reminder, and some backlogged recollections from the April Alumni Association bulletin:
   
    From Barbara:  While I'm on my favorite subject of food, does anyone remember or know anything about the demise of my still personal favorite, never topped, best ever, Arnold Brick Oven Bakers' chocolate cookies?  I do remember my mom buying them in them in the little A&P in Gibson, prior to 1958, before our move to Green Acres and our grocery shopping expeditions to First National next to Schluker’s.  We went there for the shopping cart to conveyor belt to car service
        If I recall, the Brick Oven chocolate cookies were packaged in a bag similar to the Pepperidge Farm cookie bags of today.  I also recall oatmeal raisin and lemon cookies in the product line and in my belly.  I know that once a new subject is brought to the table, someone always comes through with great feedback, no pun intended, and I look forward to that.
   
    And from Barbara:  Last night, just after 9:30, my motion detector security light flashed on from the rear wall of my house, illuminating my back patio area.  As it is usually set off by a stray cat or some other small Florida four-legged night creature, I didn't intend to pay any more attention than usual, but, as the strays have been recently rounded up by the ASPCA or whoever does that, out of sheer curiosity, I was just about to peek out, when I heard a smash, crash, and very human painful yelp.
        Apparently someone had been staking out me or my house, as two of my neighbors just coming home saw a husky white male wearing a stocking cap, perhaps spooked by my lights and my at-home status, attempting to escape by jumping my fence after climbing on a cheap plastic lawn chair.  It gave way under his weight and dropped him onto a cactus.  He was still able to get over the fence but landed badly on his foot and was seen dragging his very injured self across the common area.  The police were called and responded within ten minutes, which in itself is amazing.  I am okay physically and mostly okay mentally, but I did want to keep you in the so to speak circle of awareness as I was completely unaware that the thief  was even there until the security light alert.  My doors and windows are always locked, but it's just a good time to remind everyone that we are all the other person that these things do happen to, at least once and hopefully one time only.  I am now looking over my shoulder and not assuming anything.  I hope you will be, too.
   
    [Rich -- To which I replied:  Yikes.  Glad you're okay.  Be careful.]
   
    And from Barbara:  My only salvation is that the motion detector light never goes on, so I can't be concerned that the thief has been here before.  Then again, if he was here to break in, he is a complete moron.  I am out all day, so why show up at night?  And if he was here for me -- now that's a big yikes.  I'm hot for sixty in a very tepid way, so why would he be interested?  The questions are endless.  I just hope the incident is ended.
   
    More ordinarily, from Andrea:  Thanks for the plug for our reunion, although you spelled my last name wrong.  But you did get it right in the more important e-mail address.
   
    [Rich -- To which I replied:  There's a dumb story as to why your name accidentally got spelled wrong, and it has to do with copying, pasting, and warring word processing software.  I had to retype that section of the newsletter a half-dozen times because it kept shifting to a 12 point font.  Obviously, on the last attempt I lost track of how to spell your name.  Sorry.  I'll correct it in next week's plug.  Meanwhile, I'm glad I got the e-mail address right.]
   
    The now-correctly-spelled class of '67 reunion reminder:  The 40th reunion of the class of '67 will be held on Saturday, July 28, 2007, at the Huntington Hilton Hotel in Melville, New York.  Everyone is welcome.  For further information, please contact Andrea Schwartz Neenan at:  aneenan@tampabay.rr.com
   
    Another repeated reminder:  The Evening with Booker Gibson at the Irish Coffee Pub in East Islip, New York, will be on Wednesday, August 1, 2007.  It will start around 6:15 though Booker does not begin to play until 7:00.  To make a reservation, please contact Claire Brush Reinhardt at:  reino@optonline.net
   
    From Peter:  It appears that Bernie Scheidt and I are now fellow Georgians.  Now, we can have a mini-reunion here.  I just wish I still had my great white-with-black-trim AZA sweater to wear.
   
    [Rich -- Maybe the reactivated AZA will reissue them.]
   
    Finally, from the April Alumni Association bulletin, which many of you already get and the rest can get for a comparatively tiny yearly or lifetime fee, two recollections.  The first is from Emily Kleinman Schreiber:
        On a Monday back in 2003, the day after my class of '61 had its Big Birthday Bash, I went on a hike along the Nissequogue River with a group from Farmingdale University.  Being a photographer, I stopped many times to capture those special things along the way, though, no, I didn't hold up the group since some people were moving along kind of slowly.  I kept noticing one woman.  I knew that I had seen her face before, but I just couldn't place it.  It wasn't until the end of the hike that I approached her and asked, "How do I know you?"  We scanned our brains and settled on both of us being at Hofstra University and South at the same time.  She was Helen Shellard, class of '61 -- my class!  I told her that she had just missed our Big Birthday Bash, and I got her e-mail address.  She has sent me wonderful e-cards whenever there's a holiday, and I appreciate them, but she's never come to any of our reunions.  That's not the end of the story though.  In the fall of this year, I ventured into New York City to see a show, and I stopped at the ladies' room before hitting the pavement.  Out of the corner of my eye, there was Helen again -- this time she was hurrying out to wherever she was going.  I e-mailed her, to be sure the corner of my eye was correct, and it was!
   
    Next, from Joanne Shapiro Polner:  Today, when I stepped into the bus for a chartered trip to New York City to go to two art exhibitions along with almost forty unfamiliar people, I saw an empty seat on the aisle and asked if it was taken.  The woman at the window said, "No."
        I said, "I'd like to sit here."
        She smiled and said, "Sure."
        As we drove, we talked.  Dee lives three towns away from me -- we're all local residents of Bergen County, New Jersey, near Ridgewood -- but I had never met her on one of these excursions before.  She said it was only her second time on a trip like this.
        She was attractive, her hair was simple, neatly pulled back, and she wore a turtle neck top with her black suit.  She was pleasant and friendly.  We chatted about the museums we'd be in, we talked about places in New York City we liked to go to, and soon we noticed that the bus had finally gotten into Manhattan, pretty far uptown.  As we passed by 148th Street, Dee exclaimed, "I used to live on that street. I have never been here since I moved away when I was twelve."  She said that she had moved to Long Island.
        I said, "I grew up on Long Island.  I lived in Valley Stream."
        She said, "I lived in Valley Stream."
        I said, "I went to South High School."
        She said, "I went there, too."
        Already, I had begun to think:  Whose sister might she be?  Was she in my class?  My brother's class?  "When did you graduate?" I asked.
        "1959," she said.
        I said, "That is my year, too!" and I asked, "What was your maiden name?"
        She said, "Dal-bo."
        I said, "Deanne!  You're Deanne Dal-bo!  We were in the same class!"
        The last time I think I ever saw her before today was in June 1959, at graduation, almost forty-eight years ago.  Now, what do you think of the luck of taking a seat next to a former high school classmate?  If I had sat in a different seat, I may never have met her at all.
        All day, we were astonished about our discovery.  We spent time together at lunch, and were very conversational on the bus going home:  "Do you remember Joe...?"  "How about...?"
        "I've been friends with Linda S. all these years," she said.
        "I remember Linda," I said.  "I saw her at one of the alumni functions."
        We pulled up more names and more memories.  Our warm acceptance of each other and our intent to get together, yearbook in hand, enlivens my evening as I write this truly fabulous reunion story.  If you want to contact Deanne Dal-bo or me, please write to me.