Update 8-25-08

Hi,

Athletes gone.  Politicians wanting our attention.  So here's something apolitical for distraction:
   
    From Stu Borman:  I would guess that's me instead of Mike Floyd in Barnet Kellman's photo of Miss Patterson, although I do see a resemblance of me to Mike.  By the way, and with no offense meant, I couldn't help but notice that Miss Patterson's legs don't look bad in the photo, but I don't care for her hairdo.  Also, the expression on her face makes it look like she's saying to herself, "I can't believe I have to do this for a living."  Again, sorry if you're reading this, Miss Patterson.
   
    From Jay Berliner:  Please thank Barnet Kellman for the look into the past.  The photo does look like me, but what I can see looks a little grainy.  I will try to print it, put it under one of my microscopes, and get a better look.  If it really is me, as I think it is, I must be getting detention for not doing my homework.
        Best regards to all.
   
    From Judy Hartstone:  You may be confusing Miss Nancy Patterson with Miss Sheila Stark, who was my fifth grade teacher at Forest and definitely no Dolores Stein.
   
    From Betsy Fels Pottruck:  I'm pretty sure that Miss Patterson's married name was Nancy Stalb.  Also, I met her once in A&S in Hempstead, long after I graduated from high school, and -- believe it or not -- she wasn't as tall as I'd remembered.

    From Jerry Bittman:  Oh, yes -- tall, young, nice-looking Miss Nancy Patterson.  I couldn't figure out at the time why Miss Patterson would punish only her male students and make them stay late.  Never once did she keep a female student after class.  Though the funniest thing that happened in her class involved Artie Halprin.  She kicked Artie out of class one day, and, if you remember, our classroom faced the playground.  The next thing we all saw was Artie playing basketball with an invisible ball.  It was hysterical.
        Speaking of Artie -- hey, Art, I'll be in Denver the week of September 16th.  We should try to get together, schedules permitting.  I know I have one night to myself because my daughter and her boyfriend are going to a Rockies' game.  Another night, I'll be seeing my cousin, Ivy Hackett. Yes, she's one of Buddy's daughters.  The third night, I'll be with a past girlfriend, Peggy.  Still, that leaves us four potential evenings.

    On a different subject, from Ronnie Churnin DeLuca:  I will shake the cobwebs out of my head about that Wetson's location.  But at least I did know that Ed’s Tropical Fish was in Lynbrook

    No need to worry, Ronnie, as quickly explained by Bernie Scheidt:  There were two Wetson's.  The original one was on Astor Place.  The one on Rockaway Avenue came later.  Then that became a Roy Rodgers, and then a Nathan's, though I'm not positive of the order.  I also don't know what's there now.  But everyone's memories are still intact.
   
    More burger history from Steve Goozeit:  I was a counterman at Wetson’s in the summer of 1964, having been promoted from “bun man” after only a week-or-two.  That was great, but unfortunately, it prevented me from working side-by-side with the high-ranking, highly paid -- $1.35 per hour -- grill man.
        I was now dealing with customers, under the supervision of hard-driving Nick, the store’s manager.  He was still reeling from resistance to the then-recent change from thick to thin French fries, but he still managed to keep an eye on all of us.
        Burgers were wrapped in paper and piled in a large bin facing the front of the store.  Double burgers were “made” by the countermen, who would open two burgers, move the meat from one to the other -- barehanded, of course -- and place the two remaining bun halves on the side.  Of course, when we absentmindedly re-wrapped the two empty bun halves, a customer who bought them would return to us asking, “Where’s the beef?”
        When the store was very busy, Nick would yell to us, “Let’s move the line, boyz!”
        And, finally, when I was a nubie counterman determined to provide superior customer service, I was asked to provide a burger that was cooked medium rare.  At a loss, I asked Nick where medium rare burgers were kept, and, without a moment’s hesitation, he pointed at the immense pile of burgers and said, “They’re in the front.”
        Happy days.
   
    And another bit of minutae about Wetson's from Donald Faber:  The Wetinson family lived in Woodmere, and the first manager of the Valley Stream branch of the chain was the founder's son, Earl Wetson.  Following the sale of the Wetson's chain -- and I'm sure the competition of McDonald's finally entering the New York market in late 60s had no some small impact on Wetson's at the time -- Earl became the owner of the hipper-than-thou, Paris-inspired club, "Le Drugstore" on Lexington Avenue in New York City.  That was during the 1970s.  However, Earl's real fifteen minutes of fame came when he saw Margaux Hemingway in the Plaza Hotel, helped her to kick off her huge modelling career, and married her, following a whirlwind courtship.
   
    A quick bit of business from Claire Brush Reinhardt:  Just a reminder that we need to hear from you before we can commit to making plans for the October Homecoming celebration.  We won't be able to go ahead with the planning until we know if enough alumni will be attending to make it worth the effort.  The Alumni Association will meet on September 4th to determine if there has been enough interest expressed, so if you think you might be attending Homecoming, we need to know before September 4th.  Please let me know at:  reino@optonline.net   Thanks.
   
    Finally, some thoughts from Robert Fiveson:  Okay, I know jokes are not the thing in this newsletter, as we tend to confine ourselves to walks down memory lane, grandparent notices, and the occasional obituary.  But perhaps this funny senior joke will resonate as a harbinger of things to come:
        An 80-year-old man goes for a physical.  All his tests come back normal, and his doctor says, "Everything looks great.  How are you doing mentally and emotionally?  Are you at peace with God?"
        The old guy replies, "God and I are tight.  He knows I have poor eyesight, so he's fixed it so when I get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, POOF! the light goes on.  Then, when I'm done, POOF! the light goes off."
        "That's incredible," the doc says, though a little later, he has reason to call the old guy's wife.  "Your husband's doing fine," he assures her, "but I have to admit I'm in awe of his relationship with God.  Is it really true that when he gets up at night, POOF! the light in the bathroom goes on?  And when he's done, POOF! the light goes off?
        "Oh, God!" the old guy's wife exclaims. "He's peeing in the refrigerator again."