Update 9-22-09

Hi,

Happy New Year, to those who celebrate.  Saturday night, I was in a forest-edged amphitheater in the Los Angeles hills, listening to Billy Valentine sing.  Very different from my memories of Cantor Mann.
   
    Closer to Earth, from Amy Miller:  Can you pass this on to Eric Hilton?  I tried to reach him by way of his web site, but the e-mail function didn't work.
        I recently had all my black-and-white negatives scanned onto discs by www.digmypics.com.  They did a very good job, and it wasn't too costly.
   
    And from Eric Hilton:  Robert Fiveson truly lives an interesting life.  If he's not flying his gyrocopter over croc-infested rivers, he's chasing down “no-goodnicks,” on foot, in third world countries.  Kind of like Indiana Fiveson.
        That reminded me of a similar incident that happened to me in the Navy.  It was 1968, and I was sitting at a bistro in Hong Kong after a long evening of drinking.  All of a sudden, two large, ugly, Asian women came running by and grabbed something from my pocket.  I thought it was my wallet or my Rolex watch they were after, but it turned out they just wanted their panties back from the previous night.
        Happened again in 1970, in the Hewlett bowling alley.  What can we learn from this story?
        I also wanted to say that one of my friends -- our fellow South graduate, class of '72, and my brother Ed’s best friend  -- James Martin Kelley, has been living and acting in Hollywood for the last ten years.  Besides playing Andy Sipowitz’s boss in the final episodes of NYPD Blue, he will be on CSI:NY episodes this Wednesday night, 9/16, and on Saturday, 10/17, as Cliff Angle.  If you're interested, you can see his resume online at: www.imdb.com/name/nm0446457/  and you can also look at his demo reel online at: www.imdb.com/name/nm0446457/   I remember shooting his wedding thirty years ago.
        To Amy Miller:  It’s great that your dad left you with some terrific memories and a useful therapy tool.  I find photography wonderful therapy while I am out shooting.  My dad also taught me photography.  When I was a little kid, my dad had a darkroom in the basement, and he would have me sit down next to him and watch in the red lights as the prints would magically appear in his developing trays.  Then, I would think to myself, "This is boring" and wonder how much longer I'd have to smell the chemicals and my dad's cigars, which he smoked in the darkroom because my mother would yell at him for smoking in the house.  It wasn't until the Navy and photography school in New York City that I became addicted to this wonderful art form.  After that, I worked for Phil Dorin’s dad at Green Acres Photographers, and he taught me many things.  Also, while working there, I met a girl from my South High romantic past -- Irene, class of '67 or '68.  She walked into the store, back into my heart, and then out of my life again.  Payback is a bitch.
   
    From Hy Rosov:  Those people interested in seeing some of my award-winning sculptures will find photos of them on my Facebook page.
   
    From Paulinda Schimmel, by way of Facebook:  The 2009 Los Angeles Ovarian Cancer Coalition Walk / Run was a huge success.  The team sponsored in memory of my daughter Robin numbered over fifty people!
   
    [Rich -- Congratulations, Paulinda.  That's a wonderful honor.]

    From Judy Hartstone:  I am saddened by the death of Mary Travers.  In the early 60s, I pestered my folks for a guitar and lessons, hoping against hope that I, devoid of any musical talent or ability, could somehow will myself to replicate the sounds she created.  Alas, all I could manage to duplicate was the hairstyle.
        Mary was a true songbird and decent human being, and her many voices -- lyrical and humanitarian -- will be sorely missed.  She will forever be part of that magical era of the 1960s.
   
    Robert Fiveson, recovering from his recent adventures, sent us an old joke to share.
   
    I wrote Robert:  Where do you keep finding these jokes?  My uncles used to tell them while playing Pinochle in Jackson Heights in the late 1950s.
   
    Robert wrote back:  That explains that voice in my head -- I'm channeling your uncle.
   
    And I wrote:  There were several of them, notably, Sy and Lester.  And their sons -- Bob, Jeff, and David -- are still telling the same jokes.  And their sons' sons...
   
    Robert replied with the punch line of another old joke.
   
    In exchange for Robert's vintage humor, some more recent -- if inadvertent -- material:
   
    A friend of mine, who really should know better, just referred to the "Ivory League colleges."  It's a nice image, but...
   
    And another friend, who's temporarily, but completely, lost her voice wrote:
        I went into the Post Office this morning and handed the clerk a note which read:  "I have laryngitis -- I can't talk."
        The postal worker read the note and then shouted, "CAN YOU READ LIPS?"
        I pointed to my ear and smiled, hoping to indicate that I could hear.
        The postal worker again shouted, "CAN YOU READ LIPS?"
        I patiently wrote on the back of my note:  "I can hear.  I just can't talk."
        The postal worker shouted again, "BUT CAN YOU READ LIPS!"
        I politely shook my head "No," and then pointed to what I'd written on the back of my note:  "I can hear.  I just can't talk."
        The postal worker turned to a nearby postal worker and said, "I don't know what to do.  I don't think she can read lips."
        I nicely added to my previous note," I can hear you just fine.  I just need to insure this package."
        The postal worker nodded and then silently over-enunciated, "O - K."
   
    The South '65 e-mail addresses:  reunionclass65.blogspot.com
   
    The South '65 photo site:  picasaweb.google.com/SouthHS65
   
   
    Rich