Update 9-23-08

Hi,

First, from Emily Kleinman Schreiber, an e-mail marked "Very Important."  Hello to all of you.  Please respond to this e-mail.  And class of '58 members, please pass this along to your classmates.  Unfortunately, I simply do not have contact information for every South alumni.  I wish I did.  So the only way for me to contract a lot of people is through you.
        The point is that Homecoming is coming around the bend, and we all hope that you'll be at South on October 18th.  Remember, we're honoring the class of '58 as the first graduating class from South High, but we want all of you to help do that.  This is an important milestone for our '58 alumni.  It's been fifty years since they graduated.  You can be there to help make it special.
        All alumni will meet in the library on the main floor at 11:00 AM.  There will be refreshments -- cold brunch foods and beverages -- and lots of smiles.  We've heard from some of you, but at this time, we need a strong commitment from those of you who are definitely planning to attend.  Therefore, we're asking you to send five dollars in a check made payable to the Valley Stream South High School Alumni Association, and please send your check to me at:  2950 Bellmore Avenue, Bellmore, New York  11710.  And please mail the checks out as soon as possible.  Thanks.
         Of course, we'll be happy to see you if you show up at the last moment at the library door on October 18th, but we'd like to know how much food to order in advance.  I'm sure you all understand.  If you want more information, or if you'd like to volunteer to help, please write me at:  Cre8em@aol.com   Until we see each other, have a great month.
   
    [Rich -- Next, another of those multi party e-mail conversations.]
   
    From Amy Lieberman to me:  Hi.  Can you add Sheryl Kaller, class of '78, to your mailing list for the weekly newsletter?  She remembers you.  She's a friend of your brother's.
             
    From Sheryl Kaller to Amy:  Can you believe it?  I know Rich Eisbrouch.  His brother, David, is still a really good friend of mine.

    From Amy to me:  I didn't even know you had a brother.
   
    From me to Amy:  I have two brothers and a sister:  Mike '76, Dave '78, and Marilyn '68.
   
    From Amy to me:  Wow.  Who knew?
   
    From me to Sheryl:  So the question is, "How do you know Amy, if she's some years younger than you are?"  And are you the friend of Dave's I once played a game of online Scrabble with, pretending to be him?  If so, that's great, because I've been playing Scrabble on that site with two of my friends for about three years now.  In any case, I hope all's well.  I'll tell Dave I just wrote you.
   
    From me to my brother Dave:  I just wrote a friend of yours, Sheryl Kaller.  Turns out she knows my friend Amy.
   
    From my brother Dave back:  Who's Amy?
   
    From me to Dave:  A casting director.  Another friend of Vince Tampio's
   
    From Dave back:  How does Amy Know Sheryl?
   
    From me to Dave:  I don't know.  I'll ask.
   
    From me to Amy:  My brother wants to know how you know Sheryl.  Were you her neighbor or baby sitter?
   
    From Amy to me:  Actually, I just met Sheryl last week.  I've been casting for Reprise here of late, and Sheryl's a good friend of the producer of the company.  She came to our closing night of Once on This Island last weekend, and we got to talking.
        You know, "Where you from?"
        "New York."
        "Where?"
        "Long Island.  Woodstock.  The city."
        "Where on Long Island?"
        "Valley Stream."
        "South or north?"
        "South."
        "Me, too."
        So I went over to the producer's house the next morning, and Sheryl and I just talked and talked.  We had so many mutual teachers and such, although she's slightly younger.  Well, you know -- it's like the weekly update lately, with all the memories.  Wow.
   
    [Rich -- And there you have it.]
   
    From a different Amy -- Amy Miller:  I read the news of South High's colors changing to red and white with great discomfort because I’d wondered why my gray and red quilts weren't gobbled up quickly at the 50th anniversary celebration auction.  Now I know -- no one told me of the color change.
        But it’s a good thing for my marriage that the colors of Cornell -- my husband's alma mater -- are carnelian and white because I always thought that his growing up in Columbus, Ohio -- Ohio State's colors being red and gray -- was a major factor in our attraction.  It's also a good thing we've developed a few other things in common over the years.
        But this is still a crisis for my fabric stash.  All that gray fabric with no place to go now.  Oi vay.
   
    From Zelda White Nichols:  Could you ask Barbara Blitfield Pech if poodle skirts were in style at the time Weejuns were worn, or was that earlier, in the days of saddle shoes?
   
    And from Barbara, on a different subject:  I was just doing a bit of paper sorting and came across a short list of web sites that I must have found interesting enough at one time to look at but never got around to mentioning until now.  I thought you might be interested in passing them on to everyone else:
        www.aginghipsters.com 
        www.boomergirl.com 
        www.eons.com
        www.cranky.com
        This last one is a search engine for boomers.
   
        Finally, a long-awaited joke from Robert Fiveson -- who insists this isn't a joke, but a true story.  But you have to remember that before Robert started living in a banana republic, he was a Hollywood producer:
        Most of you recall that I just showed up one day at South, like a changeling from the city.  What almost all of you never knew was that I was really supposed to be in the class of '67.  I skipped two grades.  Here's how that happened.
        My first-grade teacher, Mrs. Brooks, was having trouble with me.  She finally asked, "What's your problem?"
         I answered, "I'm too smart for the first grade.  My best friend's in third grade, and I'm smarter than he is.  I should be in third grade, too."
         Mrs. Brooks listened to this for a day-or-two but finally had enough and took me to the principal's office.  She explained the situation, and the principal said he'd give me a test.  If I failed to answer any of his questions, I had to go back to the first grade and behave.  "Do you agree?" he asked.
        "Yes," I said.  And the test began.
        Principal:  "What's 3 times 3?"
        Me:  "9."
        Principal:  "Good.  And what's 6 times 6?"
        Me:  "36."
        Principal:  "Good.  And 12 times 12?"
        Me:  "144."
        Principal:  "Good."  And so it went with every question the principal thought a third grader should know.  Finally, he looked at Mrs. Brooks and said, "I think Bobby should go to third grade."
        Mrs. Brooks disagreed.  "Let me ask him some questions first," she insisted.  "Then we'll see."
        The principal agreed, so Mrs. Brooks started.
        Mrs. Brooks: "What does a cow have four of that I have only two of?"
        Me, after a moment:  "Legs."
        Mrs. Brooks:  "And what's in your pants, that you have, but I don't have?''
       The principal looked like he wondered why would a teacher would ask a little boy such a question.  But I quickly replied:  "Pockets."
        Mrs. Brooks:  "And what does a dog do that a man steps into?"
        Me:  "Pants."
        Mrs. Brooks:  "And what starts with C, ends in T, is hairy, oval, delicious, and contains a thin, whitish liquid?"
        Me:  A coconut.'
        At this point, the principal was leaning forward at his desk with his mouth hanging open.
        Mrs. Brooks:  "What goes in hard and pink then comes out soft and sticky?"
        The principal's eyes opened really wide, but before he could stop my answer, I replied, "Bubble gum."
        Mrs. Brooks: "And what does a man do standing up, a woman sitting down, and a dog does on three legs?"
        Me:  "Shake hands."
        By now, the principal was trembling.
        Mrs. Brooks:  "What word begins with 'F,' ends in 'K,' and means 'a lot of heat and excitement?'"
        Me:  "Firetruck."
        The principal couldn't take it any more.  He leaped from his chair, breathed a sigh of relief that he was ending the test, and told Mrs. Brooks, "Put Bobby in fifth grade.  I got the last seven questions wrong.”