60th High School Reunion

I graduated from Thomas Jefferson High School in Elizabeth, New Jersey in 1963, 60 years ago.  A reunion after 60 years appeared surreal given how rapidly time had elapsed.  With each year, the passage of time seems to accelerate as I hear echoes from others saying there goes another year.  Back when I was attending public school from kindergarten through high school, the months would creep by until the much-awaited summer would arrive.  Out of school, once in the work world, the seasons began to merge into each other inasmuch as there no longer existed a “summer” free of the burden of school or work.

Because my wife, Lisa and I were staying in New York City, I had arranged with my oldest friend Marc Goldblatt to pick us up at the train station in Elizabeth.  He came down from Oneonta, NY and picked us up exactly as we planned at 10:30 in the morning.  Etched in my mind, never to go away, is my memory of Marc and I on the see-saw in Mrs. Gleckler’s kindergarten room.  We arrived at the reunion site, the Galloping Hill Golf Course, just as the reunion was getting underway.   

Just making it to the reunion at the age of 78 was an accomplishment.  Those that make it to reunions generally have fared well.  Those that have not done so well in their lives along with those that are no longer living don’t make it to reunions.  What is most curious about reunions is the selective memories that one carries with oneself the many years since having graduated.

There was Marty Gale who had recently had a leg amputated, but to his credit attended the reunion and aside from loss of leg looked quite well.  What stuck out in mind was when he, Gary Rose and I were in the 5^th grade, we all decided to play miniature golf.  He, too, recalled the time. Of course, there were no cell phones back in those days so without verifying whether there was a miniature golf course at Galloping Hill Road, we headed there as it was closest from our starting point.  To our disappointment, we discovered that there was a golf course and a shorter course to practice chipping and putting, but no miniature golf course.  But the three of us were both headstrong and determined to play miniature golf, so we decided to go to Bowcraft, an amusement park that we knew had miniature golf.  We did not even consider the distance, over 10 miles to get there with the most direct way on the heavily travelled Route 22.  The trip, to us, given our age seemed endless, and we all spontaneously realized that we were probably not supposed to be bike riding where we were.  But we persisted and finally arrived and enjoyed playing.  The trip back seemed faster than going but that may have been due to the fact that we now knew how long it would take along with knowing where we were heading.  Such was the shared memory we had over 60 years ago.

At my luncheon table were David Monfried, Stuart Levy and Richard Verbel with their respective spouses.  I had seen David at a previous reunion but had not seen Richard or Stuart since I was 18.  As I told his wife, Richard had been a jokester but had been appreciated by all.  She saw him differently as a pretty serious and very reliant father and spouse.  The responsibilities concomitant with growing up are part what make us who we are.

I reminded my classmates of the times we spent at the Young Men’s Hebrew Association (Y.M.H.A.)  participating in activities such as basketball and swimming.  Happy Pezia (spelling?) was in charge of all the recreational activities and very much lived up to his name.  I can still remember him saying: “Buzzy (my name those days) what’s it going to be today.” Happy, stout and barrel chested, an ex-marine who had lost a finger in WWII, was one of the nicest guys I ever knew.  He made my visits to the “Y” that much more enjoyable.

Then there was Anne Fischler who I had known since elementary school.  Marc and I reminded her that whenever we celebrated Field Day at Warinanco Park toward the end of the year, she would always win the 50-yard dash and receive the blue ribbon.  She smiled and said that she had aspired to be a gym teacher but an early marriage and children had changed that.  However, she told me she had very much liked being a social worker who specialized in working with children of Holocaust survivors.

There was Patty Holzer who I remember for her wonderful smile and most outgoing personality.  She was one of those people that everyone liked.  It was part of her charm.  Sixty years later she still had those same qualities.   Barbara Greenberg, coming all the way from England, and Betsy Dunston both looked great and immediately recognizable.  Barbara and I both recalled our grandmothers who were best friends during our childhood. 

Then there was Andy Gross and Gary Knapp together with their respective wives.  Andy, well-built in high school, had maintained his physique after having played with the New York Giants, my favorite football team.  I reminded him of our wrestling days in high school:  Before each match he would say: “I have the Hershey squirts.”  As big as he was, like the rest of us, he had those memorable moments of anxiety before each match.  When I asked him what it was like playing football with the New York Giants, he recalled butting heads with the infamous Dick Butkus of the Chicago Bears.  During Andy’s first play from scrimmage Dick noticed Andy’s jersey was clean white and commented: “Are you ready freshman?” Opposing Dick Butkus would have given anybody the Hershey squirts.

It was great seeing John Brinkley, with whom I competed on the wrestling team at Jefferson along with having traveled to Stratford, Connecticut a few times to see some plays by Shakespeare.  He told me he had joined the peace corps and had served in Ethiopia.  I shared with him that I had gone domestic and joined VISTA (Volunteers in Service to America).  Louis Bedrock, who I had heard had been an outstanding teacher, told me he had never realized how difficult it was to teach young children in the Bronx.  How modest he was.  Jonathan Kozol, an American writer best known for his books on public education in the United States, published an article years ago after observing Louis in his classroom.  He pointed out that “Mr. Bedrock is a sensitive and empathetic teacher.  The children in his 4^th grade class confide in him and grow emotionally close to him.”  Lou, if Kozol said this about your teaching skills, I’m sure you were more than a good teacher.

As time had so quickly passed in our lives, the afternoon suddenly was over and I found myself exhausted from the day as my wife and I had started the day early in the morning.  Because he was going in our direction, my dear friend, George Stavis, who I have known from elementary school, generously offered Debbie Takiff a ride to her daughter’s apartment in Jersey City, and Lisa and I a ride back to NYC. Debbie told me her youngest brother, Michael, was still living in the one-bedroom apartment I had rented in Manhattan from 1974 till 1978. When I moved to California, I let my younger brother, Dan, live there until the lease expired and, afterwards, his friend Michael moved in and has been there since 1980.  Michael got married and he and his wife raised a child in this same apartment with a dog to boot.  When I commented to Debbie how tight that must have been for all, she replied that New Yorkers have a different perspective when it comes to space.  I like New York, but I also like my space.

My wife and I completed the trip with George who I have seen from time to time in the past 60 years.  We both recalled the time when, unexpected, we paid a visit to our 8^th grade teacher, Ms. O’Flaherty.  I still remember her bright blue eyes beaming down on us like lasers if anyone of us was out of order.  Aside from the discipline, she was a great teacher.  George updated me on his brothers as I updated him on my brothers.  All of our brothers were the same age as each other so we Natelson’s knew the Stavis family well.

One of my classmates asked me why I had come so far from California to attend the reunion.  I told him I had fond memories of my youth and this would probably be the last time I would see classmates I hadn’t seen in years.  Finally, kudos are in order to Dennis Curren, Cheryl Curren, Fred Boff and Marilyn Weiner for contacting all of us and finding  an excellent place to have the reunion.