Giants Stadium

I can say that I have attended football games on two occasions since Giants Stadium opened in 1976, both times in 1976 and very early in the season. The NY Football Giants were dreadful that year and the second time I saw them we left early enough in the second half to be home in time to watch the end of the game on TV.

Since that inaugural season I have avidly followed my team no matter where I have lived in these United States, but never felt the urge to go tailgate and attend another game. The thought of tailgating in the exhaust fumes of the Giants Stadium parking lot never appealed to, though I am sure I would have had a good time.

I don't have any plans to visit the new Giants/Jets stadium being opened next year either, unless some bit of serendipity comes my way and a ticket is handed to me for free. This might happen sooner than I think since the Giants still have a load of tickets to sell.

As of March 2009:

"The Giants said Thursday that they had sold more than 70,000 personal seat licenses at the 82,500-seat stadium they are building with the Jets. The remaining unsold P.S.L.’s are in the high-priced club areas, where they cost $7,500 to $20,000 each."

This is for a franchise where the wait for season tickets used to be measured in years (133,000 people), though without the Personal Seat Licenses (PSL) to make them a true financial burden. As a bit of background, one buys the right (PSL) to then purchase the tickets for an entire season, plus boring pre-season games. One can later sell this PSL if they can find someone to take it off their hands. It all sounds like a scam to me and since I have always preferred the warmth of my living room to a frozen metal chair this is no loss in my book.

I am certain the new Giants/Jets Stadium will be a magnificent place to watch a football game. Though the wretched excess of the size of the place and the incredible PSL fees will no doubt curb my enthusiasm for a visit for many years to come.

Milo Okkema

I hadn't thought about Milo Okkema for a long time when I saw the recent obituary for Paul Samuelson. You see Mr Okkema used the classic Samuelson Economics textbook for an experimental class in Economics he taught at RHS in 1974-75. My brother came home from college one time and noticed me reading this tome and he said it was the same textbook being used at the University of Pennsylvania, and no doubt hundreds of other institutions. This observation made me feel good about taking such a demanding class as a 10th grader, with mostly Juniors and Seniors as my classmates.

Mr Okkema was a great teacher, not only because he was so demanding and expected plenty from everybody. He was a great teacher because he prepared himself so well and gave us very precise and detailed study guides for his exams. He was a thrifty sort and would type on the edges of the "ditto" sheets he would provide for every class. You would easily remember these if you were blindfolded and a fresh one was waved in front of your nose.

Mr Okkema produced vast loyalty among his students, especially those who could see they were being instructed by a man whose mind was sharp as a tack. He also would illicit great scorn by those who were afraid or didn't want to be challenged intellectually. These poor souls would taunt him behind his back and were incapable of seeing how lucky there were.

As for myself, I went along for the ride and when I left at the end of the year with a "B" for my efforts I knew I had been taught economics by an expert. And as it turned out I ended up with a college degree in Economics. Though sad to say I never had as memorable professor as Milo Okkema, nor one who has inspired a page in his memory on FaceBook

Snow Days

When we were growing up Snow Days were eagerly anticipated events. Before the Internet and our current instantaneous communication we literally had to listen to the AM radio to know whether our school system had been closed.

My Mom was always the first one awake in our house so she would switch on the little radio in the kitchen to begin the arduous process of listening for the status of the Ridgewood schools. My brothers and I would eventually shamble down from our warm beds to the kitchen to join her by the radio. We would all keep very quiet for fear of missing our school in the list of schools which was continually being updated and endlessly repeated.

Once the news was announced then a small celebration would begin and our minds would be filled with the wonder of how we would fill the hours in the day which had just been given to us.

My Dad on the other hand knew exactly how our day would begin: by shoveling our walk and driveway. This had to be done, whether we had a snow day or not, by the time he was ready to walk to the train station for his commute into Manhattan. There was no use pleading to him that nobody else had done their walks by 7:15 AM and that he would have to wade through the snow in front of their houses. He would just look at us and point to the door. He was a lawyer in those days and on these matters he was the judge and jury, too.

December in the Northeast

We had a dusting of snow today with more on the way tonight and tomorrow. It gives me pause to think about snow days and sledding on the hills at Willard School. After the first run it was easy but that first ride was always an adventure, fraught with peril which delighted us no matter how cold we were feeling.

A good snow also meant snowball fights. These were usually harmless but we always participated with our parents' voices of caution in the backs of our minds. I never saw much more than a bloody nose in any of the "fights" I watched or participated in as a kid. Even the years with heavy snows which had consecutive hours of fights, and many armed camps of grade school children battling each other. The most intense were held when I was in the 4th grade and we teamed with the 6th grade against the 5th grade. The guys in the 5th grade that year (class of 1976) were a tough bunch who didn't care who they were fighting. This is not to impune the toughness of the 6th graders, only to point out that the 5th grade that year was always ready for a good snowball fight.

When we were not fighting there was always the much appreciated art of building a snow fort. These sometimes lasted for days, and were sometimes sacrificed in a dispute with a rival group, or simply demolished for fun. It all depended upon the mood at the moment and the need to get back inside to warm up.

Snow lastly meant in the 1960's, before the ubiquitous presence of snowblowers, making some money by shoveling neighbor's walks and driveways. This was easy money if the snow hadn't turned to ice, but it was hard work if the temperature dropped. The people who couldn't shovel usually didn't know the difference between ice and snow since they most likely hadn't left their homes that day. They always bargained hard, and since we usually didn't state a price before we started, the bitter cold days always worked to their advantage.

Truth be told in my younger days, making top dollar was not our ultimate goal. The goal was to complete the transaction, grab the money, and go spend it. Sorry if this sounds unsophisticated, but clearly we were and we didn't ever stop to think about it. These facts make these reminiscences all the more memorable. I will personally never look back in anger at these business mistakes, to quote Yeats, "when I am old an grey and full of sleep and nodding by the fire." I chalk it all up to experience and to a simpler time in America.

RHS Class of 1976 35th Reunion

According to the RHS Class of 1976 Facebook site:

"Due to an overwhelming demand, we are holding our 35th Year Reunion in July 2011."

Cesca and Penny

Here is a photo of two of the brightest and funniest women I knew at RHS circa 1977.

New Traditions

I visited Ridgewood yesterday with the sole intention of purchasing a Christmas tree for our apartment in Queens. Yes, I could have bought something locally but the desire to see the trees on sale at the YMCA pulled me back to Jersey.

We used to buy our trees either at the Y or at the Paramus Reformed Church. I didn't see anything on the Internet regarding a tree sale at the church so I went to the Y straight off. When I arrived it dawned on me how much expansion and change had taken place at the Y since I had last been inside over 30 years ago. While I am sure the change was for the best it was not what I was looking for or the kind of trip down memory lane of which I am fond. I was looking to recall those family trips to pick out our tree, and then hauling it back home in our station wagon. It was a right of the season and something which we all enjoyed. The new layout at the Y was lacking something I can't put my finger on, and it sent me instead to the Farm stand at the corner Ridgewood Avenue and Paramus Road. It hasn't changed much since it opened for business in 1948, and is still offering the Frasier Fir Christmas trees and wreaths I was looking to purchase.

The smell of a fresh Frasier Fir tree is something that the tree manufacturers will never be able to duplicate. It fills a room with an air that is both refreshing and comforting at the same time.

Now that I have a Ridgewood tree and wreath decorating our apartment, we will slowly start collecting ornaments and decorations. This time honored tradition dovetails nicely with our new tradition to mark the holiday season.

Thanksgiving Day 2009

Here in the northeastern United States the weather is a very nice 60 degrees, with the sun shining through the clouds. By this time of year we are usually very thankful for weather like this because we won't see much of anything similar until spring.

In years past Ridgewood High School would play Fairlawn in football on Thanksgiving morning. This year Paramus is visiting Ridgewood so I wonder who they could burn in effigy? We used to burn Freddie Fairlawn and, as the picture of the water tower suggests, go and deface something in Fairlawn. I'm sure these acts suggest some sort of school spirit but then as now it is looked down upon by those in charge of our youth's moral upbringing.

Thanksgiving has always been one of my favorite holidays and one which I can clearly remember over the last 40 years or so. It probably has something to do with the food and family dynamic but fortunately for the holiday it doesn't require one to be able to cook or have ones own family present. In fact, some of my favorite memories are of times when I neither cooked or was with my own family. These moments to me demonstrate the beauty inherent in this time of year. People tend to allow for one more at their table, more than at any other time of the year. This custom speaks, as Abe Lincoln once said it, "to the better angels of our natures." To me it is just a gentle reminder of the vast potential we all have inside of us. Cheers!

Turkey Day Game 1986

From Left to right
Warren Lessing, Jim Noone, Mark Novy, Dave Rorty, Matt Fau, Hank Cannon, Tom Leyden, Bill Novy, Frank Marshall, Marc Russo, Kevin Rodgers, Andy Cahill, and Joey V.

An annual tradition since the early 1960s, these guys have played in all kinds of weather on Thanksgiving morning. I personally participated once in a monsoon and once in sub-freezing, frozen tundra conditions. While age and proximity don't permit my joining them I do marvel at their efforts to maintain friendships through the years.

If you are in the vicinity of Glen School around 9 AM this coming Thanksgiving you should drop in to say hello. There is always plenty of beer and the first one is using opened by halftime.

The Yellow Pages

This entry could be called either the Yellow Pages or the pages which have yellowed. Hard to imagine why I have saved this old copy of the Ridgewood Yellow pages but I did. These sort of things usually would have been thrown away long ago when my parents moved from Ridgewood in 1978 to an apartment in Manhattan. I suppose it made the initial trip because it contained useful information. The subsequent move they made to Hilton Head in 1984 should have spelled its doom, though again it made the trip along with everything else.

After this it should have been hurled away when my parents moved to Florida in the late 1990s but I had by this time grown accustomed to seeing it on a book shelf in my room and whisked it away back to New Jersey for safekeeping. It has since come with my back to New York City where it has a familiar spot on my book shelf.

RHS Class of 1973 Website

This class is starting to plan their 40th reunion in 2013.

RHS Class of 1973

RHS Class of 1980 30th Reunion Web Site

Here it is:

RHS Class of 1980 30th Reunion.


7 August 2010

Ramsey Golf and Country Club
Ramsey, NJ

Yankees Now and Then

I first remember rooting for the NY Yankees during the 1964 World Series which they lost in 7 games to St. Louis. For the next 12 years the Yankees were not very good, and they taught me what it means to be loyal to your favorite team.

The Yankees of my youth had Mickey Mantle in his declining years, where I saw him at Yankee Stadium hit some line drives that invariable would fall short of being home runs. It was hard to watch him struggle and do his infamous trot back to the dugout after making out. In addition to learning the meaning of loyalty I also learned something about compassion.

The final lesson I learned from rooting for the Yankees in my younger days was that not all people are endowed with the same skills and talents. If you ever saw the ragtag bunch who donned the Yankees pinstripes in the mid-1960s and early 1970s you will know what I mean. There were some diamonds in the rough like Thurman Munson and Bobby Murcer but most were very average guys like Horace Clarke, Jerry Kenney, Danny Cater, Gene Michael, to name a few. It's not that they didn't try, only that they had a tough act to follow. The teams which had preceding them had been very good for 40 years and as everybody knows that sort of dominance can't go on forever.

Now that my team has won its 27th World Championship I'll savor it for a while. I won't forget the disappointments of my youth and the hard lessons which they represent. These sort of things provide guidance and help us endure the inevitable hardships to come. Though for now I am counting the days until Spring Training, when my team will defend its crown. This choice of a favorite team was made in my youth and now seems so logical. Of course there were times when I questioned it. I can't exactly say why I stayed the course but it is days like today when I am glad I did.

RHS 1975 35th Reunion Plan

Jay McDonald posted the following to Facebook:

Talk has started regarding a 35th get together. There is a survey the committee is reviewing with a variety of questions including some alternate dates. Hopefully that survey gets sent out soon!

More updates here as they are made available. You might check here , too.

Ho-Ho-Kus Circa 1960s

These descriptions were provided by a former Ho-Ho-Kus resident who now lives in Australia. Here is the link and please do check out her site My Sydney Paris Life.

What follows is exactly how I remember it. Thanks, Carolyn.

The shops in the middle were our favourites:

* Mufson’s: Sliding-glass candy cabinets had a full range of penny candy and larger candy bars. Here we bought dot candy, Lik’M Aid, black licorice sticks, and Rob’s favourite Three Musketeers. Sometimes when my grandparents visited, my grandfather took me to Mufson’s to get a pint of Country Club vanilla ice cream. Best of all, some Wednesday nights after Dad took me and Rob out for our weekly dinner with him, he’d take us to Mufson’s afterwards. He stopped to get cigarettes for himself, but we knew he’d be good for a large candy bar and a 25-cent Little Dot or Richie Rich comic book for each of us.

* Ho-Ho-Kus Bakery: Sometimes Mom got bread here, where they asked me if we wanted it sliced thin or regular. Rob loved their jelly donuts. I requested their small rectangular 7-layer cake for my birthday every year. I often got a big chocolate chip cookie and Rob a large sugar cookie.

* Ben’s 5 & 10: The absolute, undisputed, world’s greatest 5 & 10 store on the planet, in my humble opinion. I can see every aisle in my mind, starting with my favorite, the stationery section on the left-hand side, lined with little rainbow pads and spiral notebooks. Toys were up the back, and on the right-hand side were the ‘grown-up’ aisles, with kitchen and sewing supplies. Robby and I lived on the left-hand aisle. I bought notebooks and pens and he bought squirt guns and miniature cars. I’ve been in many variety stores around the world but have never found one I liked as much as Ben’s.

Trick or Treat

In the days when I used to go trick or treating in Ridgewood, neighbors moved less often than they do now and we interacted with each other more. There existed a familiarity which our current insular brand of neighborliness does not afford us. When I finally stopped trick or treating in the 8th grade, it wasn't that I didn't like the free candy or walking around the neighborhood at night with my friends. It was more that I had come to the realization that I was just too old to be doing it. Funny thing was most all of my friends came to the same conclusion simultaneously.

Looking back on how our neighbors greeted us, and us them, it amazes me to recall how well we knew each of the houses. We had a good idea of what sort of reception we would receive and we would shout to one another in the street if someone was not home that evening. The best Halloween experiences were those like we received at the Gehrigs on Heights road. They used to invite trick or treaters into their home for hot apple cider. This stood in stark contrast to most every home we visited where the door was opened and we stayed on the front steps.

Nowadays Halloween is one of our biggest holidays in this country. The National Retail Federation published statistics to back up this assertion. They found that in the United States that 53.3% of consumers planned to buy a costume for Halloween 2005, spending $38.11 on average (up $10 from the year before). They were also expected to spend $4.96 billion in 2006, up significantly from just $3.3 billion the previous year. I remember we used to go out as hobos most of the time with our faces blackened with charcoal and our cloths old and ripped. These type of costumes didn't cost a thing and were quickly assembled immediately before going out. If we did buy something it was usually purchased at Woolworths in Ridgewood or from Ben's Five and Ten in Hohokus (pictured below).

Sincere Pumpkins

Ever October since I moved back to the northeast in the late 1990s, I have made a point of buying a "sincere pumpkin" or two to commemorate the season. At first I went to Tice's Farm in Woodcliff Lake to buy my pumpkins, where I would partake in the doughnuts and apple cider I remembered so well from growing up. Tice's neighbor, Van Ripers, closed its doors in 1994 but Tices carried on until 1999. Today the site is home to Tice's Corner Marketplace, a non-descriptive, strip mall. With Tices and Van Ripers long gone, I usually buy my pumpkins, cider, and doughnuts at Demarest Farms in Hillsdale, NJ. They do a fine job. My annual pilgrimage is made all the more special because we used to buy corn and blueberries from the Demarest roadside stand. They have since built a large market across the street from the original stand, and use it as a gathering point for the people they let pick fruit from their orchards.

What makes a pumpkin sincere? I naively believe it has much to do with the frame of mind of the person who is buying it. It also has to be locally grown and sold by a long-time farmer.

To my way of thinking it is important to imagine yourself as a child filled with the wonders of the season when you go to purchase the pumpkins. I like to first stop and dwell upon autumn's colors and unique tastes, like the apples and pumpkins which seem omnipresent, and then consciously go to choose a pumpkin. I look for a small, bright colored pumpkin with a strong stem. I don't carve them as I want them to last, and I don't possess a talent for carving. The pumpkin should be able to stand for weeks on its own in order to rate the accolade of a sincere pumpkin. This strategy has yet to fail me and it allows me to feel the authentic meaning of my ritual long into November.

Willard School 1968

This one has been hanging in Bill Nolan's office for the last 20 years and is a favorite.

Ridgewood Basement Parties 1977

Bill Nolan, Chris DuFlocq, and Paul Ferraro. I can't imagine what they might have been drinking but they certainly were having a fine time.






Jim Velordi, Dan Conti, Bill Nolan, and Tim Daly.

These guys were studs. ;-)







FYI, these are all on FaceBook. Just another reason to join as there are many more where these came from, and many more are on the way.

RHS Prom 1977

A big thank you goes out to Bill Nolan for posting this on FaceBook.







The guys from left to right with their dates:

Bill Nolan and Brenda Earl,
Tom Thurston and Jamie Rider,
Paul Ferraro and Kim Puglisi,
Mike Crockford and Tammy Porreca,
Dan Conti and Mary Beth Reagan,
Jim Velordi and Carol Murphy,
Tim Daly and Kim Dalby.

Dr. Lenihan

Last time I drove by his office it was being razed for something else. Funny how things change and more often than not a concrete memory becomes just another piece of concrete.

Dr. Thomas Lenihan had his office at 530 North Maple Avenue in Ridgewood. It was located for a while in the 1960s directly across the street from the old Maple House Ice Cream Store.

All my brothers and I visited him until our 18 birthdays and then he would turn us loose as we were no longer children. I will always remember my last visit when I was 18 and ready to go off to college. This visit was different from all the rest because it was my last, and my mother didn't give me a ride down to his office. When we were younger she had always accompanied us into the examination room. I suppose by this last visit I had grown self-conscious enough to tell her that her participation was no longer necessary.

On this last visit when we were done Dr. Lenihan looked me in the eye and shook my hand. It was very similar to another time later in my life when I shook the hand of a friend, both of us knowing full well we would never see each other again.

Dr. Lenihan wished me well in college and I then made a point of thanking him for all he had done for me while growing up.

A knowing smile overcome both of us and I walked out of his life forever.

Ice Cream Stores

This photo courtesy of www.201.net. I still have a 201 area code on my cell so I am fairly certain that is where they draw the name for this site which highlights the best of Bergen County.


"The kids tag along to help out when the adults come to Terwilliger & Wakefield in Ridgewood to pick up their families’ supplies of milk for the next few days. Here, Mrs. F.W. Tenney receives her two quart-bottles’ worth from T&W staffer Catherine Van Echelpoel; Tenney’s grandson, 3-year-old Richard Long, seems quite pleased with the transaction.

T&W, particularly beloved among locals for its large cones of premium ice cream, was a regular stop for visitors to Ridgewood’s Wild Duck Pond Area, just across East Ridgewood Avenue. The company was later sold to Dreyer’s Grand Ice Cream, and the site today houses a branch of Prudential Insurance Company."

Along with T+Ws there was also the Maple House on the border of Hohokus and Ridgewood which we frequented for ice cream in the 1960s, and Van Dykes on Ackerman which is still serving delicious ice cream by all accounts.

Of course during baseball season it was a tradition for winning teams to visit Dairy Queen, where if your manager told them you had hit a home run that day they would give you a banana split on the house.

Ho-Ho-Kus Inn

It took me over 40 years before I first stepped foot in this historic Inn. I must have passed it literally thousands of times but never had an occasion to eat, drink, or have a look inside. This all changed on the night before my wedding in Ridgewood when I entertained my family there and had a wonderful evening.

I am not too sure my parents had ever eaten there either before my wedding. They were like many parents of the day in Ridgewood and didn't eat out much and instead feverishly saved for their childrens' college education. They also didn't take their kids out to dinner much, which is quite different from today. I often wonder if kids today are dine out more because both parents have to work, or both parents have to work because they dine out more than we did. All I know is that eating out was a special moment and our table manners had to be precise. We were shown what to do with our napkins, elbows were kept off the table, and we buttered one small piece of bread at a time and not the whole piece. I still laugh thinking about the bread whenever I dine out with clients and they reveal their complete lack of table manners by picking up a piece of bread and slathering it with butter. Seriously, does anyone really want to watch them do this? We were taught that it was the small things which counted and that dining out should be enjoyable for everyone, including the people sitting next to you in the restaurant.


The Ho-Ho-Kus Inn is currently being renovated and various announcements have stated that it was to re-open in the spring of fall of 2009. I hope they make it but am well aware of how difficult it is to run an upscale restaurant in a down economy.

This tidbit is from Wilipedia and sounds fairly accurate but you never know.

Ho-Ho-Kus Inn was oringally a private residence built for John “Jake” Zabriskie in 1790. After his death the house was converted into a private church and served as a parsonage for the Christ Episcopal Church in Ringwood. During this time Ho-Ho-Kus Inn had been referred to by several nicknames such as Zabriskie House, the Villa Inn, The Mansion House, the Wayside Inn, and the Washington Inn.

The building later became a resting house for the New York elite until 1920 and was referred to as Mansion House during this time. In 1920 the house faced demolition but was saved by Mrs. H.T.B. Jacquelin. In 1941 the house was purchased by the town and became a landmark and was leased to several people. In 2007 the restaurant was bought by Chris Kelly. Kelly had asked George Zahakos and Catherine Stauch, formerly of the Bicycle Club in Englewood Cliffs, to take over the restaurant however this deal has fallen through.

Passbook Savings Accounts

It was on April 1st 1986 that the end of Federal regulation on passbook savings accounts allowed banks and savings and loans to pay whatever they wanted.

I remember my first savings account and the 5% interest it earned. I had to go into the imposing bank on Ridgewood Avenue and give them my money so they could then stamp my passbook. The bank is located in the left of the photo and is still there, though under another name. The interest they pay now is one of their own choosing, and likely much less than what I used to receive.

The transactions I recall occurred in the era when the term "Bankers' Hours" meant that your bank opened at 10 AM and closed at 3 PM Monday through Friday. This gave the bankers time to count the money and make sure they were able to greet the public with the self-confidence which the laws and our social customs required.

It really is a quaint idea to recall: the bankers were well-known and respected members of the community, who kept a tight rein on borrowing. They were, after all, the safeguards (literally) of the local money. Risky loans were discouraged and the people who were having trouble with making payments were counseled, and in some cases had their loans re-worked. It was Jimmy Stewart in "It's a Wonderful Life" that would represent this ideal picture in my mind in all its glory.

Now I would love to say, in order to strike a contrast between now and then, that we now have Lionel Barrymore's character, Mr Potter, in all his evil glory minding the money of our banks. Though this would be far from the truth. Nobody is actually counting the money these days or opening the doors to the public at 10 AM. Banking is now a non-stop affair conducted over the Internet and in bank branches open 7 days a week. The bankers are mostly unknowns in the community because there are so many branches and the people who work in them come and go like bus boys at a restaurant. Whether this is all progress is not for me to say. I can say that I like the interest they used to pay and the huge edifices they had to house our funds. When I see a bank like this today I known that it will either be made a landmark or sold to be used for something else like an upscale deli. I would personally love to have an office in such a structure, that or an old railroad station.

Our First Award for Blogging

     I would love to say this blog earned an award for public service or journalistic excellence but all we did was exist on the Internet and a company found us. In return for this award, the firm wants a permanent link to their site. This I won't do unless they can show me they have a connection to RHS, and then I will gladly give them a link because I have done this for other alumni. The award is from a company who sells National Football League ThrowBack Football Jerseys. As a child this would have thrilled me as I used to wear football jerseys all the time, especially to play football. The more mud, blood, and grass stains these jerseys accumulated the better we felt wearing them. Now these jerseys are simply another piece of clothing to me as my football days are long gone. I am grateful for the recognition and if you hurry you might even see this blog in the featured section by following this link: Throwbackfootballjerseys.net

On the Bus

Growing up I lived near the end of the line for a commuter bus which carried people into New York City. It was very handy in junior and senior high school because we could see the bus pass by on its way to the end of the line, the spot on Hillcrest Road where it turned around. On cold or rainy days this meant we usual had about 5 minutes to wait before it returned.

In those days people could smoke on the bus. Many under age smokers found this was one of the few places they could light up and not be caught. You knew the bus driver wasn't going to say a word, especially if you saw his ashtray filled with cigarette butts. People would smoke no matter how crowded the bus, and this was simply accepted as commonplace.

The ride cost a quarter to either GW or RHS. It's funny to think that when I was in high school if I had wanted to walk say three or four blocks in the opposite direction I could have rode a yellow school bus for free. RHS provided a ride to kids who lived more than 2 miles from school. We lived just within this 2 mile limit.

While the yellow bus was a bargain it wasn't nearly as interesting as the commuter bus, catching a ride to school in a friend's car, walking or even riding my bicycle. No, the yellow bus was too filled with school-related pressures for me in the morning to make it a compelling option, and it was long gone after I was down with sports practices in the afternoon. I can honestly say I never once rode the yellow bus and truly doubt that I missed anything.

Touch Football

When I was growing up Autumn afternoons, like the one we are having today in the Northeast, were devoted to touch football. The games on Saturdays and Sundays were usually played at Willard School on a field comprised mostly in our imaginations, and one which bears little resemblance to the neatly manicured field that exists today.

We played on a field with no markers and which was largely composed of dirt. The out-of-bounds marker on one side was based upon the upright posts of a metal fence on California Street. The other out-of-bounds marker was more specific because it was the stone wall which abutted the school itself.

The dimensions of the field mattered very little to us because the game itself was more important. If only the fathers of today would take these words to heart, they could have saved themselves a ton of tax dollars spent sprucing up fields which required no maintenance other than cutting the grass in the summer. Such is the irony of life.

We only lived for the game in those days and didn't care how the field looked or was designed. There were rainy days we played and reveled mostly in the mud we accumulated on our cloths. Not that our mothers, who had to wash our cloths, had the same feeling but they at least understood where we had been and what we had been doing. These seemingly innocent games were rights of passage and nothing was going to stop us, except the eventual coming of snow in winter. We might have marveled at the Professionals who played through the "Ice Bowls" in Green Bay, Wisconsin but we would only carry this admiration just so far. When it was too cold to throw or catch the ball the Touch Football season was over.

Now that I have lived a half century the Touch Football season is long over. I tried to play at the annual Turkey Day Game at Glen Field on Thanksgiving but my body in the late 1990s had long since betrayed me, and the exhilaration was gone.

My friends still keep the tradition of touch football going each and every Thanksgiving, so if you are in the vicinity of Glen School around 10:00 AM next Thanksgiving you should stop in, that is, if your body will permit.

The Tug of the Past

I had a moment of enlightment while reading Richard Russo's novel Bridge of Sighs. He is the author of Nobody's Fool.

When I read the following I knew at once it applied to why I blog about a time long gone. To set the scene this is a father, who is writing an autobiography, responding to his son:

"Mom says you are writing your life story up there."

"Nothing quite so grand as that, I tell him, though it's true I've written far more than I expected to, having underestimated the tug of the past, the intoxication of memory, the attraction of explaining myself, to, well, myself."

When I read the words "intoxication of memory" and "underestimating the tug of the past" I knew Mr Russo had nailed the feeling which I enjoy.

This blog, as I am gratefully able to tell one and all who read it, is my belated attempt to explain to myself some of what went on over 30 years ago. To the many people who have found this blog and sent their kind words, I extend a hearty thank you. It is all I really need to keep bringing up these memories of mine which bubble up at the most unexpected moments.

The bottom line is: I'll keep writing if you all keep reading. Also, please send your old pictures as they are, as the old saying goes, worth a thousand words. Your suggestions for posts are also most welcome.

Cheers!

Summer Vacation

I guess if the President has his way then K-12 students need to beware. Our President is floating ideas about the summer vacation we all just enjoyed. It could be sharply curtailed if President Barack Obama gets his way.

Obama says American kids spend too little time in school, putting them at a disadvantage with other students around the globe.

"Now, I know longer school days and school years are not wildly popular ideas," the president said earlier this year. "Not with Malia and Sasha, not in my family, and probably not in yours. But the challenges of a new century demand more time in the classroom."

The president, who has a sixth-grader and a third-grader, wants schools to add time to classes, to stay open late and to let kids in on weekends so they have a safe place to go.

"Our school calendar is based upon the agrarian economy and not too many of our kids are working the fields today,"

Now let Paul McCubbin offer his view: In my personal experience, the idea of giving school children the summer off from school has always been held in high esteem. It is a time-honored tradition which we have fit into our schedules for a number of generations. I don't see how our economic position would be improved if we robbed our youth of time off to explore during the summer, and disrupted all their parents vacation plans.

How about we just get the parents more involved during the current school year, and not give them one more thing to worry about during the summer months?

As it stands most households with school age children already have two parents working fulltime. Hey, and what about the teachers??? Does anyone think that they are working 40 hour weeks? They never did in Ridgewood when I attended. Let's just all relax and give this entire idea a second thought. Peace.

Jens Larson in the Circus

If you had ever wondered if the rumors about Jens Larson joining the circus after college were true, then this picture should end your doubts. I heard from him via FaceBook and it was wonderful to re-connect with someone from my old Willard neighborhood. He is married and teaches high school in Phoenix since retiring from the circus. Check him out here:

Jens in the Circus

Ridgewood Bags

Long before it appeared that every school boy and girl was wearing a backpack to school, we were carrying our Ridgewood Bags at our sides. These were usually purchased at one of the two sporting goods stores in town, Perdue's or Bernard's.

We filled these bags with school books, gym shorts, gym shirts, and socks. What's more, they were only carried by guys. I don't remember what the girls used for their books, unless they held to that wonderfully, old-fashioned idea that the boys should carry their books. I know this happened because I remember doing it.

We starting carrying Ridgewood Bags to Junior High School because GW was much further away than Willard, and usually was a bus or car ride. The same was true for RHS, which was even further away for us folks who went to Willard.

The Ridgewood Bag was a rite of passage, in our small-world mindset. I think that it meant that one felt confident enough to go along with the crowd. It was much the same as the Varsity Jacket that guys wore in High School when they became a Letterman in a sport.

While I bought into the Ridgewood Bag I never purchased a Varsity Jacket, and I was a 3 Letterman in High School. The Varsity Jackets were more for the Football, Soccer, Basketball, Wrestling, and Baseball guys. I ran Cross Country and Track. The only Track guy I remember having a Varsity Jacket was my pal Kurt, and he was a 3 Letterman for his entire High School career. There were others who had purchased a Varsity Jacket, though for the most part, they had purchased the jacket while earning a letter in some other sport.

The pure Track guys were usually low-key, especially that select few who did nothing else but run. It's not that we didn't admire and respect the Varsity Jacket because we did. As I recall we were probably thinking more about the weather, and how to stay warm during our Track practices in sub-freezing weather and torrential rains. The Soccer and Football guys practiced in the rain and endured the same heat we did, but they never practiced in January at Veteran's Field, and had to wear long underwear, hats, gloves. I am sure they would have done it if Coach Sweeney or Coach Bennett had asked, but they were never called upon to endure these elements. Maybe this gave them more time to contemplate the aura which surrounded the sports in which they participated. These were the same guys who dressed in ties on the day of games, and were urged on by Cheerleaders who wore their uniforms to school to remind us that there were Football and Soccer games about to be played.

For those of us who participated in Cross Country races and Track Meets the necktie was optional, and the Cheerleaders never showed. This was fine with us because we all knew that Cross Country races and Track Meets did not lend themselves to the sort of excitement which the Cheerleaders produced. This all made for a different mindset among the Track guys. For the most part we knew that nobody was going to urge us on during our events, except our closest friends and family. It's not that it wasn't important to us. We just understood the world as it was. We knew all too well that our events paled in comparison to the Saturday crowds with hotdog vendors which the Football team had behind them.

We Track guys reveled in our individualism and enjoyed those quiet satisfactions which came with a turkey sandwich from the deli near Van Cortlandt Park in the Bronx. We raced in all kinds of weather and lived to tell about it, as the cliche goes. If you had seen us run the Eastern States Championship race in 1976 in a monsoon, you would understand what we endured that day at Van Cortlandt, and how we had fun in our own special way despite everything.

Stickball

Living next to Willard School did have a few advantages. One was the ability to view the playing fields and stickball court from my bedroom window. The "court" as I call it was basically a wall built in the early 1960s that was probably erected to keep balls from bouncing off the teachers cars in the adjacent parking lot. People used one side for practicing their tennis stroke and kids like me and my younger brother used the other side for stickball. We played so much baseball as kids that my brother's left arm became so strong that his very first season in Tiny Tim League (8 and 9 year olds) he overwhelmed all the kids he pitched against with straight and true fast balls. He has always given me credit for this but it was largely his own talent and the good fortune of living next to a very active schoolyard.

In Spring and Summer it was baseball and in the Autumn we played football. Soccer wouldn't become popular in Ridgewood until the 1970s and, now it is played with a passionate intensity once only known by baseball and stickball players in town. The soccer Moms and Dads have produced leagues for the Spring and Autumn, plus road teams which travel to other towns for soccer tournaments. Kinda hard to imagine that for stickball. In fact, I don't know if there any other stickball courts in town. If my memory serves me none of the other schools have a wall with the proper dimensions for a game. Of course, you could always play against the school itself, which we did when the older boys were using the court. Though playing against the school was not the same and often times the janitors would tell us to stop for fear we would break a window.

Amazingly enough the wall we used for our games still stands and the last time I looked a batters box to determine balls and strikes was still visible on the wall. Hard for me to say if they play as often as we did. There are so many other sports and activities to draw kids attention that it wouldn't surprise if stickball was a lost art.

Graydon Pool 2009

     The following article is from today's NY Times. I've always liked the look of Graydon and my family spent many happy days swimming there, but times have changed. The cost of keeping this charming reminder of a simpler era just doesn't make sense in our current economic climate. The article cites the fact that there are only 3000 members, and that this number is down from 6000 in 1999. I wonder how many people were members in the 1960s and 1970s?

"When she was growing up in Ho-Ho-Kus, N.J., in the 1980s, Melinda Cronk and her friends envied the kids in nearby Ridgewood for one simple reason — Graydon Pool, the languorous green park and 2.6-acre natural swimming hole that was Ridgewood’s blissful monument to suburban summers. In the year before the 100th anniversary of Graydon Park — its pool was established in 1929 — it’s easy to see why. With its sandy beach, its fieldstone walls and particularly its sand-bottom swimming hole filled with 3.8 million gallons of spring water, Graydon Pool seems like an idyllic throwback to a less hurried version of suburban life. Ms. Cronk still thinks of Graydon as a magical place. But, alas, she no longer thinks it’s a practical one. She lives in Ridgewood but does not pay the modest dues to join Graydon. And, after three years of study, the village task force she heads has decided that the only way to save Graydon is to plow it under and replace it with a more familiar symbol of summer, a blue concrete pool. The result has been an increasingly nasty battle, lawyers at the ready, pitting Graydon loyalists, many, but not all, of them longtime residents, versus advocates for a concrete pool, many, but not all of them, younger families new to town. It has turned into one of those litmus tests of modern life and particularly modern parenting. The Graydon loyalists, who have organized a group called the Preserve Graydon Coalition, say Ridgewood would betray its heritage if it opted for a new pool. “If they do what they’re planning, it would be just another thing lost to the wrecking ball of suburban sterility,” said Mark Ferraro, a lawyer, whose grandfather was a lifeguard at Graydon. Ms. Cronk said that, nostalgia aside, people in town have deserted Graydon in droves for more conventional pools in nearby towns. In Ridgewood, a village of about 25,000 people, membership, she said, had dropped to less than 3,000 now from more than 6,000 in 1999. She said surveys of Graydon members and nonmembers showed that too many people view Graydon as unsafe and unclean. Younger residents in particular want a thoroughly disinfected pool with clear waters so they can always see their youngsters. In a 2008 letter, the State Department of Environmental Protection recommended that the town change to a real pool, she said. “In its heyday, that beach was packed,” said Ms. Cronk, co-chairwoman of the Ridgewood Pool Project. “I wish it were not like this, but it’s just not being used. We’ve got to face the reality of changing times, and every path we walked down led to a bona fide pool.” Graydon’s problems, by some measures, began in the mid-1990s when the state first eliminated and then sharply curtailed the chemicals used to keep the water clean. There were problems over the years with clarity, algae and geese. Timothy Cronin, Ridgewood’s director of Parks and Recreation, said that Graydon is now as clean and clear as it’s been in the nearly three decades he’s worked in Ridgewood, with clarity of 10 to 12 feet. Still, he doubts that’s good enough for many parents. “When I drive past the schools in this town, you wouldn’t believe the number of parents who drive the children to school,” he said. “My parents never drove me to school. I took the bus or walked. There’s just a higher level of concern on safety issues now. Maybe they don’t want children walking to school because of all the articles you read about pedophiles.” Even among the parents at Graydon, there were differing views. Tanya Lee, who has lived in town for 15 years, said her four children regularly use the pool and love it. “A lot of the people who complain about Graydon never go to Graydon,” she said. But Jeanette Venizelos, a five-year resident with two small children said it was time for a concrete pool. “I grew up with a real pool,” she said. “And when people say this is a pool, I say this isn’t a pool, it’s a duck pond, a chlorinated duck pond.” There are many cross currents. Last year, a child drowned, a 14-year-old boy from South Korea who had been in the country for two days and was in a deep area he was not qualified to be in. The pool’s safety record is comparable to other pools — Mr. Cronin said he believed there had been two other drownings in the pool’s 80-year history — but the one last summer only deepened the concerns. Graydon proponents point to a modest vogue for natural pools, saying Ridgewood wants to destroy its pond just when it would be in tune with contemporary green sensibilities. Art Wrubel, chairman of the village historic preservation commission, said the commission was adamantly opposed to a concrete pool that would destroy any part of the existing pool and has drafted a letter to the council saying any changes should “improve upon Graydon’s natural and historical landscape.” Then there are financial issues — costs of building a new one or addressing dwindling revenues from the old one. Both sides say they are Graydon’s real defenders. The pool project’s report is billed “Restoring Our Village Landmark.” Advocates say a concrete pool, sensitively built and respecting the park’s distinctive natural setting, is the only way to return it to the community gathering place it used to be. The swimming season ends Labor Day, but the battle is just heating up. The council is considering a request for proposals for a new or updated pool. The Preserve Graydon Coalition plans a show of force for a pro-pond presentation to the council on Wednesday. A pro-pool group, Fix Graydon Now! — headed by a longtime Graydon member, Leigh Warren, who has reluctantly come to believe that Graydon will never lure back enough people in its current form — plans a show of force in opposition. 'I’m told there will be a police presence,' one of the pro-pond organizers said ominously." E-mail: peappl@nytimes.com

Glen School Reunion Update

This is from my pals at the Glen School Class of 1967 blog:

Art Brierley was kind enough to file the necessary papers and we are confirmed for the Glen School reunion. It will be Saturday November 7 at Glen School! I will update with times, cost, etc.

If you're already on the list I will email you - I will need your addresses and phone numbers soon. If you're stumbling onto this site, come to the reunion! We have about 38 so far but there are still a lot of classic Glen alums out there! Get in touch! If you don't we'll make you climb the ropes in the gym! Its hectic at the moment with local baseball, etc but we will ensure everything goes smoothly with this one - its special!

I promise I will add more great Glen stories!

BF and RHS friends are welcome too - but space is limited so you have to let me know!

Email them at cmad@ntplx.net.

Baseball Gloves

I got this quote off the New York Daily News blog:

I remember the days of summer when we never left the house without bringing our baseball gloves. The gloves fit very nicely over the handle bars of our bikes. We never knew where or when a game of baseball, softball or stickball might break out, so we always had to be prepared...even if it was two guys just having a catch. I look around today and sadly I don't see that anymore.

Read more: http://www.nydailynews.com/sports/2009/08/26/2009-08-26_summer_essay_series_what_a_day.html#ixzz0PK6ewkTJ

A few years ago I decided that if I ever played another game of softball or stickball it would be with a new glove. It was then that I got rid of the only two baseball gloves I had ever owned. Now these gloves were over 40 years old and had long ago out-lived their usefulness, but I had kept them anyhow. It was both sad and liberating to throw the gloves away. I was sad because they were old and filled with many great moments. I was happy because it meant I might have one more chance to break in a new glove.

It's been 20 years exactly since I last played a game of baseball. The very happy circumstances around this last game, not unlike Ted Williams last at-bat, have held me back from participating again. Why try to top yourself? This is an old show biz adage and I am an old ham.

In any event, it was 20 years ago that I was playing my first game as a "ringer" on a US Congressional league softball team. The Congressional League rules require that a woman bats at least every third at bat. This meant I was going to be sitting for most of the game as I was a newbie, and the girls had to play.

By the time I walked to the plate we were losing 15-0. I knew I would have one chance and would have to be patient. Just my luck the opposing team brought in a new pitcher, who was hoping to make good. His first pitch was right across the plate and I took it for a strike. This took the pitcher by surprise and I suspect he wanted me to make contact. The next pitch I didn't take and sent over the center fielder's head for a home run. When I crossed home plate I suspected this would be last at-bat.

If this is to be my last game I privately will allow myself to say I retired in the same manner as Boston Red Sox great, Ted Williams. On his last at-bat in 1960 he hit a home run, and seemingly skipped all around the bases.



Notice all the empty seats in Fenway Park in Boston. I didn't skip but I felt I was done, and haven't entertained the idea of doing it again, for love or money.

The Dog Days of Summer

These are the hottest, most sultry days of summer. They seemed to always coincide with those last few days before we returned to school, and a routine we knew well.

By the time the Dog Days arrived in August we had been without our usual ways of doing things for a couple of months. While we loved the freedom, there was also a desire to see people again who were usually only encountered in a school setting. This is just the way it was, people took vacations at different times and we would lose touch with one another. I don't remember how long it took to re-connect once we resumed school, not long I imagine, but it seemed by the Dog Days that we had been out of school for quite a while.

I lived adjacent to the school yard of Willard School and could literally look out my bedroom window to see who was there, and what sort of games were being played. By late August I knew not to look because there wouldn't be enough people to start a game of baseball, and even if there were it would be too hot and muggy to contemplate choosing up sides.

I suppose the thing which kept us going, if we were around during this miserable stretch of the summer and not out of town on vacation, was thinking about the alternative: sitting in a hot classroom in September!

The days before our classrooms were air conditioned, as they are now in Ridgewood, were wretched for teachers and students alike. I know it's fine to be nostalgic about the simpler days, I do it all the time, but this one facet of growing up will never, ever seem like a pleasant idea. Nobody trying to learn in a hot, brick building could concentrate or think of anything except getting out of their school cloths and running around barefoot, including the teachers I would imagine.

We didn't have a centrally air-conditioned house until I was a junior in high school. I can clearly remember walking the two miles home from RHS during the dog days of my sophomore year. It was hot and I was carrying a ton of books. When I came home I shed my cloths and stood in front of a large fan for about 15 minutes. Of course, I then went outside to see what was going on in the school yard. Nothing was going to keep me inside by this time, heat or no heat. Even standing under a tree on a late summer afternoon was better than the alternative of sitting inside a school building. Every little breeze we felt made us thankful, even if we didn't verbalize it, that we were out and about. It's moments like these I suppose we will ponder later in life. Or as one of my favorite poets William Butler Yeats wrote, "When you are old and gray and full of sleep. And nodding by the fire." For that brief moment under the huge oak tree behind the principal's office we were both free and cool. There is nothing better in the world for my money.

The Duck Pond

I was reminded of the Duck Pond when I came across the news that it now has a dog park, a couple of fenced pens for dogs to run around in without a lease. I'll save my opinion of this for when I have seen it for myself.



By some good luck this is an item I came across during my Google search, courtesy of the Ridgewood Historical Society. It reminded me once again of how times change, and how we are smart when we find new uses for old ideas. In this case, ice was a prized commodity in the days before refrigeration could be afforded by everyone. By the time I came around the Duck Pond had fortunately evolved into a skating rink in the winter, a place for elementary school class parties, and a spot to take a date for a stroll during more temperate climate.

I am hoping that Ridgewood finds a similar use for Graydon Pool which is just as enduring as the one that was found for the Duck Pond. Seeing Graydon empty, like I did recently this summer, is not something which brings back any good memories for me, or makes financial sense when we are in the middle of a depression. Just my two cents.
Now the article which made me smile:


"When The Duck Pond Was More Than A Walk In The Park"

Before there were refrigerators there was the Duck Pond. As recently as the early 1930s, local hotels, inns and uptown markets relied on ice to keep food fresh and lemonade cold. Ridgewood’s Duck Pond was a major source of ice at that time, which was harvested and stored in the winter for use in warmer days. The enterprise was owned by Garret Tallman and Walter Hanham and their “empire” consisted of six wooden buildings that stretched from the west bank of the pond to Pleasant Avenue.

Blocks of ice two feet thick and three to four feet long were cut and hauled by pulleys into the ice house where it was stacked between layers of salt hay to prevent melting. Horses were used to maneuver the ice from pond to shed and they required special horse shoes to grip the slippery ice. If an accident sent the animals into open water, everyone participated in their rescue. Any delay could mean sickness or death for the horses.

The stored ice lasted throughout the warm weather season. Ice was not used in the winter as families relied on pantry boxes set in the windows, or lowered into a well. In the fall, the pond was drained and cleaned and men in hip boots would rake the bottom. This proved a bonanza for the people of the area: fresh fish was available for dinner! Many people waited at the pond’s edge for the fish thrown to them by the rake wielders. In time, we progressed to refrigeration and harvested our own ice in trays. Then the Duck Pond became a walk in the park!

Source: Alberta C. Ruckert, The Record 4/28/80 Photo: National Geographic

Stanley Warner Theater

Had to post this one! Everybody will remember the Warner as it looked in this photo (photo is circa 1930's but it pretty much looked like this in the 70's too!) Lots of Saturdays I spent there with friends and dates. What a great town to grow up in !!!

Ridgewood Moving Services: Cindy Neidig Myers 1977

Little did I know when I moved from NJ to NYC in 2002 that the moving company, Ridgewood Moving Services, I chose would one day be owned by Cindy Neidig, class of 1977. They did a fantastic job and I would certainly employ them again. I have added a link to their site to the sidebar. This site is all about helping people to reconnect, but also about helping people. Cindy's firm did a wonderful job in helping me back in 2002 and I didn't want it to go unnoticed.

Matt Fau on Graduation Night 1977

Matt with Cesca and Sue Broadhurst.










Has anybody heard from Sue lately? If we want our 35th reunion advertised on the RHS web site we need our class representative (Sue) to forward the details to the RHS webmaster.

We would all love to see you post on FaceBook, Sue.

Lucky Dave Rorty

David Hastings Rorty, class of 1977, has always been a ladies man. Here is a shot circa 1977 with Sue Kenyon.

Sue Kenyon in London 2009

No, this is not Sue Kenyon, RHS class of 1977, with her new boyfriend. It is Sue on vacation with her son. Such genuine affection needs no words to describe.





Sue posted this photo on FaceBook so I am hoping she doesn't mind my posting it here.


Here are some other more vintage shots:



Sue and Leslie DeVries in 1977












This is a stellar photo of Sue:

Upper Ridgewood Tennis Club

I learned to play tennis starting at the age of 8 at the URTC. We dressed in tennis whites and had to play to the letter of the rules. This included on weekends being kicked off the courts by adult members. We didn't ask why but if they saw us playing and there were no other courts then we were done.

I stopped playing for good when I started watching people like McEnroe on TV ruin the game with child outbursts at referees. I know he thought it helped him receive better calls but it also completely shattered the aura of civility which had been a watchword for the game. Now McEnroe makes jokes in American Express commercials making light of his petulant behavior, where he goes and apologizes to the retired referees he badmouthed. This is too little and too late for him.


He is the current fee schedule:

FEES & DUES SCHEDULE

Application Fee $25.00 per adult membership
Initiation Fee $1,300 per adult, payable at once or over 4 years
Membership Certificate $2,000 per adult, payable at once or over 4 years
Annual Dues $775 (age 35 to 65)
$575 (age 31 to 35)
$585 (over age 65)
Annual Dues - Juniors $165 (up to age 18)
Annual Dues – Jr. Associates $175 (age 19 to 23)
Annual Dues – Associates* $350 (age 24 to 30)

Another Restaurant for Ridgewood?

The phrase, "Carrying Coals to Newcastle" came to mind when I glanced at the Village of Ridgewood web site and saw the following notice:

Take notice that the Village Council has determined that it is in the best interest of the Village to permit the issuance of an additional Plenary Retail Consumption Liquor License pursuant to the authority granted to it under N.J.S.A. 33:1-19 et seq.
Date of Receipt of Bids:
September 18, 2009 at 10:00 A.M.

I guess the town also needs a few more bank branches.

Tom Watson

I usually don't have the patience to watch Golf on TV, or anywhere else. This weekend was different because a guy who was winning tournaments in the 1970s was giving the youngsters a run for their money. He was trying to become the oldest champion in golf history.

Tom Watson showed us all the importance of determination, especially when you are up against great odds. Tom came through in spades this weekend.

Though the look in Tom Watson's eyes should not be forgotten by us newly minted 50-somethings. He did his best but it wasn't good enough. He was playing in a young man's sport, and at a very high level. There is nothing to be ashamed of here, and an object lesson for us all; though it still hurts for an old jock like me to watch.



Moral: Dare To Be Good.



Thanks, Tom.

"And That's The Way It Is"

It would be hard to write a blog about the 1960s and 1970's without mentioning the passing of Walter Cronkite. He read the news for CBS from 1962-81 and did it in an age when we trusted newsreaders more than we do now.

It has been noted in other outlets that more people now watch American Idol than they do the likes of Katie Couric, Brian Williams and Charles Gibson combined. Times have changed and families simply don't gather to eat dinner in front of the evening news anymore. There are just too many other ways to read the news for oneself, and these can be accomplished without the sanctimonious undertone which is so common among today's newsreaders. The "Talent" as they are euphemistically called by some, usually seem more intent on letting their declining viewership know exactly how they feel about a story, instead of letting the story be the lead.

Cronkite on the other hand, read the bare facts. He was studiously unemotional and never spoke down to us. His one moment of emotion on the air came when he had to announce the assassination of John F. Kennedy. He took his classes off, turned to look at the clock on the wall, and then told the nation that their President was dead. It was a calming and reassuring moment for a nation which sorely needed one.

The NY Times had a fine characterization of Cronkite in their obituary of him, which I have paraphrased for this entry:

"He looked like a kindly newspaper editor interrupted in the middle of a big news day, busy, of course, but never too busy to explain the latest developments to out-of-town visitors."

We will likely never see another one on TV like Walter Cronkite, and "his boyish enthusiasm." He was, in a phrase,"the most trusted man in America." Hard to call to mind anyone know who could be paid the same tribute.

Jim Velordi is still a Rocker

This photo of RHS 1977 grad Jim Velordi was posted on FaceBook by Jane Ratliff. He was playing with the band Walkin Joe at The Cave in Kennesaw, GA - July 12, 2009 and is the third from the left. Very cool to see someone doing something they obviously love to do.

The Wonder of Space Flight

A glance at today's NY Times reminded me that forty years ago we were all watching the first steps of earthlings on the moon. We all use to watch events like these together, usually in the early morning. There was a sense of pride in accomplishing each step of our progress to the ultimate goal of stepping foot on the moon. People actually camped at the site of the launch in Florida in order to get a better view of the launch. Hard to imagine us getting this exciting about anything today, at least in the same collective sense. We now all have our own enthusiasms and it takes a tragedy like 911, or a huge sporting event like the Super Bowl, for us all to watch something together.

I like to make the observation at business lunches that the same courage it took to suggest we land a man on the moon is probably missing today. Of course, this may be a lingering effect of the loss of the 3 martini lunch, too. After a few cocktails we all become more brave and the thought of spending billions in order to conduct scientific research doesn't seem so out of the ordinary. If you posit the same idea to a bunch of people drinking iced tea and lemonade you will likely receive a less than enthusiastic response, and the cost would be brought up and the possible loss of life.

It is all too bad because I feel we lack a certain swagger and confidence. We need these sort of challenges in order to improve ourselves and the world around us. To dwell on what might go wrong is to take time away from reflecting upon what might go very right. Going to the moon was the correct decision and we are all the better for it.

Men Of 1977 in the Adirondacks

Tom Thurston was kind enough to send this photo to me from a recent gathering of men from the class of 1977. In his own words:

Paul,

The pictures of some of the “Girls of ‘77” caught our eye and we wanted to try and give some balance to your blog. Of course the girls pictured are a lot easier on the eyes then the tired old broken down ex-jocks pictured here at the Sagamore Golf Club on Lake George, NY but we definitely had more than our share of laughs when we got together.

Tom

Pictured; Front Row: Frank O’Connor, Sam Cermack
Back Row; Brian McKinley, Bill Nolan, Barry Gainey, Tom Thurston, Bob Brierly, Chris Duflocq, Paul Tobin

Not Pictured: Jim Velordi, Dan Conte



Please keep the pictures coming!

New Jersey Beefsteak

I played football in 9th grade (I hadn't discovered running yet) and wrestled through 11th grade. In that time, I remember two end-of-season sports banquets catered by Hap Nightingale. Nattily dressed waiters with gleaming silver trays delivered endless portions of buttery steak on bread points. We would eat and eat and eat, the wrestlers particularly happy to be free of weigh-ins.

At the time, I had no idea I was participating in a unique Bergen - Passaic County tradition: The Beefsteak. This New York Times piece is a great reminder:

“Once you start going to beefsteaks, it’s an addiction,” said Al Baker, a Hasbrouck Heights policeman who had organized the evening’s festivities to benefit the Special Olympics. “You’ve got the tender beef, butter, salt, French fries, beer — all your major food groups. But it’s very unique to North Jersey. I go to other places and nobody’s heard of it.” [...]

Their business office is the house’s cramped basement, and the tenderloins are grilled over hardwood charcoal in the driveway before being taken to the beefsteak venues. From this unlikely command center, the Nightingales catered over 600 beefsteaks last year, going through 88,000 pounds of tenderloin in the process.

New Jersey has so many charming and unique traditions. I should probably spend a little Google time trying to figure out what was so magical about the Jersey tomato.

TV Antennas

Today is the last day for analog transmission of television signals. In other words, no more antennas. The FCC has mandated that from now on the only form of TV is going to be digital.

It reminds me that I had the opportunity recently to prattle on to a 20 year old on the subject of how it was when I was growing up (a theme on this blog if you haven't guessed). Here are some of the differences:

1. We had fewer channels on the TV to choose from and we had no remote controls. In our house we would alternate every thirty minutes among ourselves as to who would choose the next show, and get up to change the channel.

2. We had rotary phones with no answering machines or caller id. Not to mention we sometimes used pay phones because we had no cell phones.

3. Vinyl records.

4. We read newspapers and couldn't rely on The Internet for our news.

I stopped at this point because the guy's eyes were glazing over and he was probably sitting there wondering how boring a childhood I must have had. This no doubt was the same expression I had when my parents and grandparents explained how it was in their day.

The point here is that as we witness the rapid evolution of our means of communication, there are some things like reminiscing about our childhoods which will not change. I only hope to be able to use the current systems of communications, like this blog, to hammer home this point and to collect some memories of a simpler age before we grow too old to remember.

This idea was captured in a poem, in another time, by William Butler Yeats. This is a favorite poem of mine, and one which I have committed to memory:

William Butler Yeats. b. 1865

When You are Old

WHEN you are old and gray and full of sleep
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead,
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

Ladies of 1977 in Las Vegas

These ladies had the right idea by getting together in Las Vegas to renew old acquaintances and celebrate 50th birthdays.

Young Entrepreneurs 2009

An article in today's USA Today wrote about how teenagers were having trouble finding jobs, and were starting their own businesses.

It just reminded me that the more things change, the more they stay the same. In the 1970's we all had to work, because there were very few Fast Food joints and retail establishments who needed us.

As a bit of review, the boys mostly did the leaf raking, lawn mowing, and snow shoveling; the girls mostly did the baby sitting. Though I made a good amount of cash babysitting for neighbors between the ages of 12 and 14, at $1.00 an hour.

I think it is great that kids today are discovering their entrepreneurial smarts. This can only speak good things for them as they learn business skills and burn off excess calories.

Update: Class of 1979 30th Reunion

Here is the latest news on the 30th Reunion of the class of 1979. It was taken from their web site. I like the idea of a tour of RHS, especially if you haven't been back in the last 30 years or so to see if they have changed the combination of your locker. The improvements to the building and the addition of new Science facilities are all pretty amazing.

1. Friday Afternoon Tour of Ridgewood HS
(June 5th)

Kick off reunion weekend at 5 pm on Friday at the RHS Student Center. Tour the school with your classmates and Student Ambassadors. This is a great chance to see all the changes at RHS as well as reminisce about the previous century. Park and enter at the Little Theater entrance off Ridgewood Ave.
2.Friday Evening at the Elk’s Club in Ridgewood
(June 5th)

Beginning at 8:00pm till 1:00am there will be festivities at the Elk’s Club, 111 Maple Ave. This gathering will feature live music provided by many of our classmates who are still “rockin” after all these years! This was a highlight of our 25th weekend. Cost is $10.00 at the door. All are welcome!
3. Saturday Golf Outing
(June 6th)

We have organized a Golf Outing on Saturday at the Crystal Springs Resort (Great Gorge Country Club about a 45 minute drive from Ridgewood). Tee times will begin at 9:30am and we should be done by 2:30pm. Register for golf here. Cost is $113.00 which includes green fees, cart, and box lunch.

4.Saturday Night 30th Reunion Dinner
(June 6th)

At 7:00pm our Official Reunion Dinner celebration will commence at the Banquet Room of the Brick House restaurant, 179 Godwin Ave., Wyckoff. We have the banquet room till 11:00pm (They also have a bar that is open till 1:00am!). The cost for the evening is $99.00 per person and includes hors d’oeuvres, dinner, and an open bar.

5. Slide Show for Saturday night!

We are in the process of putting together a "slide show" that will be played throughout the Reunion dinner and would like you to share some of your favorite pictures from your high school daze. To have your pictures be part of this slide show, simply scan you photo’s and email them to cjdittrick-kg3f@post.me.com.
6. Lodging

We have reserved a "block" of rooms at the Doubletree Hotel in Mahwah, NJ for $109.00 per night for both Friday and Saturday night (either night or both). This rate also includes free round trip shuttle to and from the Brick House Restaurant on Saturday night. Their phone number is 201-529-5880, and their website is www.mahwah.doubletree.com. Just mention that you are with the "Ridgewood High School Class of 1979" to get the rate.
7. Getting the word out!

The reunion committee has tracked down as many of our classmates as we could find (email addresses, Facebook, MySpace, RHS website, you name it!). Please help us find some of the remaining missing classmates by viewing the attachment to this email and scanning it to see if there is someone whose email address you know. We would appreciate it if you could forward this email to them as well as providing our "email address guru" Dave Granata at d.granata@comcast.net with their email address so they will get any updates. Dave has painstakingly gathered and organized as many email addresses as we could collectively find and we appreciate your help in spreading the word. You can also direct them to the official RHS alum website, where updates and links are posted. www.alumniclass.com/ridgewoodhsnj