Recollections of growing up in the 1960s and 70s in Ridgewood, NJ.
"When time passes, it's the people who knew you whom you want to see; they're the ones you can talk to. When enough time passes, what's it matter what they did to you?"
John Irving (The Cider House Rules)
This is how the RHS Class of 1977 rolls. We gathered a band and were
gifted a bar in downtown Ridgewood for our 35th Reunion in 2012. Here is
our friend, Joanne Hunter Currey
,giving her all on the flute. You will recognize the tunes, "This Old
Cowboy" and "Can't You See" by Marshall Tucker. Please keep Joanne in
your prayers tonight as she made this evening special.
Tony Napier's son, Manny, expressed these words on Facebook upon the death of his father:
"I
am sad to say that my Dad, Tony Napier passed away today at the age of
78. My Dad was a physical education teacher for 35 years, coach of the
gymnastic team for 32 years. He was larger than life and anyone who had
him as a coach or teacher will tell you. He was a mentor, a teacher and
best of all the best Dad in the world."
I
was told it was a volleyball net which caused him to lose one of his fingers as a young coach. It didn't slow him down one bit and he was later inducted into the RHS Athletic Hall of Fame. All
my life I have never worn a ring, wedding or otherwise. When someone
asks me I always mention Mr. Napier. Funny way to remember a legendary
fellow like Mr. Napier but it's true. RIP.
Larry Coyle, a low-key coach who built a boys’ cross-country juggernaut
at Ridgewood High School, died Saturday at a Manhattan nursing home. He
was 74.
Larry Coyle
He had Alzheimer’s disease, his family said.
“Larry was this quiet guy who never raised his voice, never lost his
temper, but had this way of commanding kids’ respect,” said Mike Glynn,
his successor as cross-country coach.
“He would do anything for his kids, and they would go through a brick wall for him,” Glynn said.
Mr. Coyle taught English at Ridgewood and coached cross-country for all
his 29 years there. His Maroons won state Group 4 championships in 1991
and 1992, a dozen Bergen Group 4 championships and a slew of Bergen
Meet of Champions and other titles. He also coached track and field
early in his Ridgewood tenure.
Suburban Bergen County may have been the last place James Lawrence
Coyle imagined finding himself. The Bronx native went to Iona College on
a track scholarship — Glynn was a teammate — and began his teaching
career at a Catholic high school in Harlem. He was hired by Louis D.
Brandeis High School on the Upper West Side, but a citywide teachers
strike sidelined him and he wound up working at a Coca-Cola bottling
plant.
A job placement agency found Mr. Coyle a teaching position in Ridgewood, a town he never heard of. “New Jersey was completely foreign to my parents,” daughter Audrey Siciliano said. “Their world was the Five Boroughs.”
Mr. Coyle started at Ridgewood High in 1968 and immediately commenced
coaching. He commuted from New York City for a few years before settling
his family in Midland Park.
In retirement, he and his wife, Sandra, known as Patsy, moved back to Manhattan.
Mr. Coyle is survived by his wife of 48 years; his daughter, of
Winchester, Mass.; a son, Patrick, of Atlanta; and four grandchildren.
Arrangements were by Cremation Consultants in Brooklyn. The family is planning a New Jersey memorial service in September.
Doug Fromm, former Reverend of theCommunity Church at Upper Ridgewood, helped me clarifywhat inspires this blog. Please read an excerpt from a 2009 letter to the congregation:
"Our identity is dependent on having a story that tells who we are.We learn about one another by listening to each others story.We understand life by listening to the story that tells us what the world is like and where it is going.
A story gives a community its identity.To be a community is to have a narrative that is acquired, sustained, and told and retold.It gives a common memory.It gives a common vision.It gives us common rituals and shared symbols and actions.As we live in community our stories become part of the common story and the common story becomes part of our personal stories."
. . .we’re all in it together, no matter what. -Paul McCubbin