“The
life of every man is a log in which he means to write one story and writes
another; and his humblest hour is when he compares the volume as it is with
what he vowed to make it.” James M. Barrie, creator of “Peter Pan,” quoted in
1960 Upper Dublin yearbook
With vigils, demonstrations, and riots taking place in
Minneapolis, Atlanta, and dozens of other cities, the Covid-19 pandemic is
suddenly no longer the top news story. Even
so, yesterday Northwest Indiana reported 11 new deaths even as most area communities
started reopening. The elderly have been
especially hard hit. Although obituaries
rarely mention cause of death, the number seems to have ballooned. Here’s an
excerpt for World War II veteran Otto Henry Loeffler, a lifelong Valparaiso resident:
Otto was a fine
athlete, playing in the Dodgers minor league baseball system, then becoming a
first-rate golfer and bowler. He played
a fine hand of blackjack. Whether
rousting his kids up to go fishing or golfing at 5:00 AM, hosting family
get-togethers or spending time with Evelyn (late wife of 60 years) or
grandchildren. Otto was full of positive
energy. His last days were spent in the
isolation of the 2020 pandemic, which did not sit well with someone who loved
the company of his family and a dog on his lap.
R.I.P. Otto.
A few days ago good friend Tom Wade left for Connecticut to see
his dying brother. He posted this eulogy
on Facebook along with a photo with his big brother:
My older brother Dan
passed away yesterday after fighting kidney disease for more than a decade. He
was an extraordinary human being, holding a variety of academic positions and
awards and ending up at Yale for the last 34 years. He, along with Carol, his
loving wife of 54 years, were longtime warriors for peace and social justice.
They ended their wedding in 1966 with a 10 minute plea for ending the war in
Vietnam, and were in the middle of the 1968 protests for peace at the
Democratic National Convention in Chicago. He had a wonderful internal joy
about him that warmed all who knew him. He leaves behind his wife and partner
in peace Carol, daughters Alyson and Malory, and grandson Luke. Thanks for
being such a great example for your little brother, Dano. Love forever bro!
My Upper Dublin “Class of 1960” reunion has been “rescheduled”
for October 2021. As the planning
committee put it, nobody wants a solemn affair where masks are worn and old
friends must keep six feet apart.
Compared to the momentous events engulfing us during this “plague year,”
this is relatively unimportant. Still,
it’s a bitter pill. I’ve attended every
reunion since our twentieth. I missed
the tenth because I’d just begun teaching at Indiana University Northwest and
had returned to Pennsylvania the previous week for my mother’s wedding. The reunions always provide vivid memories and
surprises. In 1980 I smoked out with
Gaard Murphy and hubby Chuck in the parking lot, and we’ve been good friends
ever since. I heard Ed Piszak ask
Eleanor Smith at the registration desk if Jimmy Lane had arrived and then
surprised him when he came up the steps. Still looking young for my age, I was
taken aback when some folks hardly recognized me because I’d grown a good six
inches since high school. Lo and behold,
I was taller than Suzi Hummel, who asked if I were in touch with Chuck
Bahmueller, her next-door neighbor in East Oreland. I danced with a dozen
classmates, including Faith Marvill, whom I dated in seventh grade, and Leslie
Boone, looking like an absolutely gorgeous high school senior. Dick (“call me
Richard”) Garretson got Bruce Allen and me to go into the adjacent bar to watch
the Phillies clinch the National league pennant (they’d go on to win the World
Series) and tried to persuade us to meet their plane at the Philadelphia
airport. Alas, the team still has a
Sunday game. That’s the last time I saw
cool Dick Garretson. Next day, I talked on
the phone with Judy Jenkins for 40 minutes reporting on reunion highlights.
In 1990 I mistook Carolyn Aubel for Carolyn Ott and blurted out
that I’d had a crush on her in grade school.
Beforehand, Chuck Bahmueller and I argued politics for an hour before
sitting with beauties Judy Jenkins, Molly Schade, Suzi Hummel, and Susan Floyd,
who asked me to dance to “Proud Mary.” Judy
said she had trouble remembering many classmates. It helps to get out the yearbook beforehand, I
said, momentarily forgetting that because she needed a summer course, Judy, along
with a half-dozen others, got excluded from “The Mundockian.” What administration bullshit! After a post-reunion gathering (many of us
being reluctant to have the night come to an end) Thelma Van Sant gave
Bahmueller and me a ride back to our hotel. Just south of U.D. was the Van Sant
farm (now gone), where many of us had worked summers and in whose long winding
access road made out with dates, in my case once interrupted by Chief Ottinger.
1995 began a traditional of reunions every five years. Seeing Kathleen Birchler, star of the U.D.
field hockey team, for the first since graduation, I recalled how at Fort
Washington elementary school she competed in soccer with the guys at[LJ1] recess
while most girls (and a lone guy) played house in dirt patches. Kathleen once beat up a kid a year older than
her in a fight, making his nose bleed.
She claimed to have no memory of the incident. I got Wayne Wylie (who never dances, wife
Fran warned me) to boogie with me to the Ramones’ “I Wanna be Sedated.” He lived on a farm in Jarrettown; on summer
sleepovers we’d ride a tractor out into the cornfield, pick corn and his mom
would cook up four ears each for us. Ambrosia.
Favorite teacher Ed Taddei came to our fortieth reunion, along
with football coach Frank Gilronan and music teacher Robert Foust. I confessed that I had misbehaved in his
class, and Mr. Foust replied, “You
weren’t so bad.” He must have witnessed
worse, forced to teach some apathetic groups just once a week. Bob Reller came to his first reunion with a
comely wife. I danced to a Motown number
with Mary Dinkins, married to a preacher, who sat behind me in Latin class;
once I turned around to say something clever to Mary when Miss LeVan whacked me
with a ruler. The Temptations song caused Mary to close her eyes and show some
soulful dance moves. Dave Seibold and
his wife wowed everyone with ballroom dance moves they must have learned at
Arthur Murray studios.
For the first time in 2005 Toni attended a reunion. Classmates
joked that they’d wondered if I’d made her up. We were returning from the Jersey shore and
had Miranda with us. We sat at a table
with John Jacobsen, who offered to give up his seat when it appeared that we
were one serving short. Still ruggedly
handsome, John recalled Fort Washington school teachers Miss Worthington, Mrs.
Orr, Mrs. Bytheway, and Mr. Johnson, the latter a weasel of a man with a big
Adam’s apple that I’d almost forgotten about.
Sultry Miss Polsky (who could get a rise out of me when she called me
Jacques), Mr. Bek (my hundred-pound football coach), and Miss Malkus attended
as did two cool classmates who for some reason had changed their names, Tony Tucciarone
and John Magyar, who once fought chemistry teacher John Schwering in the
hallway. Vince Curll and I would visit
Tony Tucciarone on the way to the movies in Ambler and sample his mom’s
delicious homemade bread. Eddie Piszek, full-headed and fit, gave overweight
Magyar diet tips.
Several first-timers made it to the fiftieth, including
childhood pal Jay Bumm and homecoming queen Wendy Henry wearing, unbelievably,
her tiara. I tried to ask tenth grade girlfriend Mary Delp to dance, but Skip
Pollard’s wife, who’d been her neighbor in Naperville, shushed me away. When “The Bristol Stomp” came on, Alice
Ottinger and I showed off some moves and got an approving smile from Jimmy
Coombs; then for good measure we slow-danced. Later cameras came out when Alice
danced with old flame Jay Bumm. Marianne
Tambourino and star athlete Percy Herder, who worked at the old high school, came
onto the dance floor, and later Phil Arnold organized a Stroll line.
In 2015 I chatted at dinner with LeeLee Minehart and her husband
Bob whom she met in Afghanistan while in the Peace Corps. Among those stopping
to chat at our table were Ed Dudnek and Rita Grasso, who looked stunningly
beautiful. I traded Babe Ruth baseball
league memories with Eddie Piszek. Ron
Hawthorn’s dad (Mr. Haw-the-Haw) was our coach and Dave Seibold our star first
baseman. Classmate Freddie Scott played
hits from 1960, including “The Twist” by Chubby Checker (I preferred the Hank
Ballard original), “Go, Jimmy, Go” by Jimmy Clanton, and “Save the Last Dance
for Me” by the Drifters. Although I
needed the help of nametags for a few classmates, I recognized most
immediately. Pat Zollo was bald but
otherwise hadn’t changed much, holding forth with humorous stories of wilder
days. Coombs, who looked like he could
hold his own in a fight, asked whether I was in touch with Penny Roberts
(negative) and I countered with questions about the Fad brothers. Barbara
Bitting, married to classmate Joe Ricketts, remained blond and beautiful,
Connie Heard more youthful acting than in high school almost. Susan Floyd showed me a photo circa 1969 of
her, hubby Joe McGraw and Terry and Gayle Jenkins looking like hippies. In 1969
I had long hair and a beard, too. As Teenagers Susan and I hung out at Terry
and Judy Jenkins’ house and shared many memories. Like so many of my
classmates, Susan has aged gracefully.
Let’s hope most of us can rendezvous in 2021.
