Pace's Pizza - the landmark for how many evenings

Pace's Pizza map
Originally uploaded by Brite Lights photos.

JAMESTOWN, N.Y. - Pace's Pizza on W. 3rd Street was the scene of soooo many nights of pizza scarfing when we were in high school. (When, pray tell, did we ever start using the expression 'scarf' for 'eat?')

But many folks might not remember that there was a Pace's Pizza in Lakewood for some years, too, a tiny little place across the street (sort of) from the Hideaway bar (another place about which I could write novels...).

When we were 13-14, we would hang out at Pace's for hours, nursing Coca-Colas. There was young woman named Donna usually running the joint, who would give us a slice or two of pizza.

We hatched a scheme in which one of us would call Pace's, order a pizza (using a phony name like Melvin Dingelweiler) and then show up a half-hour later for our Coca-Colas. Donna would start getting pissed at Mr. Dingelweiler, who, of course, wasn't going to ever show.

And she would eventually share the pizza with us. Funny now the Dingelweilers of the world never got anchovies.

I think she figured out pretty early what we were doing, but kept making the pizzas as long as we could come up with good names and changed our voices enough. We got a lot of free Coca-Cola, too, particularly if we were willing to listen to her stories about her generally messed-up love life.

I received word just today from Dave Fessenden (aka 'Fuzzy' who is married to Peggy Putney) that Dino Pace is ill and in a hospital in Florida.

Whether you caged pizzas from Dino like I did - or actually paid cash - you might consider dropping him a note.

Here's his address at the hospital:

Dino Pace
Kindred Hospital, Ssouth Fl
1859 Van Buren St.
Hollywood, FL 33024

John Rupp's obituary, submitted to the P-J

John Rupp
Originally uploaded by Brite light photos.

SOUTH BURLINGTON, Vermont - I've had to write thousands of obituaries in my life, mostly for people I didn't know. A few times, I've had to write them for people who were acquaintances.

But I've never had to write one for a friend before.

John died very quickly - the first email indicating that he was going to go into hospice care was only April 4.

That same day, obviously thinking he had lots of time left on the earth, I received this from him:

--------
Thanks for calling me this a.m. flash from the past and always great to hear from you. I am looking forward to the big bash this summer we can reunite on the "lake that is tied in the middle" If I can swing it I will be buying a brick to memorialize my existense and maybe a quote about not going quietly into the night, O Captain, my Captain. And god willing, we will hoist a few dark brews for those fallen and for those brave enough to face Life's Chall-anges pronounced in the style of Cousteau. Peace, love and Power to the People.
--------

John's wife Paula told me that John (who she called JR) really appreciated all the phone calls and attempts at contact in his last days.

What follows is the obituary that I submitted to the Jamestown Post-Journal for publication. It won't look quite like this when the professional journalists get done hacking it...

===========================

John Michael Rupp
7-21-1947 to 4-18-2006

John Michael Rupp died April 18, 2006 at his home in South Burlington, Vermont.

At the time of his death, Mr. Rupp had been battling with cancer for several years. He died peacefully in the company of family and friends, wishing him well on his last journey.

Mr. Rupp was born in Bradford, Penn., July 21, 1947 but grew up in Lakewood, New York where he was raised by his parents, the late Frances Hoy Rupp and the late Emerson Joyce Rupp.

He attended local schools and graduated from Southwestern Central High School in Jamestown, N.Y. in 1966. In high school, Mr. Rupp distinguished himself working on the student newspaper, The Trojan, as a columnist, as well as winning numerous tennis matches on the school tennis team, earning his varsity letter. He also was member of the wrestling, cross country and soccer teams.

After graduation, he attended the University of Miami, where he studied psychology. He later attended the Esalen Institute and Naropa for massage training.

Mr. Rupp was an avid naturalist and worked at a number of occupations in his life, doing caretaking, security, landscaping and massage, especially with the Tyler Place, a resort in Vermont. He also enjoyed working as a volunteer interpretive guide in Kauai, his adopted home for 20 years before he moved to Vermont. He also lived in Colorado for some time. Almost all of Mr. Rupp’s homes were in mountain areas.

He was an avid runner, backpacker and enjoyed playing tennis. His most enjoyable moments were spent with his family, wife Paula, and daughter Noelani, 4.

In addition to his wife and daughter, (both of South Burlington, Vermont) he is survived by his son, Orion Penn, 31 of Seattle.

Also living in loving memory of John is his hanai son Ki’ai Barretto and hanai daughter Ka’iulani Baretto, both of Kauai, his Hawaii ohana, and numerous devoted friends around the world and across the country.

The family thanks all of the physicians and hospice staff and personnel for their gentle care.

Mr. Rupp’s ashes will be brought to Kauai for a memorial service May 13.

On July 21, Mr. Rupp’s birthday, there will be a remembrance hike up Mt. Philo in Charlotte, Vermont to honor his life.

In lieu of flowers, the family asks that any donations be sent to his daughter Noelani’s college fund at 201 Brand Farm Drive, South Burlington, VT 05403.

Who we were and who we turned out to be

Jennifer Wall
Originally uploaded by Brite light photos.

JAMESTOWN, N.Y. - We were in 9th grade, in Mrs. Pascuillo's English clas and I remember having to give speeches at some point.

Speeches? Gulp!

I wasn't much on public speaking in junior high school and high school. In fact, I had total terror of facing a crowd. (My apologies, here to the anonymous un-fan of this blog who sent the nastygram back in March. This is a really hard thing to write about without the first personal pronoun.)

We were in the auditorium and while I think I would look at it today and think it was a tiny place, I remember it as cavernous and the stage quite high.

Two things stick out about that day.

First, whenever someone gave a speech, all of us sitting down in front were sooooo critical. Jay Piazza was especially good at slamming people. But when Jennifer Wall (now Jennifer Wall Breland) got up and gave a speech/presentation about art, Jay was speechless, a totally unnatural condition for him, I remember. After she finished, I remember him saying, "How can you slam Jennifer Wall?"

In her very soft voice, she talked about some art, showed examples for us to see, and Mrs. Pascuillo practically applauded. Jennifer had more poise than most of us, I remember that clearly.

The second memory is clear, too, but a lot more painful.

I had not prepared a speech (a familiar pattern that extended to all homework), but damn it was my day all of a sudden and there was Mrs. P. saying "Mike, you're up."

Up the creek would have been more accurate and a good predictor of the doom that awaited.

I had just read an article about telepathy, somewhere, and so I thought I could wing it. Youthful confidence bolstered by the fact that I had no choice pushed me up on the stage. You did not tell Mrs. P. you weren't ready - or that your assignment was not done.

Standing up on that stage, I boldly said, "My speech is about telepathy..." except that I completely mispronounced telepathy and said "Tele-Path-ee." And the more I went on, the more I said "Tele-Path-ee," over and over, because my mind drew a blank on any content. All I could remember was the word.

Jim Carr was near the front and desperately tried to signal me that I was toast. I mean, how much could I really know about telepathy if I couldn't even pronounce the goddamn name right.

Mrs. P.'s face went from smile to frown to total rage by the time the three minutes were up. The three minutes seemed like three years.

It took me another 20 years to learn that when you do public speaking, if you are prepared, it's no big deal. Really.

I sometimes have to speak to several hundred people at a time - which does give me pause - but I make sure I have at least twice as much material as I think I will need, three really good jokes and a new obnoxious tie to divert people's attention.

It works, but I'm stuck with a closet full of awful neckties. Perhaps I'll bring some to the reunion, but no speeches for me, thank you very much.

ON ANOTHER NOTE:

Marcia Carlson Hein has been busy blogging on her website (the link is to the right). You might want to check it out.

Time to order an official Class of '66 reunion T-shirt

Official Class of '66 reunion T-shirt
Originally uploaded by Brite Lights photos.

JAMESTOWN, N.Y. - Randy Carlson and Jim Lindell say that if you want to buy a Class of '66 T-shirt or sweatshirt, the time is now, amigos.

I bought one of each.

You can order by simply emailing Jim at
Jim@arrotool.com.



Jim says no cash up front is necessary, but he needs the orders sometime soon - which I translate as probably within the next week.

All this reminds me that I should get moving and make my airline reservations, too. I've been wobbling about exactly when to come east - and how long to stay.

So many upstate New York wineries to visit, so little time.

Carol Nunn and Allan Winger - classmates reunited

Carol Nunn and Allan Winger
Originally uploaded by Brite light photos.

LANGHORNE, Pennsylvania - Allan Winger took one look at the list Randy Carlson passed along and realized that Carol Nunn was practically a neighbor.

Here's Allan's email that he sent me with the photo you see here:

==============

Carol Nunn (Morganti) was still at the address that you gave us yesterday. I took my daughter and a camera along. She was really surprised when I gave her my ID Card and she read my name. It's been forty years. We had a nice long talk with her and her husband Phil. She wants to come to the reunion. I gave her copies of that Reunion stuff that Randy Carlson sent us all.

Oh yeah, she's really looking hard for Roberta Lindbeck Knight. So if you hear anything, pass it on to me and I'll make sure she gets it.

Allan

===================
Allan also sent along this photo of Carol with her husband Phil:



Anyone else been able to sleuth out someone from the most recent list?

Anyone have any photos?

In the meantime, there's a couple of other items for your attention.

First, this from Gloria Boutelle:

=============

Hi again,

Gavert, McIntire first name is Darlene not Susan.

Also Kathy Widrig Bradley no longer has an email address but her snail mail address is 172 Little Creek Drive Rochester, NY 14616. Wish someone could talk her into attending reunion.
=============

Oh!!!! And one more thing. Marcia Carlson sent along this missive:

=============
Not sure if this is of any use to anybody, but I can add a snail mail address to your list. You never know, I might see one or two classmates on this side of the pond one day.... Steve, I recognise the location of your recent picture. I believe you’re standing on the Millennium Bridge, on the south bank, near the new Tate Gallery. Next time you’re planning a visit, do contact me! Perhaps we can organise high tea or a pint somewhere...

Marcia Carlson Hein
87 Granville Road
Hillingdon, Uxbridge
Middlesex UB10 9AF
UK

Letters, we get letters, we get lots and lots...

mailboxes
Originally uploaded by Brite light photos.

SACRAMENTO, N.Y. - As I wrote the headline for this entry, I realized that some people might think I received another nastygram from someone.

Nope. Sorry to give that impression.

But given the relative slowness of snail mail from Western New York to California, I could have another little piece of un-fan mail on the way - little indeed.

The purpose of today's blog (Purpose? He has a purpose today?) is to post a list of names and the street addresses (or post office boxes) of classmates. These are addresses for folks for whom we do not have any email contacts, but who have been sent a letter inviting the folks to July's festivities. Randy Carlson says he thinks the addresses are pretty solid, so...

I see a couple of folks on the list living here in California (Julie Smith and Ingrid Lundgren) who I'm going to get in contact with. I drive by Julie Smith's town on the way to my sailboat every weekend. And when I go to San Francisco, Ingrid Lundgren lives in a very nice part of town where Admiral Fox and I go for lunch frequently.

I don't know if I will be able to cajole either Julie or Ingrid to come to the reunion, but if they do live at the addresses listed, I will try to find out a little about what they are up to and have been doing to share when we all get together.

I know everyone is busy as a cat covering shit (learned that little expression living in Lakewood..), but if you took just a minute and dropped an actual note (with a stamp, amigos, with a stamp) to someone on that list and asked them to get in contact with you, they might respond. Time for the personal touch.

Below are the lists, which, as with other images, you can click on to get a bigger, more more 57-year-old eyes friendly list. Oh! And see if you recognize our classmate in the photo at the bottom...

The fun stuff that classmates do for each other

Monk-e-mail for web
Originally uploaded by Brite light photos.

SACRAMENTO, Calif. - Many of you may already have seen this program or received an email through it, but damn, it is funny.

Randy Carlson sent along a missive to me about my anonymous note using monk-e-mail and it was hilarious, just hilarious. Thanks Randy. You earned a margarita at the reunion for this. Maybe two.

Here's the url:

Monk-e-mail

I've been zapping people all over the university with these emails and so far, everybody is amused. Haven't heard back from our campus president yet, but he's a busy guy.

I did get an email (non-monk-e-version) from Steve Sewell, who sports the same big grin today that he is flashing in our yearbook.

Here's a photo he sent along for posting. If you have a yearbook still around, check out his picture and then this one.



And, perhaps if you need someone to try out the Monk-e-mail program on, you could give Steve an electronic shout. He's on the email list, but I'll make it easier for you - here's his address:

Steve Sewell - ampsone@aol.com

Steve, you can thank me at the reunion, ok?

Yahoo Discussion list for Class of '66 lives!

Yahoo Discussion list
Originally uploaded by Brite light photos.

LAKEWOOD, New York - The Class of '66 discussion list (started by Allan Winger) is alive and well, I discovered today, after Allan walked me through getting re-connected to Yahoo.


Allan

The url is to the right, along with some other links worth taking a look at.

And while I have your attention (sort of) I wanted to mention again that I am very happy to take any submissions (as in stories, photos, graphics, etc...) and post them on this site.

I'm pretty open to submissions. I mean, kee-rist, look at the one I put yesterday slamming me. I'm not shy about publishing what people want to read or see. (Uh-oh! Forget it John Rupp. The Hooters' pictures will remain on my other daily blog, From Where I Sit.)

The graphic today is sort of indicative of the process of the Yahoo site, and also can be what we use here.

You send, Allan posts. You send to me, I post. It's a good system.

Later, amigos.

Gene Pitney's songs set the tone for some much

Gene Pitney
Originally uploaded by Brite light photos.

JAMESTOWN, N.Y. - Gene Pitney just passed away, quietly, at 65, right after giving what the critics say was one of his best performances ever.

His voice wasn't was it was when we listened to his 45 rpm records in the early 60s, but his enthusiasm for performing never stopped.

Here's a link to a story about his passing:

Gene Pitney

Is it me, or do we seem to be losing about one icon a week?

My favorite Gene Pitney song is "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance," though "24 Hours From Tulsa" is close. He wrote tons of other songs for other performers including "Red Rubber Ball," a hopeful tune about a broken-hearted young guy who sees a sunrise and realizes that life will go one.

I sat and watched a sunrise one morning overlooking Chautauqua Lake with that tune blaring out of the radio in my mother's yellow 1966 Pontiac Tempest Lemans after a difficult evening with a young lady who had dropped me like a hot rock.

"Now I know you're not the only starfish in the sea,
If I never hear your name again it's all the same to me,
I think it's gonna be alright, yes the worst is over now,
the morning sun is shining like a red rubber ball."

It might not be Dylan Thomas, but it's poetry anyway.

I'm going to honor Gene Pitney in my tiny way by learning to play a few of his tunes on my guitar. I've practiced some chords and sung of his verses, but my God that man had a set of vocal chords.

Gene had lots of other songs, his "Town Without Pity," perhaps burned into my memory the most. It was played as a "slow dance" a lot and because it was so slow and so melodic, even I could grab the hand of Linda Hansen or Sue Kettle or Sally Smith and get away with a twirl on the gym floor without tripping.

Here's the lyrics to Red Rubber Ball and Town Without Pity.

Oh! And one not-too-quick thank you to all the folks who sent me personal emails and posted messages at the end of yesterday's entry about the nasty gram letter I received.

I will, "Blog on" until the reunion and beyond, too. Can you imagine the legends we are going to create in July?

Cheers.

Town With Pity

When you're young and so and love as we
And bewildered by the world we see
Why do people hurt us so
Only those in love would know
What a Town Without Pity can do..

If we stop to gaze upon a star
People talk about how bad we are...
Ours is not an easy age
We're like tigers in a cage
What a Town Without Pity can do..

The young have problems Many problems
We need an understanding heart..
Why don't they help us, try to help us
Before this clay and granite planet falls apart...

Take these eager lips and hold me fast..
I'm afraid this kind of joy can't last
How can we keep love alive
How can anything survive
When these little minds tear you in two..
What a town Without Pity can do..

How can we keep love alive
How can anything survive
When these little minds tear you in two..
What a town Without Pity can do

Red Rubber Ball

I should have known you'd bid me farewell
There's a lesson to be learned from this and I learned it very well
Now I know you're not the only starfish in the sea
If I never hear your name again, it's all the same to me

And I think it's gonna be all right
Yeah, the worst is over now
The mornin' sun is shinin' like a red rubber ball

You never cared for secrets I'd confide
For you I'm just an ornament, somethin' for your pride
Always runnin', never carin', that's the life you live
Stolen minutes of your time were all you had to give

And I think it's gonna be all right
Yeah, the worst is over now
The mornin' sun is shinin' like a red rubber ball

The story's in the past with nothin' to recall
I've got my life to live and I don't need you at all
The roller coaster ride we took is nearly at an end
I bought my ticket with my tears, that's all I'm gonna spend

And I think it's gonna be all right
Yeah, the worst is over now
The mornin' sun is shinin' like a red rubber ball

Oh, oh, oh
I think it's gonna be all right
Yeah, the worst is over now
The mornin' sun is shinin' like a red rubber ball

Nasty fan mail suggests shortage of Zoloft in NY

Nasty envelope
Originally uploaded by Brite light photos.

SACRAMENTO, Calif. - I had a stack of mail two-feet tall awaiting me at the Journalism Dept. this morning, the result of not going near campus for nearly a month.

God, it felt good, too, to stay away.

But, in among stacks of announcements of lectures I wouldn't attend even if paid, come-ons for new textbooks, and the occasional brochure for new computer stuff, there was a first-class letter with the handwritten envelope you see in the photo here, postmarked March 7.

Handwritten envelopes in 2006 are such a rarity. Usually such an envelope would contain a personal note from a former student who had landed a great job and wanted to tell me all about it. Thank-you notes for letters of recommendation usually come in that size envelope with handwritten addresses, too. This one had a Buffalo, N.Y. postmark, which was a tip-off it probably wasn't from a former student. A few of my students over the years have traveled east, but the ones that do, usually head to Washington D.C. or New York City.

But, well, the brief note inside certainly turned out to be personal.

Here's the entirety of what was inside the envelope, folded quite tightly:



Ouch!

If I was sensitive, that nasty-gram would send me to either the wine jug or the Prozac bottle in a heartbeat. Maybe both. Well, not Prozac, because I don't have any or have ever had any, or... Never mind. Let's move along...

But I am not really that sensitive. Too many years in the news business, I suppose. One letter to the editor some years ago suggested that I go back to college and get a degree in journalism.I didn't take that letter too seriously either, because the letter writer misspelled both journalism and college. And it was from a high school teacher. Ouch again.

But in this case, well, I have never been able to take anonymous letters very seriously. They are just so, so, so, ummmmmm, chickenshit?

Wait! I'm sorry, let me amend that. That's not fair to the patriotic poultry population of America. (I know, I know, it was an obvious joke, but sometimes obvious works best. Watch Jon Stewart on the Daily Show.)

By not signing their name, or putting a return address, the whole criticism falls pretty flat.

So, sorry Ms. or Mr. anonymous former-classmate. I suggest you simply don't read this blog if you find my musings frankly, well, not amusing. And please, please, follow through on that awful threat to boycott the 40th reunion of the Class of '66. Your presence would be missed, though, only if we knew who you were. What a conundrum!

In that vein, I'm giving the envelope and note to some of our criminal justice, CSI-type students on campus for them to do some detective work. I mean, the handwriting is distinctive and virtually every computer printer in America leaves a signature now, a signature that is invisible to the naked eye. (That signature was included as a public safety measure many years before 9-11, so don't blame The Patriot Act.)

I am just kidding about the criminal-justice students. But I do want to offer my sincere thanks to the writer of the note for reminding me that this reunion is about, well, the Class of '66 of Southwestern Central High School. All of us.

We all had our faults in 1966. We all have faults in 2006. Mine is sometimes not knowing when to stop writing and shut up.

Soooooo...

Buena suerte (or bon chance) classmates and amigos.

I hope to see everyone in July, all critics included.

He drove like a madman & always watched my back

John Rupp
Originally uploaded by Brite light photos.

BURLINGTON, Vermont - Back in that halcyon final year of high school - and for the next couple of years - I witnessed John Rupp drive his automobiles at speeds that didn't just defy New York state traffic laws, they sometimes defied the laws of physics.

But in all of that time - save one - he and his vehicles came through unscathed, though people he passed (frequently on the wrong side of the road or on the shoulder) or people driving in the other direction, probably needed oxygen or a double dose of their nitroglycerin after the encounter.

When John dropped out of college in Florida and I dropped out of Villanova at the end of the fall 1967 semester, the plan was to make some money and go to the 1968 Olympics in Mexico City. What a grand adventure that was going to be! We would be like Alexander Scott and Kelly Robinson from I Spy!

But then we met these girls at the Gloves and, well, there went that idea.

Adios Mexico! It took me 30 more years to finally make it there. And I can't even remember the girls from then that we were so truly madly deeply in love with!

Today, I found out that John has been battling cancer for the last few years. In typical Rupp fashion, he didn't tell me, or very many other people. But it's gotten more serious now - and he is probably sooooooo pissed off at me for publishing this, that it's a good thing he's propped up in a chair in his house in Burlington, Vermont, yelling at the morons on the Fox Nut Network.

At least that's what he was doing this morning when I called and chatted with him. He was in pretty good spirits, said the drugs had the pain under control and if he wasn't in pain, the drugs would have him laid out cold.

We are all at the age where things like cancers and other illnesses are catching up to us. Still it's a shock to hear it.

At Snug Harbor one summer night in 1967 or 1968 - the same night that John's mother's red '65 Mustang went airborne into a ditch - John came dancing across the floor with a lady friend to warn me that my ex-girlfriend was in the bar. She was looking for me because she wanted to deliver a message. The last message had been a pitcher of beer dumped on my head at the Pastime in Lakewood, so he and I beat feet out of the bar and into the night, laughing.

We watched each other's backs a lot in those days.

Today, I can't watch John's back from California, and I feel kind of helpless. But I thought I could at least post his contact information here, in case you want to send him a letter, telling him how much trouble he is going to be in if he doesn't come to our Class of '66 Reunion in a few months.

It's just few months, Kelly, and we (the entire Class of '66) insist that you and your wife Paula bring your cute four-year-old daughter, too.

We'll see you then, amigo.

Contact information:

John Rupp and Paula Provencher
201 Brand Farm Drive South
Burlington, VT 05403
ph: 802-658-3640

John's email: johnrupp@mail.com
Paula's email: udabest@hotmail.com

State of the Reunion message from Randy Carlson

State of the Reunion message
Originally uploaded by Brite light photos.

JAMESTOWN, New York - I hope that these shots taken of the documents sent to me from Randy Carlson are all readable... If you have a problem, just click on them which should take you to the original web page where they are posted.

There you can make them bigger, download them or, well, whatever you want.

The photo/document above is Randy's state of the Reunion message (clever, very clever R...).

And here's the list of who has made reservations:



And here's who we are still looking for.



Randy and his committee have done a great job of wrassling all this stuff and deserve a hand - and a few drinks - at our first informal event in Bemus Point.

You can let him win at golf, too, if you want, but that might be going a little too far.

I had a file shot of Tom Wrinn - one of people we are looking for - so I'm posting that in case you run into a guy who looks just Tom, but 40 years older. Of course, he might sport a Mohawk or have a beard and/or an earring.

Tom?

A contributed photo & story from Randy Carlson

Ireland photo with Randy Carlson
Originally uploaded by Brite light photos.

DUBLIN, Ireland - No, this is not the 2006 American Ryder cup team enjoying a pre-match practice round at the K Club. The site is in Ireland, at the Royal Dublin Golf Club, May of 2005. But the players are more a hack then a crack golf group.

The cast from left to right is Rick Brown, former SWCS teacher (who will be golfing with the Class of '66 at Chautauqua and probably attending the informal events), Paul Hedin “Class of 67” architect at Habiterra who personally knows the Morris sisters (that’s for Mike’s benefit), moi (John Giacco would be so proud) during one of the rest periods when I wasn’t searching the gorse for one of my errant shots, Bill Evans, former Jamestown area Pizza Hut owner, and last, but not least, Tony Barone who used to own the Lakewood Drug Store back in the day.

I sent this to Mike to follow up on his junior class post and to give him a SWCS-related topic where he didn’t have to do any heavy lifting. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind similar submissions from other classmates.

Looking forward to July, see you then.

Being the son of the school principal

Van Swearingen
Originally uploaded by Brite light photos.

JAMESTOWN, New York - I don't know if Van Swearingen will be among us this summer at the reunion of the Class of '66, but I remember being acutely aware in high school that he was the son of the principal.

Son of Cheese, that awful nickname we had for Mr. Swearingen.

It wasn't that Van was likely to say something to dear old dad. Van was good guy I remember, but had a certain sadness about him, perhaps the burden of his dad being the principal. Maybe it something else like seasonal affective disorder. God knows I had it during those long winter months. (And I still do. Why do you think I'm so fixated on living in the tropics?)

My mother was a teacher, a 4th grade teacher at R.R. Rogers school in Jamestown, a school largely populated by Puerto Rican immigrant children who spoke a very staccato Spanish, precious little of which she could understand.

I'm not entirely sure what that has to do with Van Swearingen being the son of Cloise E Swearingen, except that it jumped into my mind as I thought about my mother getting to know many of the SWCS teachers through various teacher functions around Jamestown.

I never had a chance walking into a new classroom. The teachers all knew that I was Evelyn F. Fitzgerald's son and also what her expectations were for me. It all started with Robert Lamp in the sixth grade and I was still dealing with it in senior year with Harry Robie and Hubie Davis.

It took me several years in high school to figure that one out, too.

So I wonder what kind of expectations the teachers had of Van, son of the boss so to speak? I remember Van did very well in school, and his photo pops up in various athletic photos. A well-rounded guy.

Let's hope Van makes it to the reunion. I want to buy him a drink in honor of his dad who put up with all of us.

Staging photographs at our 40th Reunion

The Five
Originally uploaded by Brite light photos.

JAMESTOWN, New York - When I saw this shot in the yearbook, I realized that this (and more than a few others) could be easily staged again and maybe even put together into some kind of publication after the reunion: sort of a then and now.

I don't know that the photo I ran a few days ago (of the guys in drag) should be restaged, but then, that might be the hit of the whole party. Cast your ballots: restage or not?

But this one is a classic high school photo, probably taken down at the snack bar area next to the football field. I had a white raincoat just like the one on Randy Carlson in the middle. Was it a London Fog? Good grief, the things you remember.

If those young faces aren't familiar, they are (right to left): Dan Loucks, Dave Carlson, Randy, John Schultz and Jim Nelson.

Yearbooks have fallen out of vogue at most schools and colleges. Every few years, my university has a fundraiser type approach me to say how wonderful it would be to have a yearbook. Wonderful until I tell them what it will cost to get it shot, organized and printed.

More than a few schools and colleges have gone to video yearbooks, but even those are complicated to put together and don't have the same look and feel as our red-covered Centralian which I've been hauling out on a regular basis for nearly a year now.

Here's another photo from the Centralian that might be reshot sometime at the reunion, provided both Linda and Marty attend.

We were all divided by age and class

Juniors at SWCS
Originally uploaded by Brite light photos.

JAMESTOWN, N.Y. - The junior class of SWCS (Class of '67, now) merited their own page in our yearbook.

Ok, it wasn't our yearbook, it belonged to the school. But how many of you bought a yearbook every year? I don't see many hands out there? I think I did get one when I was in 7th grade. ("Cherish those memories," my mother probably said when she handed me the cash to buy one. I don't cherish a single memory from 7th grade. Sorry, Mom.)

The photo with today's blog reminded me that when we were seniors, juniors well, seemed sooooo junior to our exalted status.

For me, that exalted status was largely political as I remember being thumped on the wrestling mat rather thoroughly by a few juniors. And out on the track, there were a couple of juniors who gave me good races in the 220. And in French? Jaysus! Or should I say, "Mon Dieu?"

But age segregation was the rule of law, unless you slipped up and were held back for a year. I notice that in one junior home room photo, Art Johnson is standing in the back row, but I'm sure he was in our classes for most of our high school years.

In California, in many schools there's much more mix-and-match going in all classes, all dependent on the student's ability.

That would have had me graduate in 1964 in some subjects. In math, I might still be sitting in class on the Hunt Road campus. I believe I have a nightmare about that from time to time.

But remember how quickly all that senior-junior stuff changed a few years after graduation? Suddenly, the juniors weren't part of another caste.

In 2006, we can look forward to all those juniors picking up their Social Security checks just a year behind us. And they probably are getting hip replacements, face lifts and buying Rogaine at a clip very close to that of exalted seniors.

But those sophomores... Well ... Will they ever catch up?

Yearbook photos that just keep on giving

A photo in search of a caption
Originally uploaded by Brite light photos.

JAMESTOWN, NY - I'm guessing that no one in this photo ever ran for public office. Had they, well, do I need to go there?

I believe this was some part of some basketball, inter-class game but whenever I thumb through the yearbook and see it, I always pause and wonder what these guys told their kids when they got ahold of the SWCS yearbook - or now grandkids, I suppose.

Although now that I think about it, anyone see that photo featuring Barry Bonds?

Barry Bonds as Paula Abdul

Anyway, can anyone out there name all six of these beauties from our yearbook? I'm pretty sure I see Lou Acquisto and Bill Taylor on the right and I think Bill's younger brother Pete on the other end of this chorus line. And maybe Gary Zebrowski? But I can't be certain.

In other news, the countdown clock for the Class of '66 40th reunion is getting louder, and yesterday Randy Carlson received an email from Dotti Holdsworth who says she will be there with her husband. Here is her yearbook shot from 1966, one she's probably happy to show the kids and grandkids.


Dotti (Holdsworth) Carlson

I don't know what number Dotti and her husband's attendance brings us up to, but I hope to sometime soon to publish a full list of who has committed to coming to all - or part - of the bash July 14-16.

Is it really only four months away?

The challenge of riding a bicycle around loose dogs

Not a friendly face
Originally uploaded by Brite light photos.

LAKEWOOD, New York - Along West Summit Avenue, when riding my bicycle home from 'downtown' Lakewood, from right at a corner we called 'Dead Man's Curve' and until your cleared Craig Fransen's house (the beautiful stone place past Stoneman Avenue), there were at least four half-crazed dogs that just loved to run out and grab your pantleg as you rode by.

If you were lucky it was just your pantleg and not your leg itself.

The Beebe family (Alan?) had a black Labrador that was especially ornery and thought I deserved to be knocked off my Schwinn and onto my rear on the pavement. I would pedal like a maniac as I approached his house, lifting my feet up at the last instant and praying that I would coast beyond his range of running.

Usually, a string of profanity that cost a dozen Hail Mary's at confession would come pouring out of my mouth - as if the damned dog could understand what I was saying about its lineage.

It made me feel better, though.

One rainy afternoon, there was a beautiful - and very large - tan boxer waiting for me, sitting on the steps a few doors east of my Uncle Gordy Puls' house.

And I was just tired enough that I was not going to try to sprint past the dog, who came out routinely after me and was a serious biter.

Instead, as I came pumping by - and he came out running - I swung my foot right into his head with a resounding thump that send him yelping in one direction and me crashing in the other.

Lying on the pavement, I expected to become a bruised chew toy for the pooch, but I wasn't - for the pooch.

The fellow who owned the beast came running out of his house and gave me hell for kicking his prized, if slightly insane and totally vicious - pet.

He, I'm sure, understood what I suggested about his lineage and what he could do with his goddamned boxer. I'm not sure what I suggested is anatomically even possible but it made him even madder to hear it.

It wasn't too long after that the Lakewood began enforcing a leash law for dogs and daytime was suddenly almost safe for bike riders whizzing past dogs. But at night, many of the same dogs were let loose once the sun went down and even walking could be very interesting.

I never had trouble with that boxer again, though.

Standing on the corner, watching the world go by

Corner of Cherry & 3rd Streets
Originally uploaded by Brite light photos.

JAMESTOWN, New York - I'm sure that 35-plus years ago, I stood on this corner a lot, long before the wheelchair ramps were installed and those cute lamp posts were put in.

We have those same lamp posts right outside my house here in Sacramento, though I don't have any of that white stuff I see on the ground.

It was on Third Street in Jamestown that everything seemed to be: the Carnahan's, the Eckerd Drug Store, Bigelow's Department Store - even the jewelry store next to Bigelow's where I bought my first wife's engagement ring (on credit, of course). We'll let that whole part of my life ride for now.

Just before I left New York for points west in 1970, I trundled about the downtown streets of Jamestown working for the Crown Dental Laboratory delivering packages here and there to dentists like Drs. Greenbaum who had offices over the top of the Woolworth store. I don't remember very many elevators in the buildings. In fact, except for the Hotel Jamestown and Bigelow's, I don't remember any.

But don't put too much creedence in that. I'm also the one who couldn't remember Pauline Lopus from the SWCS Guidance Department. Plenty of you did. (Thanks for the emails.)

Third Street was also the auto cruising spot, I remember, though the Jamestown Police were not always too friendly to our repeated passes through downtown along 3rd Street.

Anyone remember what was on this corner, circa 1966? I'm sure it wasn't a savings and loan branch with cute benches out front. If there had been benches, I'm sure I would've spent some of my time camped out on one.

A quick link to see the weather in Lakewood NY

Lakewood weather link
Originally uploaded by Brite light photos.

LAKEWOOD, N.Y. - I added a new link to this web page today - a quick button that takes you directly to the Wunderground.com site for Lakewood.

I already have the page bookmarked on this computer (along with Sacramento, San Francisco, Puerto Vallarta and Valois, N.Y. I tend to linger on the Puerto Vallarta page.).

For the past two summers in New York, I've used the radar function on the site to help me plan each day - sometimes hour by hour. Two years ago, when it rained like hell all the time, I would scan the radar for a weather window and then charge out of the house when an hour or so of sun seemed likely. My neighbors all started watching me for cues, heading out on the lake when they heard my outboard start.

I thought the site might come in handy when it gets closer to July and the reunion and the hard decisions we need to face: Raincoat? Shorts? T-shirt? Windbreaker?

It's nearly spring already in California and I know that false spring is probably starting to tickle Chautauqua County. I remember getting all excited this time of the year as the ice would leave the lake suddenly and the grass would start appearing in patches as snow melted. Visions of my ski boat skimming across the water would be dancing in my brain while I was supposed to be paying attention to Ed Smith in physics. Ed would catch me daydreaming a lot.

Then, a blizzard would come in (usually around Easter) and that was the end of that daydream until May when the snow really was gone.

More on daydreams another time. But for now, hit the link and then plug in your zip code, too for a forecast.