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Miriam Translateur

I have had several people contact me on how  Miriam Translateur was doing admist all the turmoil in Israel. I emailed her and received the following response.

"I’ve been in touch with several classmates & more each day are getting in touch.  The caring and concern is really heartwarming & appreciated.

So far I’m safe.  We’re living in a horrible nightmare which is so incomprehensible.  I have no words…

One of our relatives was murdered 3 days ago on his kibbutz in the southern part of the country by terrorists.

My grandson has been called up to the reserves & he’s in the south.

Our kibbutz is hosting 250 people from a kibbutz in the south whose members were either murdered, taken hostage, or houses burned to the ground.

The atrocities are horrendous.  

As I write there’s rocket fire in the south & also from Lebanon.  I live ½ hour from Haifa, so we are doing OK.

Hoping for better days…

Love, Mim"

Zoom Reunion

New notification from Hirsch Wise.  He would like to get as many of our class to participate as possible.See the notice after this for more information.

These Zoom reunions are normally on the first Sunday of the month starting @ Noon. It will open at 11:45am. Early birds may come on then. 

A Zoom link will be sent to you on Friday before.  

  • Only those who RSVP that you will attend will get the link. 

  • If you forget to send an RSVP, you can email me at> up until 11:30am on the 12th. 

Woodward Class of 1962 Dive Date

Carol Jo Meier started our dive dates several years ago.  Members of the class have been getting together on the second Tuesday every other month.  Dive dates are open to all class members and members of other classes who wish to attend. We will be having all future dive dates at "The Indian Mound Cafe in Norwood".    The dive dates are normally scheduled for the second Tueday of odd numbered months amd start at 12:30 pm.  We use Evite to send out the dive invitations so that we can obtain a number of how many will attend.  If you would like to be put on the dive list, email:  


Long ago and far away, in a land that time forgot,
Before the days of Dylan, or the dawn of Camelot.
There lived a race of innocents, and they were you and me.
 For Ike was in the White House in that land where we were born,
Where navels were for oranges, and Peyton Place was porn.

We longed for love and romance, and waited for our Prince,
Eddie Fisher married Liz, and no one's seen him since.

We danced to 'Little Darlin,' and sang to 'Stagger Lee'
And cried for Buddy Holly in the Land That Made Me, Me.

Only girls wore earrings then, and 3 was one too many,
And only boys wore flat-top cuts, except for Jean McKinney.

And only in our wildest dreams did we expect to see
A boy named George with Lipstick, in the Land That Made Me, Me.

We fell for Frankie Avalon, Annette was oh, so nice,
And when they made a movie, they never made it twice..

We didn't have a Star Trek Five, or Psycho Two and Three,
Or Rocky-Rambo Twenty, in the Land That Made Me, Me.

Miss Kitty had a heart of gold, and Chester had a limp,
And Reagan was a Democrat whose co-star was a chimp.

We had a Mr. Wizard, but not a Mr. T,
And Oprah couldn't talk yet, in the Land That Made Me, Me.

We had our share of heroes, we never thought they'd go,
At least not Bobby Darin, or Marilyn Monroe.

For youth was still eternal, and life was yet to be,
And Elvis was forever in the Land That Made Me, Me.

We'd never seen the rock band that was Grateful to be Dead,
And Airplanes weren't named Jefferson , and Zeppelins were not Led.

And Beatles lived in gardens then, and Monkees lived in trees,
Madonna was Mary, in the Land That Made Me, Me.

We'd never heard of microwaves, or telephones in cars,
And babies might be bottle-fed, but they were not grown in jars.

And pumping iron got wrinkles out, and 'gay' meant fancy-free,
And dorms were never co-Ed in the Land That Made Me, Me.

We hadn't seen enough of jets to talk about the lag,
And microchips were what was left at the bottom of the bag.

And hardware was a box of nails, and bytes came from a flea,
And rocket ships were fiction in the Land That Made Me, Me.

T-Birds came with portholes, and side shows came with freaks,
And bathing suits came big enough to cover both your cheeks.

And Coke came just in bottles, and skirts below the knee,
And Castro came to power near the Land That Made Me, Me.

We had no Crest with Fluoride, we had no Hill Street Blues,
We had no patterned pantyhose or Lipton herbal tea,
Or prime-time ads for those 'dysfunctions' in the Land That Made Me, Me.

There were no golden arches, no Perrier to chill,
And fish were not called Wanda, and cats were not called Bill

And middle-aged was 35 and old was forty-three,
And ancient were our parents, in the Land That Made Me, Me.

 But all things have a season, or so we've heard them say,
And now instead of Maybelline we swear by Retin-A.

They send us invitations, to join AARP,
We've come a long way, baby, from the Land That Made Me, Me.

So now we face a brave new world in slightly larger jeans,
And wonder why they're using smaller print in magazines.
And we tell our children's children of the way it used to be,
Long ago and far away in the Land That Made Me, Me.


If you didn't grow up in the fifties,
You missed the greatest time in history,

As all of you know Cleon J Wingard was the Principal at Woodward for the whole time we were there. The following link will take you a tribute to Mr. Wingard on the class of 1965's web site.      Cleon J. Wingard

Click here for an article and video on the new Woodward Career Technical High School football stadium featuring a glimpse of the Pete Johnston memorial.

We have lost touch with quite a few of our class members.  If you know the contact information for any of those we are missing, please email  The missing list on the web site and the missing list that was recently mailed to you may be different.  The web site marks anyone who has not registered on the web site as missing.