Memories of Norlyn Katzen

Jamaica High School, class of 1960

 

We went our separate ways during our years at Jamaica High. Norlie, more sociable than I, had many friends and sparkled in school plays while I hated everything and spent four years, a sullen mini-rebel who smoked unfiltered Lucky Strikes in the school bathroom and went down the up staircase. We bumped into each other in Goose Pond Park one afternoon around the time of graduation and were curious to know how the other changed, or remained the same.

 

Norlyn was 18 when she ventured to live in Greenwich Village. A year or so later, she welcomed me to share her large one-room apartment on Christopher Street for some months before I left for Israel. She studied acting with Herbert Bergdorf, singing with Lotte Lenye's New York voice coach, attended drawing classes at the Art Students League and waitressed nights at Phase 2, a village club that featured hopeful jazz musicians and comedians.

 

Everyone should have a friend like Norlyn to witness and share childhood experiences, fantasies, laugh hysterically at nonsense, to have fun together. We were inseparable, intense friends, kindred spirits, in the 7th and 8^th grades when Norlyn transferred to PS 117 from her previous school that only went up to sixth grade. The two of us confided the good points and flaws we saw in each other at our sugar and lemon parties, played hooky, shared our first cigarette, met boys on the sly at the Hillside movie theater on Sutphin Boulevard, off Jamaica Avenue. We also had the same birthday, which made our friendship seem extra special.

 

I stayed at Norlie and Stanley's Brooklyn home in 1973 during a break from Jerusalem, where I still live today. I had the upper bunk in their young daughter Jennifer's bedroom, and I also got to know Stanley's son, Daniel, who lived with them. I held a temporary job then as a dentist assistant and remember one snowy day, the roads were icy, Norlie drove to where I worked to bring me a chicken liver on bagel sandwich.  She was generous, affectionate and loyal to her friends.

 

In 1980, I saw Norlie and Stan during a visit to my late husband Louis's mother in Los Angeles. They had been living on the west coast for a number of years. Norlie and I corresponded, but not regularly. It was a brief meeting. She sent me an Afghan blanket she crocheted, the accompanying note said she thought of me each square. The last time we met was in Jerusalem. The trip to Israel was a 50^th birthday gift from her mother, Elynor. The three of us had lunch at my place and Mrs. Katzen took us out for dinner the next evening. Norlyn said she understood why I love Jerusalem.

 

I was lucky to have had Norlyn for a friend and am grateful for the memories. May she rest in peace.

 

Sylvia Rapoport (Saffer)