Article by Carole Ashkinaze AND Poem by Bonnie Sanabria (scroll down)

 

After 25 years, class reunion stands as a testament of faith in friendship

The Atlanta Constitution

July 17, 1987

Columnist Carole Ashkinaze comments on her 25th high school class reunion.

 

BALDWIN, N.Y. - The young waiter stood gape-mouthed outside the banquet room where the Malverne High School Class of 1962 reunion was going on, looking at the name tags that had not yet been picked up. "Excuse me," he said, as I approached the registration table, looking for mine. "Is that," he asked, indicating a carefully lettered name tag nearby, "the Tom Gulotta?"

That said it all for those of us who had never imagined we would reach this point: 25 years out of high school, and deeply entrenched in what we used to disparage as "the establishment."

The Tom Gulotta? "Sure is," I said, smiling at the boy, no older than Tommy when he had run for president of the student council.

"Is he coming?" the boy asked, excitedly.

"I'd stake my life on it," I laughed, confident that the top-ranking elected official in New York's wealthiest county would not snub the first constituency he ever had.

The name may not mean much in Atlanta - yet. But on Long Island, the gangly youth who had won oratorical honors in high school is now as familiar, and as likely to make the 6 o'clock news, as Ronald Reagan. As Nassau County executive, he holds what may be the third most powerful elective office in his state (after governor, and mayor of neighboring New York). Nobody has more influence over the day-to-day lives and pocketbooks of the 1.3 million people who live in Nassau than Gulotta who, after 18 years in lesser state and local posts, ascended to the top job in January.

And we were there. We were the girls who had helped him learn his lines for the class play and the boys who had completed his football passes. And we could remember all the way back to a junior high school election when, for lack of campaign issues, four male candidates decided to let their "beards" grow out. At 14, Tommy managed to produce more peach fuzz than some but lost to Roy Kushel, who ended up looking like one of the Smith Brothers. By 16, Tommy headed the Student Government Association but had his heart broken by a girls' softball champion with laughing eyes and glistening auburn hair. I know. We cried on each others' shoulders, Tommy and I, after Roy failed to ask me to the prom.

Our waiter didn't ask, but the people clinking glasses in the other room also included the Marian Silber, founding partner of a big Manhattan law firm that hit on the idea of specializing in the most thankless kind of law - defending individuals and institutions accused of negligence and medical malpractice - and became one of the hottest in the country. It seems only yesterday Marian sashayed across the field on the "Mulettes" kick line - a half-time attraction at all home games of the Malverne Mules.

A lot of us were also awed by Michael Ziegler, who had overcome his problems with higher math; he made a pile in construction and retired two years ago at 40. By Richie Sawyer, an honest-to-goodness Hollywood producer. By Bonnie Sanabria, a cut-up in English class and now an English teacher herself, who delivered a rhyming reminiscence about our school days that had us howling with laughter. By Gracie Comerford, the fresh-scrubbed, pigtailed bobby-soxer, obviously a late bloomer, who had matured into a blonde bombshell. And by the brainy Isabel Richmond, who missed the party but was the success story on everyone's lips: Driven by her failure to land a teaching job in the male-dominated world of academia after earning her Ph.D., friends reported, she had gone back to school - and became a brain surgeon.

Many of us had come with our attention on ourselves, worried about extra pounds or wrinkles. We needn't have, for the fun was in seeing not the superficial changes, but our faith in one another confirmed. "Why is it," the greying Tommy Gulotta, always the politician, asked me, "that we're the only ones who haven't aged?" I'll bet he said that to all the girls.

Ashkinaze was an editorial writer for The Constitution.

Copyright 1987, 1998 The Atlanta Journal and The Atlanta Constitution

 

 

 

 

THE CLASS OF 1962

By Bonnie Sanabria

Read at the 25th Reunion, June 1987

 

Twenty-five years have really flown by—

When you think about this, you may want to cry!

But, instead, let’s celebrate our high school years,

Laughing together, instead of shedding tears.

 

Malverne High was the center of our world;

It’s hard to believe that you were just a boy or a girl.

We thought we knew oh so very much—

That to grasp life’s brass ring, we’d just reach out and touch!

 

Memories are now flowing through our brains,

But by today’s standards, we were hardly insane!

When we reflected and commented on life’s philosophy

We rather simply stated the phrase “Might be”!

 

Do you remember the teachers we had?

A few of them were really quite mad!

We still have an image of Messinger singing on cue,

All the words to “Gypsy’s”-- “Let Me Entertain You.”

 

In Mr. Johnson’s “fish tank” we often fooled around

Counting the times he said “Put your pencils down”!

And in Social Studies we’d get a few laughs

At the expense of the great historian Wilmot DeGraff!

 

Mr. Frank would often turn beet red

‘Cause we didn’t listen to the things that he said.

Now, we women can appreciate all the work

To put on her makeup—yes, our own Mrs. Tuerk!

 

We wonder if Mr. Schoenberg ever saw us

Climbing out the back window of his office in Chorus?

Did you know that Miss Lloyd, our spinster English teacher

Got married on a cruise by the ship’s very own preacher?

 

Senor Fontana implored us only to speak

En Español—it’s “semana”—not “week”!

Art was where we hung out with one Mrs. Grote;

She’d often give “A’s” and surely drew our votes.

 

Inez Buck was always there for us

Inspecting our blue gym suits and raising a fuss.

Of course, we can’t forget Coaches Fuge and Neerie

Whose teams were victorious—what a query!

 

Our Principal, Mr. John K. Archer, was also known as “Jake,”

In homeroom he pounded on the chimes—we thought our eardrums would break!

Then, a new recruit came into our midst,

Youthful Salvatore Zaccarro was added to the list!

 

Mr. Besse, our mentor, is last but not least;

His dynamic influence on us all will never cease.

All in all, they were quite a motley crew,

And, in spite of our jest, to them all great credit is due!

 

Now on to the things we did at the time—

As we look back to them, there’s no reason or rhyme.

To single out an individual is really not fair—

But surely we recall Grace Comerford’s GREEN HAIR!

 

And, of course, our Class Officers who worked so very hard—

Ernie, Julie, Ruth and Charlie—all ran that extra yard!

The Cheerleaders and the Mulettes performed at games for us,

With teased hair full of Ozone spray that hardly ever got mussed!

 

Sportnight ’62 shown a very bright beam

With Blue’s Disney characters and Orange’s Mexican theme.

The Prom was another gala event—

Dressed in “Southern Splendor” is how we went.

 

Did you get a chance to see “West Side Story”?

Only winners of the drawing experienced that glory.

Sororities and “frats” were more acceptable in those days;

Membership was coveted in so many ways.

 

Many of us had a dramatic side—

In “The King and I” and “Our Town” we took great pride.

Others among us were into student government and law;

Tom Gulotta now runs the County of Nassau!

 

We know this one will blow a few gaskets—

The Student Police saying “Turn only at the baskets”!

Of other activities there was quite an array;

Were you on the Oracle Staff or in the Band did you play?

 

And what about the garb that we did wear?

Girls with cardigans backwards, straight skirts and Keds we do fear!

Also, nylon stockings held up by garter belts;

Yes, the females were oh so svelte!

 

And guys, not to leave you out—this is what we heard—

In your white socks and black shoes—you were the original NERDS!

However, the fellas who were supposed to be “cool”

Rolled up a pack of “cigs” in their T-shirt sleeves in school!

 

Remember our music?—we sometimes held hands when we danced;

We also did Twist, Jerk and Monkey and otherwise pranced.

And when Johnny Mathis did “Heavenly” croon,

We sighed and got misty—some of us swooned.

 

From Woodfield, Lindner and Davison we did hail;

Then on to Malverne High to blaze our trail.

Our school song, “Malverne, Our Alma Mater Fair”

Was a tune we did sing playing “Thumper” while guzzling our beer!

 

Perhaps we’ll have Reunion Number Fifty—

Those in attendance, though wrinkled, will look nifty.

But for tonight we’ve dieted and exercised to look our best on view—

Are any of us wondering, “Who the hell are you?”

 

We owe a debt of thanks to the ’62 Reunion Committee—

Phyliss, Linda, Dorothy, Paula and Carole—still all so very pretty!

For months on end they’ve devoted energy galore

Planning this great event for us, we appreciate them all the more!

 

These memories are but a few we can recall;

There is neither time nor space to mention them all—

But do keep in mind as we reflect on tonight

That the CLASS OF ’62 is still “kickin” with all our might!

 

 

 

~Written on the Eve of June 24, 1987, right before the 25^th Reunion,

after two telephone conversations with The Committee~

~With the fondest of memories,

Bonita [Bonnie] Sanabria