The best is yet to be.
Robert Browning
Eddie Clark
Timeline 07:15h Wednesday 01 August 2018
I’ve been thinking about an old friend of mine.
He was a neighborhood kid, one of the gang that moved into the new development built-up behind the old ‘hood.
We probably met in 5th grade. We were very tight through middle school and then, as so often happens, the neighborhood crew dispersed upon entering the broader vista of high school.
He discovered girls well before I did. They always all loved him, forever.
One day, we were probably in 7th grade, he told me he was going home to call his girlfriend on the phone. I remember thinking, ‘but…what for?’ I must’ve asked him how it works. Like, how did he know she was even home? What if she didn’t want to talk right now? What does one say to a girl on the phone? What if her dad picks up?
He was amused by my mystification, and he dialed her number, and there she was. He gave me the phone and said ‘you try’. I sprang back in horror and he smiled and said ‘just talk’. So I did.
And presto, he opened up a whole new wonderful world for me, just like that.
And it was always the same: he was always years ahead of me in experience, even though we were exactly the same age.
I remember one very deep conversation at his kitchen table centering on the all-important topic of pimples. We were both breaking out everywhere and were desperate to find the cure. He said his uncle told him it was all about the oils trapped in the tiny ridges of one’s fingertips. All one had to do was eat greasy foods with a utensil. He demonstrated by using a spoon to eat his potato chips. I was amazed by the breadth and depth of his knowledge (hey, I was thirteen years old). To this day I eat pizza with a knife and fork.
He was the only kid who willingly put down the bat/ball/stick/glove to go home and eat dinner. The rest of us pretended not to hear the call, or know the time of day, in order to squeeze in just one more at-bat. He always knew, and like some responsible elder among us putrid punks he’d just up and leave. Sometimes he’d get razzed for it. When I asked him about it he simply said, ‘I love my family’.
And that in part is who he was. He felt things very deeply, perhaps too much so. He was ahead of his years. He was acutely aware of those around him, those who were also vulnerable, or in pain.
His name was John Vallorosi.
What got me thinking about him? The following email:
“From: William Foley
Sent: Sunday, July 29, 2018 11:51 PM
To: Soos
Subject: strength and perseverance
Hey John,
It is a little late and I am tired and maybe I have had one too many Coronas for a Sunday night but I witnessed something pretty special tonight. Friends invited me to an outdoor concert in Yorktown tonight that was featuring a Chicago tribute band. We set up chairs and blankets, wine and food and waited for the show to begin. It was a beautiful night and everyone was enjoying themselves, listening to the old songs that brought back so many memories. About halfway thru the show someone grabbed me by the shoulder to say hello: it was our classmate Bobby Elsasser. Bobby says I am here with my wife and someone who would love to say hello to you. I say sure Bob lets go; as we are walking to where he is sitting he explains that we are going to say hello to Mrs. Vallorosi, John’s mom. When we arrive Bob introduces me and Mrs. Val is smiling from ear to ear. We speak for a few minutes and talk about what a special person John was and how much he is missed by his family and friends. At this point I am realizing the extreme hardships that this woman has experienced. I am profoundly moved by this 80-year old woman. I am now also realizing that Bob stays in touch with Mrs. Val and has brought her to this concert tonight. And I am realizing that the Friendship John and Bob had continues as Bob still looks out for Mrs. Val.
John, once again this is an example of how special our class is.
I look forward to our 40th.
Bill”
Little Red School House, 1965
4th Grade Class Trip - Vanderbilt Mansion L-R Mark Connor, Mike Donnellan, Lynn Denike, Mike Littleton, Matty Moro, Mark Johnson, Soos, Ronnie Sadler. 1969.
Seniors - Lakeland vs. Panas 1978. L-R: John White, Soos, Tommy Scordato, Mike Perrelle, Kenny DaRos, Gus Sotillo, Johnny Gesson, John Hintze, Sean Mackey, Paul DePaoli, Billy Haviland, John Gaccione, Richie Mellone, Kenny Dahl, Ray Scalone, Jimmy Fleitz.
Senior Cut Day. Mohansic State Park. Crash, Kelly G., ZeZay, Ann A., John Val. June 1978.
The Squad: Debbie V., Cheryl G., Kristie H., Dana S., Michelle G., Ann A.
Tommy Scordato and Paul DePaoli
Kevin Flood
Bruce Kuttruf
“Elrond,” Bruce said. “The Council of Elrond. From Lord of the Rings. It’s the meeting where they decide to destroy the One Ring.”
“Jesus,” Annie said. “None of you got laid in high school, did you?”
Andy Weir- The Martian
Timeline: 15:48h, Tuesday 15 August 2018
Check-it out, check-it out, check-it out:
A very interesting thing happened on the way to the beach last night. Got an email. From a long lost classmate. Most of you will remember his name, perhaps his face, but not a lot else about him. He kinda flew under the radar in high school. Something unusual about him. You’d notice him, then you wouldn’t. Quiet, mellow, yet outgoing. Somber, serious, yet upbeat. Studious, bookish, but still made time for the party circuit. There, yet not there…
He hasn’t been to any of our ReUnions thus far. Seems that life took him in some unexpected directions since good old Panas. Yet, when one thinks about it, and about him, the following is not that surprising, not entirely unexpected.
Turns out he went on to an ivy-league college, east-coast, very nice place, international student body, semi-elite, not too pretentious. Met a girl there. Nice girl. Quiet, unassuming, sweet-natured. They stayed together through their four undergraduate years, and after.
Turns out his girl was minor—er, maybe not so minor—Royalty. Think old, old money, way older than this nouveau phenomenon known as the United States. Think Habsburgs, Rothschild’s, and the Napoleonic Wars. Well, it’s way older than that.
Think Charles the Second, and Louis the Sun King, and Rene Descartes. Well, it’s way older than that.
Think the Dutch East India Company, and the Spanish Armada, and the Battle of Lepanto. Well, it’s way older than that.
Get my drift?
Anyway, this guy, this kid who we all knew, and yet didn’t know, he wants to throw that unique ReUnion party I was referring to earlier, down below. You know, my little pipe-dream: some beachy place, kinda cool locale, laid back vibe, change things up a bit for the 40th?
Well, it’s all of that, except better.
Listen up. Here’s the play:
Our old classmate now has houses, villas, manors, all over the world. Think Porto Cervo, Sardinia; think Cote D’Azur, France; think Basel, Switzerland; think Edinburgh, Scotland; think St. Bart’s in the Caribbean. The list goes on, and on.
He is willing to do the following for you, the Class of 1978, Walter Panas High…are you ready?
We will have full use of his family’s ancient manor house on the coast of Brittany, France. 192 private acres of wild, un-spoilt, extremely pretty country. Older than eld. Original ruins date from the 12th century. Plundered and burned in 1348. Re-built in 1451. Burned down in the 16th century. Rebuilt again. Rinse, lather, repeat. Think of the history, think of the events this place has witnessed…it even has a couple of proprietary ghosts.
On the water, facing the beautiful Bay of Biscay. Moors, cliffs, sandy lanes, monoliths, cobblestone streets. Stables, horses, groomsmen. Private golf course (Yeah, Matty!). Vines de Grape as thick as a man’s thigh, pressed and bottled for onsite consumption only (Yeah, Dre! Yeah, KD! Yeah, Nate!). Five-star, full-time, live-in chef (Yeah, Pauly!). Butlers, chambermaids, gardeners. Heated pools (indoor and outdoor).
It’s on for the weekend of October 6-8, 2018.
Here’s what else he is willing to do (he wishes to remain anonymous until the night of—can you imagine?!?): the first 100 respondents to an upcoming email will be flown-out, on his dime(!!). Two U.S. points of departure, major hubs, east coast and west. Each of us is allowed one guest. Wife, kid, best friend, whatever. One suitcase each. Everything is taken care of: all food, all travel, all accommodation, all….everything.
The only stipulation is that you must be a graduate of the Class of 1978, Walter Panas High School, Cortlandt Manor, NY.
Pretty cool, huh? I sure am glad I sent out that little “what do y’all want to do for a 40th ReUnion?” note two weeks ago. Who’d a thunk?
Sounds pretty good, hey?!? Too good to be true, right?
Well, it is. Too good. To be true.
But I had you there for a minute, right? Admit it.
Sorry. Didn’t mean to get your hopes up. Just felt like playin’ for a bit…hey, I’m on vacation here…it’s raining…I got a little bored….
Here’s the real deal: after much careful deliberation and research by your ever faithful reunion committee we are pleased to announce the following:
WPHS Class of ’78 40th ReUnion
Saturday October 06, 2018
The Westchester Marriott in Tarrytown, New York
More details to come.
(And if you’re out there Mr. Brittany, please call me at your earliest possible convenience).
The Coast of Brittany
Cheryl Gross, Dana Seagraves, Michelle Gaines, The Jersey Shore c.1976
Nouns of Assemblage:
a gang of elk
a murmuration of starlings
a wilderness of monkeys
a clutch of eggs
a coven of witches
a staff of servants
a field of runners
a sheaf of arrows
a cete of badgers
a bench of bishops
a murder of crows
a barren of mules
a muster of peacocks
a stud of mares
a parliament of rooks and owls
a business of ferrets
a nye of pheasants
a sounder of wild boar
-Schott’s Original Miscellany
Lincoln Titus 4th Grade.
Dateline: Tuesday September 24, 2013 09:44h
Good Morning,
This a quick update as we continue the countdown to The Walter Panas High Class of 1978 35th ReUnion on Saturday October 12.
First, thank you for your remarkable response! Ticket sales continue to soar with the ReUnion just 18 days away. People have said we had (have) a tight-knit class. Frankly I thought it was just so much hyperbole, but I am seeing it play out right before my eyes: the responses to the email blasts; individual classmates reaching out to each other after so much time apart; the number of website hits; the Facebook traffic; everything…it is simply fantastic. Thank You!!
I had two interesting conversations this weekend which I thought worth sharing; one was with my wife, another with a ’78 classmate.
The classmate reached out to me with a series of questions and concerns. She is severely on the fence about coming to the ReUnion. She’s not sure if it’s the right time: money, health, travel, kids—all figure into the equation for her. She’s having a tough time; let’s just say that life isn’t exactly a bowl of cherries right now. She is also concerned about seeing a large group of people she hasn’t seen in 30+ years. She is more than a little frightened about what will happen when/if she walks in that ballroom door.
Which ties right in to the conversation I had with my wife:
Her: “What are you doing? You didn’t even like high school…other than your silly little website you are completely out of touch with these people. You don’t even really know them anymore… You hate crowds, you’re introverted and anti-social…Why are you doing this?”
Me: “Thanks, Hon.”
But she raises a valid point: besides much (all?) of what she said being true…why am I going? It got me thinking, and here’s what I came up with (after some pondering):
The ‘present’ can be painful, in more ways than one: our kids are about to, or actually are, leaving home. Our parents are about to, or actually are, leaving…earth. Work isn’t getting any easier, at all. The body, to put it mildly, is rapidly changing. I look in the mirror in the morning and I’m like “who the %*#$! is that!?” (Can someone please tell me what a skin tag is?).
The ‘future’ is a bit scary; it also can hurt some (or the thought of it can. Retirement? I don’t think so…)
They call the 50’s middle age, but it’s really a bit later than that. In clock terms, noontime is the middle of the day. At 53, we’re really talking about after-dinner-drinks…it’s somewhere between desert and bedtime. And we all know we can’t turn the clock back. Or can we…?
I’m going to my 35th ReUnion because I can. Here’s what is going to happen: I will drive up to the venue on that Saturday night. I’m going to have butterflies (that doesn’t happen too often these days); I’m gonna be nervous, but a good nervous. I will walk into that hotel, and look around for our ballroom. I’ll see a face, in the lobby or parking lot, a familiar face from the distant past. And my heart will flip-flop: I will remember. And when I open the door to that ballroom it will be full of similar faces, faces of friends that I knew a long time ago, and always will know. There will be faces I knew from grade school, and from little league, and from the neighborhood, and from high school, and elsewhere…
And I will be Home, again. And I promise you, I will be amazed at the outpouring of affection, and friendship, and love. I’ve been there, and I know.
And that is why I’m going, and that is why I am doing what I do.
Hope to see you there.
Panas vs. Lakeland October 1977
Donna Duchene, Karen Vangor, Jill Tully, Rosemary Repicky
Lisa Cozolino
The Bonfire - Homecoming - Scord and Rocky
Miriam Popp's T-Bird: Miriam, Linda Ekizian, Karen Russo
Michie Stadium 1978 (l-r): Richie Mellone, Kenny Dahl, Tony Maresco, Richie Bobik, Ralph Fasano, Jimmy Fleitz
Doug Percesepe
Clockwise from lower left: Ray Scalone, Anthony Graci, Mark Galgani, Miriam Popp, Linda Ekezian, Glenn O'Neill, Donna Duchene, Debi McCormack, Kenny DaRos, Pam Hitt
The Aqueduct (L-R): Tommy Scordato, Jimmy Keegan, John Gaccione, Bill Haviland, John Hintze, Kevin Flood, Casey Stengle, Bill Foley, Shawn Mackey
Let Wall Street have a nightmare and the whole country has to help them back in bed again.
Will Rodgers