tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25348405764960871462024-03-19T04:35:57.102-07:00Early Levittown NY and Beyond -- By Frank Barning and FriendsUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger603125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534840576496087146.post-57780675134598710392017-05-15T10:26:00.003-07:002017-05-15T10:26:51.000-07:00Frank Barning, May 2017 photo.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEHCXr3yJK185tU_0FPv81jC0jZEbo6GjTWZZcpBZnP5j89GvQOhEKc0tTm3y2UNhANm1TpocE1ti47iwyhHW3AUiVD-RJAxcmmuvVIG1xz01ufXlgX5G37VxotQFQZk6bfEtu5UbXKpsX/s1600/Frank+May+2017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEHCXr3yJK185tU_0FPv81jC0jZEbo6GjTWZZcpBZnP5j89GvQOhEKc0tTm3y2UNhANm1TpocE1ti47iwyhHW3AUiVD-RJAxcmmuvVIG1xz01ufXlgX5G37VxotQFQZk6bfEtu5UbXKpsX/s320/Frank+May+2017.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534840576496087146.post-39247380124020083952015-06-11T09:01:00.001-07:002015-06-11T09:01:14.324-07:00<h2>
KEN PLASS - CLASS OF 1960</h2>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwoWrL6Vh7HiLl76_5KNZEC-8G-6K0qXcLtmwcc437I7GNRXX1EhWOdcGNKSr0VuLM0Y1S9I_Y56Lgr425jdslVFPMYmURkis1pbVCZWDbwLxIUrHcyJWqh5rkOO9O0s14W5FROdsKBIad/s1600/Ken+Plass+%25281960%2529+with+his+wife+Sandy+and+two+of+his+seven+grandchildren+on+a+recent+cruise+to+Alaska..png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwoWrL6Vh7HiLl76_5KNZEC-8G-6K0qXcLtmwcc437I7GNRXX1EhWOdcGNKSr0VuLM0Y1S9I_Y56Lgr425jdslVFPMYmURkis1pbVCZWDbwLxIUrHcyJWqh5rkOO9O0s14W5FROdsKBIad/s320/Ken+Plass+%25281960%2529+with+his+wife+Sandy+and+two+of+his+seven+grandchildren+on+a+recent+cruise+to+Alaska..png" width="247" /></a></div>
Ken Plass (1960) with his wife Sandy and two of his seven grandchildren on a recent cruise to Alaska.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE8thyzc428tqe5LHCBPffEK6tSns1JN3OmI8M9J4GMyWPjjCarDX28svlzMnC5fVL-g1Pc4uOO_5IJfSQAvJ-ICYhlL7aYhHqIQ1s1JI_ggfBnK_IRL7BOYnm7LKSfkUs4A00fKKErwdi/s1600/Ken+Plass+%25281960%2529+with+his+wife+Sandy+and+two+of+his+seven+grandchildren+on+a+recent+cruise+to+Alaska..png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE8thyzc428tqe5LHCBPffEK6tSns1JN3OmI8M9J4GMyWPjjCarDX28svlzMnC5fVL-g1Pc4uOO_5IJfSQAvJ-ICYhlL7aYhHqIQ1s1JI_ggfBnK_IRL7BOYnm7LKSfkUs4A00fKKErwdi/s320/Ken+Plass+%25281960%2529+with+his+wife+Sandy+and+two+of+his+seven+grandchildren+on+a+recent+cruise+to+Alaska..png" width="247" /></a></div>
<h2>
<br /></h2>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534840576496087146.post-54474719179806502332015-06-11T08:42:00.002-07:002015-06-11T08:48:41.312-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjG8W3pCodsf5jdYnpOM5u6aNdEjaqOOdhkg1S9LUxlWwfoxG9GQsZPhZocchV39Saaco1W_022gh5i0_BOsI1hG8CvQvmjan9qGnDVMtwQdemzJTthHM3bHOzas_3ZS1TmhAYQAdnvxqG/s1600/Mike+Newton%252C+Jimmy+Healy+%2528on+shoulders%2529%252C+Tommy+Baker+%2528President%2529%252C+Kenny+Ganim+%2528Vice+President%2529%252C+Pete+Cybriwsky%252C+Richie+Lohman+%2528on+shoulders%2529%252C+and+Artie+Dorrmann.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjG8W3pCodsf5jdYnpOM5u6aNdEjaqOOdhkg1S9LUxlWwfoxG9GQsZPhZocchV39Saaco1W_022gh5i0_BOsI1hG8CvQvmjan9qGnDVMtwQdemzJTthHM3bHOzas_3ZS1TmhAYQAdnvxqG/s320/Mike+Newton%252C+Jimmy+Healy+%2528on+shoulders%2529%252C+Tommy+Baker+%2528President%2529%252C+Kenny+Ganim+%2528Vice+President%2529%252C+Pete+Cybriwsky%252C+Richie+Lohman+%2528on+shoulders%2529%252C+and+Artie+Dorrmann.jpg" width="260" /></a></div>
<h2>
</h2>
<h2>
Class of 1960 guys who were in a club .. </h2>
<h2>
Mike Newton, Jimmy Healy (on shoulders), Tommy Baker (President), Kenny Ganim (Vice President), Pete Cybriwsky, Richie Lohman (on shoulders), and Artie Dorrmann.</h2>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534840576496087146.post-82140831361489407182014-12-05T10:29:00.000-08:002014-12-05T10:29:00.131-08:00Jim McGrath, DAHS class of 1960.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TX9-Tx6Q-og/TwOaxDLg4II/AAAAAAAAFX8/oJARIUmLy-4/s1600/Jim%2BMcGrath%2Bon%2Bthe%2Broad%2Bagain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TX9-Tx6Q-og/TwOaxDLg4II/AAAAAAAAFX8/oJARIUmLy-4/s1600/Jim%2BMcGrath%2Bon%2Bthe%2Broad%2Bagain.jpg" height="320" width="224" /></a></div>
<h3>
<br /></h3>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534840576496087146.post-87958391865363614832013-03-25T07:19:00.002-07:002013-03-25T07:35:50.009-07:00Zippy cartoon by Bill Griffith<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPpu8-g5IZoTdQpweVwlDdOIIHZXQmuMBFrVwb32hyphenhyphen50GjsbSdZupQyPXzeuqE3qK81Lk37r-oBOYO7wY6y_U-6SkWiUWAC8-la2A8lPcx_H2iJIKnOyUieeh6nB5leLsp628sWcbG7mkW/s1600/Zippy.....jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">c<img border="0" height="152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPpu8-g5IZoTdQpweVwlDdOIIHZXQmuMBFrVwb32hyphenhyphen50GjsbSdZupQyPXzeuqE3qK81Lk37r-oBOYO7wY6y_U-6SkWiUWAC8-la2A8lPcx_H2iJIKnOyUieeh6nB5leLsp628sWcbG7mkW/s640/Zippy.....jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<i>Random memories - </i><br />
<h2>
<i>click on cartoon to enlarge</i></h2>
<span style="font-size: large;">Here's recent Zippy strip in my series called "Random Memories". It all
takes place in Levittown, in my home at 47 Red Maple Drive North. Ed
Emshwiller, well-known sci-fi illustrator and filmmaker, lived next
door--the incident is true. </span><br />
<h2>
-Bill Griffith</h2>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534840576496087146.post-73165639417630062952013-03-22T12:19:00.001-07:002013-03-22T12:19:22.833-07:00You can take the boy out of Levittown . . .<h2>
ZIPPY THE PINHEAD</h2>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">click on cartoon to enlarge </span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 18.0pt;">Thanks to Bill Griffith for
permission to use his "Tower
of Power" strip. He
is a 1962 graduate of McArthur High School in Levittown
and is famous for his Zippy The Pinhead strips.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<b><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 18.0pt;">Bill Griffith's website is</span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 18.0pt;">:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 18.0pt;">http://www.zippythepinhead.com/</span></div>
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534840576496087146.post-51508746064550864252013-03-11T18:23:00.000-07:002013-03-11T18:23:19.931-07:00How a Levittown Boy Scout learned many lessons about religion more than 55 years ago<h2>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">How a
Levittown Boy Scout </span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">learned many lessons about religion more than 55
years ago</span></div>
</h2>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghmD4z78eePTiYkW-6un8ef8T4kMVBydsPJBQsyzRwXDUxNRN7UCcn-kDxhU8Pfr8MC9YujAVsRN28NQVjk7TYKxGgYWoHaqdTLTU9u4C3bHGjsTXN2WFqdZmbokLzWJ-7sTVtuM-wlXjr/s1600/Damon+Solomon,+class+of+1960.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghmD4z78eePTiYkW-6un8ef8T4kMVBydsPJBQsyzRwXDUxNRN7UCcn-kDxhU8Pfr8MC9YujAVsRN28NQVjk7TYKxGgYWoHaqdTLTU9u4C3bHGjsTXN2WFqdZmbokLzWJ-7sTVtuM-wlXjr/s1600/Damon+Solomon,+class+of+1960.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">Also learned was how we are all interwoven to each
other no matter how we worship</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">By
DAMON SOLOMON</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">What a
beautiful story Kathy Stahlman Zinn told about Levittown
and St. Bernard’s Church earlier this month in this blog.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">I,
too, used to go to St. Bernard’s Catholic Church. Quite a few of Boy Scout
troop 160's meetings were there. I often walked there from Elm Tree Lane, which was near the North
Village Green. I had many happy memories there but it was also the home to one
of the saddest moments of my life, as well.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">Our
beloved Scoutmaster, Mr. Carroll, was suddenly been struck down with what I now
believe was a heart attack. He and his son Wesley, who was older than I, but a
good friend, always made this Jewish kid from the lower east side of Manhattan
feel welcome as a true brother in scouting. They both took me under their wings
and made that time of my life most memorable. But I digress.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">The
sadness came when the funeral for our Scout Master was held at St. Bernard’s,
and our whole troop was in attendance. Not only was this my first funeral but
it also was the first time I attended a Roman Catholic Mass. I cautiously entered
the vestibule of the church and tried to blend in with my troop as closely as
possible.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">I
entered the pew and turned my attention to the altar where the congregation was
transfixed. My first view was the massive image of Christ behind the altar. Then
came my first experience with death and its many rituals.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">The
coffin was open and there lay our Scoutmaster, poor Mr. Carroll. Shock raced
through me like a bolt of electricity. Now the Mass began. At that time
virtually everything was in Latin and I was having enough trouble with English
and learning Hebrew at our local temple. I knelt and genuflected as best as a
beginner could and soon it was over.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">Now
came one of the hardest things I ever had to do in my short life. Members of
our troop all rose and slowly marched past our beloved Scoutmaster in a final
farewell.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">That
day I learned many lessons about religion, life, death and the value of
friendship. I also learned how we are all interwoven to each other no matter
how we worship. Like Kathy, I too remember St. Bernard’s Catholic Church and
the many lessons about life that it taught me. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">___</span></div>
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Damon Solomon is a 1960 graduate of Division Avenue
High School and a Hofstra University
alumnus. He lives in Florida.</span></i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534840576496087146.post-42992560402580944662013-03-09T11:13:00.002-08:002013-03-09T11:13:45.261-08:00My Favorite Things: a version for seniors<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWmaUsUtO-HJvTl966wqSE1YOe9jAQ0racIETXaWvfQFC2C5rXbL3K-zZLRTiICSaJ_N674ii7xZxW0BcN9ZDKAbk9l1DFAO6-79stTSwCfAlpX7Kuj0UrajYd7-ziUGKi7b-lQyK36Zeh/s1600/Julie+Andrews.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWmaUsUtO-HJvTl966wqSE1YOe9jAQ0racIETXaWvfQFC2C5rXbL3K-zZLRTiICSaJ_N674ii7xZxW0BcN9ZDKAbk9l1DFAO6-79stTSwCfAlpX7Kuj0UrajYd7-ziUGKi7b-lQyK36Zeh/s320/Julie+Andrews.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<![endif]--><b><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">New
lyrics for Julie Andrews' old song</span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br />
<b><br />
To commemorate her 78th birthday, actress/vocalist, Julie Andrews made a
special appearance at Manhattan's Radio City Music Hall for the benefit
of the AARP. One of the musical numbers she performed was 'My Favorite
Things' from the legendary movie 'The Sound Of Music'. Here
are the lyrics she used: </b><br />
<b><br />
Botox and nose drops and needles for knitting, <br />
Walkers and handrails and new dental fittings, <br />
Bundles of magazines tied up in string, <br />
These are a few of my favorite things. <br />
<i><br />
Cadillacs and cataracts, hearing aids and glasses, <br />
Polident and Fixodent and false teeth in glasses, <br />
Pacemakers, golf carts and porches with swings, <br />
These are a few of my favorite things. <br />
</i><br />
When the pipes leak, When the bones creak, <br />
When the knees go bad, <br />
I simply remember my favorite things, <br />
And then I don't feel so bad. <br />
<i><br />
Hot tea and crumpets and corn pads for bunions, <br />
No spicy hot food or food cooked with onions, <br />
Bathrobes and heating pads and hot meals they bring, <br />
These are a few of my favorite things. <br />
</i><br />
Back pain, confused brains and no need for sinnin', <br />
Thin bones and fractures and hair that is thinnin', <br />
And we won't mention our short shrunken frames, <br />
When we remember our favorite things. <br />
<br />
When the joints ache, When the hips break, <br />
When the eyes grow dim, <br />
Then I remember the great life I've had, <br />
And then I don't feel so bad. <br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
</b></span><br />
<h2>
<br /></h2>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534840576496087146.post-22045094871765882272013-03-03T10:54:00.002-08:002013-03-03T10:54:37.809-08:00Levittown provided a sense of safety to a pious young church goer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">Kathy walked to
church every day for six weeks during Lent</span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">By KATHY
STAHLMAN ZINN</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">Class of
1963</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">In the
early spring of 1955, I was nine and a half, in 4th grade at Summit Lane School
(Miss Temesy) in Levittown, and the eldest of 5 kids, Theresa having been born
a few months previously (3 more kids would come in the next 7 years).</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">It was
Lent, that season where Catholics and some other Christians "give up something"
to prove their piety in the 6 weeks leading up to Easter. I was
a very pious little girl. That year, instead of the moderately
difficult giving-up-TV for 6 weeks, I decided to be holy, indeed, and
go to mass every day. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">I don't
know if I even told my parents. My mother was busy with the other 4,
including the baby. It was so early in the day when I left
that I don't think anyone noticed I was gone. My father was often
away overnight on his job as a co-pilot for Eastern
Airlines. So I would leave 99
Butternut Lane in the often-cold, still dark
morning air.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">I walked
down to Sycamore Lane
and turned left; walked past a few houses and turned right onto Bucket Lane, which curved
around and went all the way to an entrance to the shopping
center. But I turned left, halfway down Bucket Lane, onto a short street
that took me to Squirrel Lane,
and turned right. Now I knew I was nearly there I also had a
crush on someone who lived on Squirrel (whose name will go to the grave
with me), whom I always anticipated seeing, but never did (how's that for
piety?).</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">I finally
came to Grassy Lane, turned
left, and had one short block until I reached Hempstead Turnpike, right
across from my destination, St. Bernard's Catholic Church. In my
memory there was no stop light at that intersection, so I waited for
the traffic to clear (not too heavy at that hour), walked across, and went into
the church, which, on the outside, still looked like the renovated
airplane hanger that it originally was. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">Inside
the church, it was warm and cozy, with candle light. The few members of the
congregation present were scattered throughout the pews. They were mostly
little old ladies dressed in black, with babushkas (head scarves), and a
few old gentlemen. I was clearly the only child at the mass. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">Daily
mass is much shorter than on Sundays. There are fewer
people, and fewer prayers. It actually was much more of a
meditative experience, the priest with his back to us, muttering in Latin, the
little old ladies whispering their rosaries, no sermon, with Communion being
the highlight of the services. It was over in less than a half
hour. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">Then I
went back out into the cold early-Spring air, with more light in the
sky. I crossed back over Hempstead Turnpike with no stoplight, walked one
block down Grassy Lane, turned right on Squirrel, walked back
down past many houses (still hoping, in vain, for a glimpse of my
heartthrob), turned left on the short, name-forgotten street, turned right onto
Bucket, left onto Sycamore for 1 block, and then right onto Butternut,
past 3-4 houses, to #99, walked in and had my breakfast and went to school.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">Surely my
mother was up by then as well as my 3 sisters and one brother. Surely my
mother knew. But in my memory, she didn't know and didn't ask.
None of the old ladies, nor the priest. ever spoke to me. I never told any
of my friends - they would have thought I was weird, and well, I WAS
weird, for a 9 year old little girl. Probably I was feeling kind of alone
at that stage of my life, and this great "sacrifice" of going to
daily mass was my special time with God - and, not insignificantly, with nature
- for isn't nature also God?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">I loved
seeing the earth change every day, as it got warmer, the crocuses and
daffodils starting to peek out, maybe a few other colors, mostly
yellow and white, starting to appear, each day being a little lighter at the
start of my journey, and, by the end of Lent, full sunlight and the pink
blossoms of Easter cherry trees. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">I
realize, now, that my trip must have been around a mile each
way. I was a little girl, alone, in the dark for part of the way. I
crossed over a busy highway. I sat, knelt, and received Communion by
myself in the big church. It is difficult to imagine that today
someone wouldn't have wondered what I was doing there, especially the
priest. But Levittown was safe - or at
least we all operated under that illusion. And it would have been
unusual, in those days, for the priest to intervene. His role was
strictly to say mass. He probably figured someone knew that I was
there. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">My daily
journey for six weeks instilled in me a sense of being special, a
wonder at the signs of God in the natural world all around me (it amuses
me to think of my finding nature in this most planned and artificial of
communities), a sense of being close to God, and a great sense of
confidence and independence.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">It was my
way of coping, and it worked well. And Levittown
provided me with a sense of safety, like huge, loving arms around
me. </span></div>
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<![endif]--><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534840576496087146.post-79214666920935905762013-02-25T10:05:00.000-08:002013-02-25T10:05:33.834-08:00As a student, Lillian longed for a youthful sounding name<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">It took many years to grow into
her first name</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">By LILLIAN
SMITH HANDLEMAN</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">Class of
1962</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">When I
was in school I didn't like my name. I longed to be a Kathy or Debbie or
something youthful sounding. Every Lillian I ever heard of was someone's
grandma.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">I realize
now that I had to grow into my name and now I like it--Lillian Ruth,
my Irish grandmother's name, a name of significance. Now I have
grandkids with their own unusual names that I also like. I appreciate
that those names have personal meaning for the parents who chose them
as unique to their child. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">I have no
problem with unusual names. It's the fact that some new age names
eventually become trendy and in the process, get hijacked, shortened, and
misspelled into the mainstream. My daughter had an original, nearly
unheard of name when I chose it 44 years ago--Micaela, the feminine form of
Michael, her father's name. It was an alternative to the more
common "Michelle", and it was unique then.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">Today
there are countless copied versions of "Micaela" chosen by parents
who have butchered the spelling of that beautiful name into phonetically
structured variants: Mikayla, Makala, and Cayla, to name a few. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">Although
a "Rose" by any other name would smell as sweet (thanks,
Shakespeare), I think we all struggle to distinguish ourselves in some way as
we integrate into society. Our name becomes a big part of our identity as
we get older and parents should choose thoughtfully before they dilute a lovely
name with crazy spellings and assign it to their child exposing
them to the ridicule of those who may poke fun.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">__</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">This story is in response to the
previous post, "New fangled names for babies drive me wild."</span></i></div>
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<![endif]--><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534840576496087146.post-66765065302780092382013-02-23T10:19:00.000-08:002013-02-23T13:37:26.275-08:00New fangled names for babies drive me wild<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">My classmates mostly had
traditional names</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">By Frank
"Judge" Barning</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">Going
through my extensive files of early Levittown pictures, I happened upon a yearbook
shot of Division Avenue High School's
1961-62 cheerleaders. They had sweet first names that included Linda, two Sues,
Joan, Mary, Janet, Cathy and a pair with the solid, feminine name Melissa.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">What
strikes your blogger is the names of these young women. None are as off putting
to my old-fashioned taste as are some of today's most popular names for girl
babies. Examples are Savannah, Keira, Zoe, Madison, Addison, Camryn, Chloe, Jada, Peyton and get
this, Brooklyn.</span><br />
</div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">The name Tiffany became
popular a few years ago. I look forward to meeting a Tiffany whose last name is
Lamp. As if Tiffany is not exotic enough, here are some alternate spelling of
that name: <a href="http://www.babynamer.com/taffany"><span style="color: windowtext;">Taffany</span></a>,
<a href="http://www.babynamer.com/tifanee"><span style="color: windowtext;">Tifanee</span></a>,
<a href="http://www.babynamer.com/tifaney"><span style="color: windowtext;">Tifaney</span></a>,
<a href="http://www.babynamer.com/tifani"><span style="color: windowtext;">Tifani</span></a>,
<a href="http://www.babynamer.com/tifanie"><span style="color: windowtext;">Tifanie</span></a>,
<a href="http://www.babynamer.com/tifany"><span style="color: windowtext;">Tifany</span></a>,
<a href="http://www.babynamer.com/tiffane"><span style="color: windowtext;">Tiffane</span></a>,
<a href="http://www.babynamer.com/tiffaney"><span style="color: windowtext;">Tiffaney</span></a>,
<a href="http://www.babynamer.com/tiffani"><span style="color: windowtext;">Tiffani</span></a>,
<a href="http://www.babynamer.com/tiffanie"><span style="color: windowtext;">Tiffanie</span></a>,
<a href="http://www.babynamer.com/tiffanny"><span style="color: windowtext;">Tiffanny</span></a>,
<a href="http://www.babynamer.com/tiffeney"><span style="color: windowtext;">Tiffeney</span></a>,
<a href="http://www.babynamer.com/tiffenie"><span style="color: windowtext;">Tiffenie</span></a>,
<a href="http://www.babynamer.com/tiffine"><span style="color: windowtext;">Tiffine</span></a>,
<a href="http://www.babynamer.com/tiffiney"><span style="color: windowtext;">Tiffiney</span></a>,
<a href="http://www.babynamer.com/tiffini"><span style="color: windowtext;">Tiffini</span></a>,
<a href="http://www.babynamer.com/tiffinie"><span style="color: windowtext;">Tiffinie</span></a>,
<a href="http://www.babynamer.com/tiffiny"><span style="color: windowtext;">Tiffiny</span></a>,
<a href="http://www.babynamer.com/tiphani"><span style="color: windowtext;">Tiphani</span></a>,
<a href="http://www.babynamer.com/tiphanie"><span style="color: windowtext;">Tiphanie</span></a>
and <a href="http://www.babynamer.com/tiphany"><span style="color: windowtext;">Tiphany</span></a>.
None of these alternates are listed in my computer's spell check.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">I knew
someone in California
with the last name of Shore whose daughter was named Sierra. Sierra Shore
might be a good name for a stripper, a hooker or a beach motel. You have to be
careful giving babies names.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">And don't
get me started on boy baby names. Jayden, Caden, Colton and Ryder are among the leaders on the
2010 list. In my class, the names Sterling
(Morrison), Erling (Ernie Anderson) and Garrett (Gary DeCastillia) were among
the very few that were not main stream. As I recall, Sterling's given first name was Harry (see correction in Comments section below).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">Checking
my class of 1960 yearbook, there were few of us with odd first names. Topping
the charts might be Lilette (Levy), a different but charming name. And rare was
the odd spelling. We had a Lorrayne (McCoy).</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">My mother
had an offbeat, and rarely exhibited, sense of humor. She insisted that had I
been a girl, I would have been named Tangerine. A song named Tangerine was a
big hit the year I was born, 1942. It was on the Billboard charts for 15 weeks,
peaking at number one. Dad wanted me to be Harry Herman Barning 3rd. Mother
intervened on that, thank you very much. And I was named for her grandfather
and brother.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">Mother
also, jokingly I assume, considered naming me Judge Barning. Imagine the taunts
I would have received from the the boys in school. "Here come the Judge,
here come the Judge."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">And
excuse me if you have grandkids with some of the names that I find odd. Please
accept, in advance, my apology.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534840576496087146.post-42391931983639879412013-02-21T11:01:00.001-08:002013-02-21T11:02:45.760-08:00Early Division Avenue High School students chosen as Most Likely to Succeed<h2>
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<![endif]--><b><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Early
Division Avenue High School students chosen as Most Likely to Succeed</span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
</span></h2>
<h2 class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYu0KjmRqfriZzSv0a1HQ6nzl-64AnDCHBFNJbuT1JpFL-p4eaUmn4Nsb67Y1kYNkRkT5INFSbzkeKKNiB1bdCLgOf3gyUbOxWzDVhiv4FOzJ7fncNRqPDPfLmq95aEkVwh-YOws0zZiwg/s1600/1963+Most+Likely+to+Succeed+Jeff+Harriton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYu0KjmRqfriZzSv0a1HQ6nzl-64AnDCHBFNJbuT1JpFL-p4eaUmn4Nsb67Y1kYNkRkT5INFSbzkeKKNiB1bdCLgOf3gyUbOxWzDVhiv4FOzJ7fncNRqPDPfLmq95aEkVwh-YOws0zZiwg/s320/1963+Most+Likely+to+Succeed+Jeff+Harriton.jpg" width="244" /></a></h2>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 18.0pt;">Jeff Harriton, class of 1963</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 18.0pt;">Most
Likely to Succeed</span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 18.0pt;"><br />
1960 Dewain Lanfear <br />
1961 Tom Toscano*<br />
1962 Stephen Ashwal<br />
1963 Jeff Harriton<br />
1964 Edward Glucksman, Louise Gallo<br />
1965 Renie Herman, Joe MacDonald<br />
1966 Harry Orenstein, Diane Tolomeo</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 18.0pt;">1967
Dyanne Speer, David Schnapf</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 18.0pt;">1968
Debbie Heinecke, Charlene Wiener, Mike Swartz, Brian Kennan </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 18.0pt;">*deceased</span></div>
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<![endif]-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534840576496087146.post-2706817839264305382013-02-18T17:06:00.000-08:002013-02-18T17:06:16.886-08:00In the beginning, moving to Levittown included encounters with prejudice<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">My family was not greeted with
open arms, just some closed minds</span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;"><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">By JOHN
GRECO</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">Class of
1968</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;"><br />
The Greco family started out in Manhattan, and
lived there for a couple of years before heading to Astoria, Queens. From Astoria,
with thanks to the GI bill we were able to move to Levittown
with $500 down to became landowners. I believe 1955. The
"Country" wow, we owned a home now.<br />
<br />
I remember the day we moved in like it was yesterday. We moved to the
"Bird" section - 41
Thrush Lane to be exact. It might as well
been the moon. Every house was the same. I didn't know anyone and
frankly it was scary as hell.<br />
<br />
What I remember most about this move day though was how my family was
discriminated on by some of the neighbors. It was horrifying to me and I had
never experienced something like that before. I was a city kid with
friends from all walks of life before and now I am an Italian kid alone in a
potato farm. We are now officially in the "Country"!<br />
<br />
In "The Country" we now had neighbors that, we'll, just didn't like
the idea that Italians from the city just moved in. This is when I first
heard the words dago and wop. I had no idea I was different. I was not
Johnny any more I was officially a dago, Wop.<br />
<br />
Of course after time the neighbors realized that we were just like they were
and all was good in the world. But actually we weren't just like them
because the Grecos always treated everyone with respect. My mother Helen
and my father Gaspare would never tolerate anything else.<br />
<br />
I have one million good memories of Levittown with all my great Levittown friends but this story stays with me and stands
out the most.<br />
<br />
It was my life for 30 plus years. I love Levittown,
but I will always remember moving day.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534840576496087146.post-38626462685983316412013-02-17T15:10:00.000-08:002013-02-17T15:12:58.287-08:00The many joys of being a retired person<h2>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 18.0pt;">Things you should know about
retired people</span></b></div>
</h2>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 18.0pt;">Question:
How many days in a week? <br />
Answer: 6 Saturdays and Sunday. <br />
<br />
Question: When is a retiree's bedtime? <br />
Answer: Three hours after he falls asleep on the couch. <br />
<br />
Question: How many retirees does it take to change a light bulb?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 18.0pt;">Answer:
Only one, but it might take all day. <br />
<br />
Question: What's the biggest gripe of retirees? <br />
Answer: There is not enough time to get everything done. <br />
<br />
Question: Why don't retirees mind being called Seniors? <br />
Answer: The term comes with a 10% discount. <br />
<br />
Question: Among retirees what is considered formal attire? <br />
Answer: Tied shoes. <br />
<br />
Question: Why do retirees count pennies? <br />
Answer: They are the only ones who have the time. <br />
<br />
Question: What is the common term for someone who enjoys work and refuses to
retire? <br />
Answer: NUTS! <br />
<br />
Question: Why are retirees so slow to clean out the basement, attic or garage? <br />
Answer: They know that as soon as they do, one of their adult kids will want to
store stuff there. <br />
<br />
Question: What do retirees call a long lunch? <br />
Answer: Normal.
<br />
<br />
Question: What is the best way to describe retirement? <br />
Answer: The never ending coffee break. <br />
<br />
Question: What's the biggest advantage of going back to school as a retiree? <br />
Answer: If you cut classes, no one calls your parents.. <br />
<br />
Question: Why does a retiree often say he doesn't miss work, but misses the
people he used to work with? <br />
Answer: He is too polite to tell the whole truth. <br />
<br />
QUESTION: What do you do all week? <br />
Answer: Monday through Friday, NOTHING..... Saturday & Sunday, I rest. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 18.0pt;">Provided
by Paul Linder</span></i></div>
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<![endif]-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534840576496087146.post-35732190134672584492013-02-15T07:06:00.001-08:002013-02-15T07:06:20.909-08:00Trucks delivered food and other products directly to our Levittown homes<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">Trucks delivered
food and other products directly to our Levittown
homes</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">By FRANK
BARNING</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">Most moms
were house bound in the early days of Levittown.
As a rule, families had only one car and dad drove it to work.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">It was a
huge help to the homemaker, known as "the little woman" in those
days, that trucks delivered food and other products directly to her door. John
Kinstrey, class of 1961, remembers a truck hawking produce. I recall vehicles
selling milk, cream and butter. Borden's did a lot of business from its trucks.
Milk came in glass, returnable bottles. On extremely cold days, milk would
freeze and pop out of the top of the bottle, through the paper cap.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">Bakery
goods were peddled by Dugan's and Krug trucks. My mother, who had an off-beat
sense of humor, referred to the bakery trucks as Krugan's. One of them had
wonderful cupcakes. I can remember peeling off and devouring the delicious
icing before eating the glorious yellow cake. The Dugan's cupcakes came with
either chocolate, vanilla or strawberry icing, and the jellyrolls and coffee
cakes were real treats.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">If she
wanted Dugan's to stop, mom put a D in a front window. There even were Dugan's
toy trucks for sale, which I do not remember, but have seen offered on the
internet.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">Fuller
Brush men vigorously worked the thousand lanes of Levittown.
According to Wikipedia, "During the 1940s and 1950s, the ubiquitous Fuller
Brush salesman became a cultural icon, inspiring comedy and jokes, movies, and
at least one song."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">There was
a<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>1948 movie starring Red Skelton called
'The Fuller Brush Man."
The company is still in business and has kept up with the times<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">, </span></strong>offering environmentally safe
cleaning products that are nontoxic and biodegradable. I have no idea if they
still have salesmen trudging door to door.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">Since our
homes were heated by oil, trucks delivered our fuel. Meenan Oil seemed to have
a virtual monopoly and its big green trucks appeared to be everywhere in the
winter. I can still smell the stench emitted by the big hose that poured out
the precious black gold. The company is still in business</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">And, of
course, Levittown had a virtual parade of ice
cream trucks in warm weather. Bungalow Bar was my favorite, many preferred Good
Humor, and there were lesser known brands that made a profit primarily on the
personality of the driver. Many early Levittown
kids remember the Blue Bell ice cream truck driven by Cosmo (see photo). He
only drove on the north side of Levittown.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">After all
these years, to me just about nothing tastes better than those scrumptious<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dugan's cupcakes and Good Humor Toasted
Almond bars. You must have your favorites, too.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">____</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">The 2000
photo of Cosmo is courtesy of Marilyn Monsrud Frese, class of 1963. With Cosmo
is her granddaughter Samm who is now a high school senior. </span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534840576496087146.post-85059572154266860432013-02-13T15:29:00.001-08:002013-02-13T15:36:40.758-08:00<h2>
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">Backyard
adventure of a Levittown five-year old</span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;"> </span></h2>
<h2>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">By LESLIE
SANDS BELL</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">Class of
1968</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">In 1955
most of the homes on Carnation
Road in Levittown
had backyard fences made from cyclone fencing, white pickets or logs. They were
always between three and four feet high, making it easy to converse over them
with the neighbors on either side and behind.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">One
summer day I was playing in our backyard when I heard a dog yelping in pain. I stood
on the lower rung of our log fence and saw the neighbor diagonally behind us beating
a puppy as she dangled it from its collar. I was five-years old and my sense of outrage
was enormous. I yelled out “You put that dog down you mean lady.” She stopped,
and in a shocked voice asked me, “WHAT did you say?!’’ I repeated myself and
added, “You’re mean and when you die I’m not sending you an “I'm Sorry card.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">She
dropped the puppy and began to run toward the corner where the fences of four backyards
met, and straight for me. I took off and blew into the kitchen of our Cape Cod where I literally hid behind my mother’s skirt
as she was stirring something on the stove. The neighbor entered our kitchen
without knocking about five seconds later.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">The
neighbor was livid about my behavior and the puppy’s who had chewed her brand new
couch- something that you had to save up and pay for in cash in those days. My mother
understood her plight, but defended my sense of injustice. The puppy found a new
home and although I wasn’t reprimanded, my mother told me to get an adult to intervene
in the future.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">____</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<b>
</b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">From Jim
Urban, class of 1961</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">Frank,
welcome back. These are some of the things I have noticed about your blog through
the years: 1. The writing is, generally, excellent. 2. There are very few
spelling or grammatical errors in the posts. 3. There are very few posters who
have a negative remembrance of growing up in Levittown;
almost all remember their childhood with exceptional fondness. I'm not certain
that this is common. 4. There is an unusual commonality evident in the memories
of those of us who grew up in Levittown. How
can it be that such a diverse group of people, from such diverse backgrounds,
socio-economic strata, religions, goals and experiences, all feel similarly
about their childhood years? Must have been a very special place indeed.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534840576496087146.post-47994528694588699082013-02-11T11:16:00.000-08:002013-02-11T11:31:38.266-08:00Levittown absorbs you and keeps you in its grasp<h2>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">A LONG-GONE EARLY LEVITTOWNER
MISSES EVERYTHING ABOUT HER OLD
HOME TOWN</span></div>
</h2>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOpXRCDHxdUKxy7PEardBbLRQU6O9oFSDkI3i-tTn_FJuS17xzPevp7zaVd-WB0-qLvS9Qz5KY59h84s9GNbg8sSNEQoxhVlJEWO0MXMASL6za1xkZJeF3cb_3Cpo_RnWqFBiX-W21UXaC/s1600/Lillian+Smith+Handleman+in+1951,+17+Brook+Lane.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOpXRCDHxdUKxy7PEardBbLRQU6O9oFSDkI3i-tTn_FJuS17xzPevp7zaVd-WB0-qLvS9Qz5KY59h84s9GNbg8sSNEQoxhVlJEWO0MXMASL6za1xkZJeF3cb_3Cpo_RnWqFBiX-W21UXaC/s320/Lillian+Smith+Handleman+in+1951,+17+Brook+Lane.jpg" width="226" /></a></div>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>1951 photo: Lillian Smith in front of her 17 Brook Lane home.</i></span></span></b></div>
<br />
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 22.0pt;">Levittown</span><span style="font-size: 22.0pt;"> absorbs you and keeps you in its grasp forever.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">By LILLIAN SMITH </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">Class of 1962 </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">It's been 48 years since I've
lived on Long Island and yet it remains the
most pervasive memory of my past. There is something so special about the
Island for me--particularly Levittown, a town
that absorbs you and keeps you in its grasp forever.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">When you return for even a
short while, it's like no time has elapsed at all--as if the life you lived
back then was an alternate life. Perhaps everyone has that same nostalgia for
the place where they grew up, and maybe that eerie suspension of time
is just a universal longing to return to an era where
everything seemed safe and possibilities were endless.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">I remember Levittown
now, more in the abstract than in the opaque reality of movie theaters, beaches
and childhood friends. Although all of those things comprise the water-colored
memories of the way we were (to borrow the corny lyrics of a Barbra
Streisand song), I see Levittown more as a
painting where the colors merge into the image of my past as a whole. And I
miss everything about it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">_____</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">Lillian Smith Handleman is a
1962 graduate of Division Avenue High School
and a long-time resident of Connecticut.
She has been a frequent contributor to our blog.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534840576496087146.post-46581431872047282602013-02-09T07:06:00.000-08:002013-02-09T07:06:32.346-08:00GOOD HEDGES MAKE GOOD NEIGHBORS<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_yaFTYnyZvzStIVyfBensfTB8wIZSfxKIr4iXu_4_JfdlRWPkLJ3DysqMNrtF3D7bCcib0H5EsrKS6uKOHjgmdzXtGM3xSljeWRTP5F8-Mw83xbAk3kT2rMUFIhpCD3gYhQiREzxsB2mb/s1600/From+Toni.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_yaFTYnyZvzStIVyfBensfTB8wIZSfxKIr4iXu_4_JfdlRWPkLJ3DysqMNrtF3D7bCcib0H5EsrKS6uKOHjgmdzXtGM3xSljeWRTP5F8-Mw83xbAk3kT2rMUFIhpCD3gYhQiREzxsB2mb/s320/From+Toni.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />
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<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">GOOD HEDGES MAKE GOOD
NEIGHBORS</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">By TONI CRESCENZO GELFER '68</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">My father, Tony, pictured
here on the right, loved his house and especially the freedom of having a large
garage for his tools, trucks and even a cement mixer. What he missed about Ozone Park, Queens was the camaraderie that was always felt on the
stoops, corner stores and local social clubs for Italians.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">In Levittown,
he substituted Charlie's Gulf station, the luncheonette by Marcals (both on Newbridge Road) and
the front yard, talking over the hedges with Kingfisher Road neighbors such as Gerry
Silvestri who is shown here with my dad. Silvestri is wearing a type of
undershirt often seen in Levittown. Most of
the men who wore them grew up in Brooklyn, Queens
and The Bronx.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;"><br />
I have continued in this time honored tradition, never seeking the shelter and
privacy of my back yard. If you drove by my house in San Antonio today, chances are you'd see one
of my family sitting out, waving to neighbors, talking to the mailman. Some
things never change.</span></div>
<br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534840576496087146.post-2367137542763789822013-02-07T10:12:00.000-08:002013-02-07T10:14:06.546-08:00Celebrating the place we spent our youth and made priceless memories<h2>
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<h2>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14.0pt;">Celebrating
the place we spent our youth and made priceless memories</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">By FRANK
BARNING</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">Thomas
Wolfe wrote, "You can't go back home to your family, back home to your
childhood. . ."</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">It would be
difficult to define what two years of stories in my Early Levittown and Beyond blog
have entailed. Has there been an overriding theme? Has your blogger been
attempting to contradict Thomas Wolfe?</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">I suppose
it has mostly been a celebration of the place where we spent our youth and the
people - students, teachers, families, friends. Maybe it has been a memory lane
nostalgia trip. </span></div>
<br />
<br />
<h2>
</h2>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534840576496087146.post-15303142594166962562013-02-05T08:57:00.000-08:002013-02-05T10:24:18.090-08:00Early 1947 aerial photo of what was soon to become Levittown<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigIu9i-q5_SBISEaiVktVn7P4L0I-IcfjHrNnt9njpYYxHi3pb_oHd8MGJCDvF5vQoTWwUXfpSPrCWjv_WjgQXLdMeXjlyfBNs-T1UsVcVGlwXJa0YVa2u0ealC-t6MY_IxTVlbkMsmZ8P/s1600/Island+Trees+1947+pre+Levittown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigIu9i-q5_SBISEaiVktVn7P4L0I-IcfjHrNnt9njpYYxHi3pb_oHd8MGJCDvF5vQoTWwUXfpSPrCWjv_WjgQXLdMeXjlyfBNs-T1UsVcVGlwXJa0YVa2u0ealC-t6MY_IxTVlbkMsmZ8P/s320/Island+Trees+1947+pre+Levittown.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="usercontent"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">This
early 1947 picture is of what was known as Island Trees. The name was soon
changed to LEVITTOWN, Long Island.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="uficommentbody"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">What
you see is mostly potato fields. According to Lynne Matarrese in "The History
of Levittown, New York", "On October 1, 1947, the first 300 families
moved into the Cape Cod rental units."
The monthly rent was $60 and all houses were rentals. Matarrese writes that
after one year the Capes were available for
sale at $7,500.</span></span><span style="font-size: 18.0pt;"></span></div>
<br />
<h2>
<br /></h2>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534840576496087146.post-15570309438053953722012-09-25T06:02:00.000-07:002012-09-25T07:30:55.725-07:00THEN AND NOW: The Franklin National Bank Building near Mays.<h2>
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<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i><b><span style="font-family: Verdana;">click on pix to enlarge</span></b></i></span><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">We all remember Mays and various
stores in the Levittown shopping center on Hempstead Turnpike, a short walk
from Division Avenue High School.
Of course, over the past 50 years or so, numerous changes have been made and
all of the familiar names are gone.</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">Maybe you remember the Franklin
National Bank building, which in this black and white photo is to the left of
Thom McAn. Currently, see the color photo, they have been replaced by the Old
Country Buffet.</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt;">Change is inevitable, but at least
we can still see our Levittown in vintage
photos and in our memories.</span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Color photo by Marilyn Monsrud Frese</span></i></b><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<![endif]-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534840576496087146.post-69184446818506497322012-09-21T05:14:00.000-07:002013-02-05T10:05:32.465-08:00<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14.0pt;">Len
Sandok is now healthy enough to receive a kidney transplant</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14.0pt;">By LEN
SANDOK</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14.0pt;">Class of
1963</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14.0pt;">After
about four full days of testing, approximately 35 vials of blood, and a wait of
four months, I have finally been officially found to be healthy enough to
receive a kidney transplant, and sick enough to need one.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14.0pt;">Ellen, my
wife, and the boys (Craig and Scott) will be tested to see if they are
compatible with my chemistry. If they are, I will have the transfer this
winter, and will hopefully be back to full strength by early summer.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
If they are not compatible with my chemistry, but are healthy enough to donate,
Mayo Clinic has a program where they pair donors in similar situations, and can
perform a multiple transfer on the same day.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14.0pt;">If, for example,
Ellen’s kidney is not compatible with mine, but would be a good fit for someone
else, and that other person has a kidney donor that fits my needs, they do a
four-person swap. They have gone to as many as four donors to satisfy everyone.
That is eight people in the operating rooms at the same time.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br />
Failing that, I am on a list to receive a donation from a deceased person. That
is about four years out because I am not yet on dialysis, and there are people
ahead of me on the list. This would mean a few years of dialysis, and
hopefully, I would still be healthy enough to receive a kidney at that time.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br />
The interesting thing about being on the list is that they will call and wait
only one hour to contact me. If I do not respond in one hour, the kidney will
go to the next person on the list. I would have a maximum of 12 hours to get to
the hospital.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
I am both excited, and a little bit scared, about this “adventure”.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14.0pt;">__</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi14QO_GIp5LUj6u0hF9EMvtCHfMb89n7VEZQQcUn-VnyDxwVPFp9XAl9HL17Rae4he7vSUdLNH7A3vinBGCV3hjzQ9eKTDouxEOajtzNbO3MEfe300rPzDN7qmI_AJY8kbZ6Xd2XE8YJbX/s1600/Len+Sandok+1963.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi14QO_GIp5LUj6u0hF9EMvtCHfMb89n7VEZQQcUn-VnyDxwVPFp9XAl9HL17Rae4he7vSUdLNH7A3vinBGCV3hjzQ9eKTDouxEOajtzNbO3MEfe300rPzDN7qmI_AJY8kbZ6Xd2XE8YJbX/s320/Len+Sandok+1963.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">Len
was at Mayo in 1998 when he had a quadruple bypass. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He graduated from Rider
University (New
Jersey) and lives in Bloomington,
Minn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His brother was a Mayo physician for 35
years. He was the head of Neurology and the Dean of the Mayo Medical
School who was already in college when
the Sandoks moved to Levittown in 1956.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534840576496087146.post-32593998778898328212012-09-18T14:58:00.001-07:002012-09-18T15:01:32.346-07:00Growing up Catholic in religiously diverse Levittown, New York in the 1950s<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs0jmapb5uBTS_mELUvTikc4itL7MVOInnmE8HpWo_2PnQJ9G8LmXKLxeQwkB2l75v_Yg1Vfd8pyryEgum7apFAbxoyP7u9csGoa9HKiRuOzlRlmV53mVnuk4e83Nvlh_NiRSAjQrkwlC3/s1600/Kathy+Stahlman+Zinn+.+.+our+house+at+99+Butternut+Lane%252C+with+me+on+my+Confirmation+Day%252C+in+1956%252C.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 366px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs0jmapb5uBTS_mELUvTikc4itL7MVOInnmE8HpWo_2PnQJ9G8LmXKLxeQwkB2l75v_Yg1Vfd8pyryEgum7apFAbxoyP7u9csGoa9HKiRuOzlRlmV53mVnuk4e83Nvlh_NiRSAjQrkwlC3/s400/Kathy+Stahlman+Zinn+.+.+our+house+at+99+Butternut+Lane%252C+with+me+on+my+Confirmation+Day%252C+in+1956%252C.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5789639997961572130" border="0" /></a> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana"> Kathy Stahlman on her confirmation day in 1956 in front of her house at 99 Butternut Lane.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana">By KATHY STAHLMAN ZINN, class of 1963</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana">I grew up as a Catholic girl in Levittown. I had spent my first seven years in Elmhurst, Queens, right across the street from the church and school which my mother had attended. There I was christened, started school, and "made my first holy communion", as Catholics say. Much of the Irish/German neighborhood was Catholic. Looking back, it was a very insular world. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana">Moving to Levittown was a great dream for my and other post-WW II parents. Our fathers, and perhaps, a few mothers, had gotten to know people of various faiths and ethnicities in the war. That diversity, in a limited form, was repeated in our new community, partly through religion. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana">It seemed to me that neighbors, teachers, and classmates were roughly 50 percent Catholic, 25 percent Protestant, and 25 percent Jewish. No statistics are available, as far as I know. One of the large photos in the 1961 yearbook is a threefold image of St. Bernard's Catholic Church, the Israel Community Center (which no longer exists) and the Levittown Community Church. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana">Many of us found each other interesting, and often tried to learn about <span style="background:yellow">the<span style="color:maroon"> </span></span> others' faiths, sometimes attending special occasions in a friend's home or place of worship: christenings, first communions, confirmations and bar/bat mitzvahs. But it was the Catholic faith and practices which dominated my family life. I was the product of a "mixed marriage". My father was a German Protestant from western Pennsylvania, my mother, a New York City Irish girl. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana">I loved this fact, and enjoyed attending Sunday School in the Methodist church when we visited his family. When he formally became a Catholic on my 14th birthday, I did not see it as a "conversion", but rather as a way of his being even closer to us.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana">I also used my father's religious origin as an argument to my mother for why I refused to attend a Catholic school. Since Levittown was still so new, the nearest Catholic school was in Hicksville. I did not want to go because I didn't want to leave my friends at Summit Lane. I told my mother that "Catholic school kids were prejudiced against non-Catholics", which would include my father (this was before he joined our church). To some extent, I was correct. She relented. Instead, I attended "Religious Education" at our church.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana">Most Catholic churches do not have Sunday School. There is not enough time with all the Sunday services ("masses") that serve the large families. So, on Wednesdays Catholic kids were given "Released Time" to leave school early and walk to St. Bernard's. I don't remember if this continued in junior and senior high. We were unescorted by anyone but our friends. Imagine today bunches of elementary school children walking by themselves, through a shopping center, crossing Hempstead Turnpike, to say nothing of the issues of separation of church and state, and preferential treatment for one religious group. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana">We lost a few along the way, to the attractions of the shopping center, and some probably even snuck home. But most were thrilled to get out of school early and be free for the half-hour walk, despite our destination. In 2007, I learned that the St. Bernard's church building had originally been an airplane hanger. I wonder if my father, who flew B-17s, and became an airline pilot, ever knew that. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana">Our religion teachers were Dominican nuns, who wore the full black and white, floor length, imposing, "Habit". Few nuns wear such clothing today. We were instructed in how to be good Catholics. The "Baltimore Catechism", our main text, was set up in a question-and-answer form - quite boring, actually. Howard Whidden (class of 1962) agreed that Protestant kids seemed to have a lot more fun in Sunday School.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana">We were also instructed in the sacraments, first communion for second graders, and confirmation for sixth graders. Most kids stayed in religion classes at least through confirmation, because you got to pick a confirmation name - a privilege much anticipated. I chose the name "Jacqueline", the feminine form of Jacques, or John (it had to be a saint's name). "Jackie Kennedy" was unknown to us in 1956. My choice was based on the very pious reason that my favorite cousin, a Methodist at that, was named "Jackie". </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana">Girls were encouraged to help with cleaning and decorating the altar on Saturdays. But altar boys assist<span style="background:yellow">ed</span> the priest at mass on Sundays. Girls were not even to think about such a thing. Becoming an altar boy was, informally, the path to recruiting boys into the priesthood.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana">In the 1990s, the argument that being an "altar server" was only for boys because of the priesthood was abandoned. Girls were now permitted as well. When girls first appeared on the altar of my parish in Virginia, I told my priest how much it meant to me and many other women, who, when girls, would have welcomed the opportunity. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana">I have many issues with the Catholic church, but I am still practicing. This is partly for family reasons, and largely because I see the best and deepest part of the religion in which I was raised as coming from the same core as all other faiths - like the people of Levittown. </span></p> <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534840576496087146.post-83237541169854714862012-09-15T06:05:00.008-07:002012-09-15T06:17:33.651-07:00More photos of Division Avenue High School people.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTl_sQIm8qwD5g-6dmW39bpZU4WlywSLaXcQAwBdn0ZiKjVCD7UtgAt06cBIlg6mi64behANWv1mrCOsKp5XADI7lQxaiiqC5OeUKzcg_vTJ4uO9ef718AFUmkv869LCHMMsPufeWKas_O/s1600/Marellen+and+Larry+Bory+%25281960%2529+at+a+Medieval+Madness+restaurant+in+Alexandria+last+spring.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTl_sQIm8qwD5g-6dmW39bpZU4WlywSLaXcQAwBdn0ZiKjVCD7UtgAt06cBIlg6mi64behANWv1mrCOsKp5XADI7lQxaiiqC5OeUKzcg_vTJ4uO9ef718AFUmkv869LCHMMsPufeWKas_O/s400/Marellen+and+Larry+Bory+%25281960%2529+at+a+Medieval+Madness+restaurant+in+Alexandria+last+spring.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5788390517987985698" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:14.0pt;">Marellen and Larry Bory (1960) at a Medieval Madness restaurant in Alexandria, Va. last spring.<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6YtPUCt90-aHSBANpuMIsZpnvoKUVID22SygLfCsBfGxEBY96xia14Dgf8amM4nFBDA9ac71g9M7y5aea-83Q7eyPe2cYs9V-q-y1fsjWDHbf5tDaQrY6UlJe7S8wpnA1WMyE5ozFZFNg/s1600/Wendy+Max+Dunford+%25281968%2529+and+Steve+Max%25281962%2529..jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6YtPUCt90-aHSBANpuMIsZpnvoKUVID22SygLfCsBfGxEBY96xia14Dgf8amM4nFBDA9ac71g9M7y5aea-83Q7eyPe2cYs9V-q-y1fsjWDHbf5tDaQrY6UlJe7S8wpnA1WMyE5ozFZFNg/s400/Wendy+Max+Dunford+%25281968%2529+and+Steve+Max%25281962%2529..jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5788390340127918498" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:14.0pt;">Wendy Max Dunford (1968) and her big brother Steve Max (1962).</span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count:4"><br /><br /></span></span></b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVVVLRcq-hGhO1HZ3EKTN2ojwMJJPV2agBUyQqwrIhHhebUkembnfcKB3oYJBcEXkmC-_WAzzGQD8QViuIg6WEhYqPoP1tWAst0KSyu4K7LNkOvm4Nq_4ofEleu3eAyOExcek3Ao0Sww0J/s1600/The+late+Mr.+Robert+Reggio+in+1968+yearbook.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 303px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVVVLRcq-hGhO1HZ3EKTN2ojwMJJPV2agBUyQqwrIhHhebUkembnfcKB3oYJBcEXkmC-_WAzzGQD8QViuIg6WEhYqPoP1tWAst0KSyu4K7LNkOvm4Nq_4ofEleu3eAyOExcek3Ao0Sww0J/s400/The+late+Mr.+Robert+Reggio+in+1968+yearbook.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5788390226585239602" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:14.0pt;">The late Mr. Robert Reggio in the 1968 yearbook. He was a long-time DAHS science teacher.<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIlKCEyfFRV7W0taR57OASovZGUvXu-gtR3_oqqhCe4mfw8VkdbohW-Cc1OSnnQG2fNzn2KMSLh8WEFXq5_KeVLkCFMVJYe75AT6_Q934-nfnSqWi7UbSBJJXefqsA2ReXwgd55bUE1eZn/s1600/Scott+Cornell%252C+class+of+1960%252C+Roosevelt+Road+Puerto+Rico+in+1968.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIlKCEyfFRV7W0taR57OASovZGUvXu-gtR3_oqqhCe4mfw8VkdbohW-Cc1OSnnQG2fNzn2KMSLh8WEFXq5_KeVLkCFMVJYe75AT6_Q934-nfnSqWi7UbSBJJXefqsA2ReXwgd55bUE1eZn/s400/Scott+Cornell%252C+class+of+1960%252C+Roosevelt+Road+Puerto+Rico+in+1968.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5788390130321373202" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:14.0pt;">Scott Cornell (1960) at Roosevelt Road, Puerto Rico in 1968.<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_cjqQCLLcnS4q2tNOiaKnF1JK6-nMrF8iFqgmwvqilxKuAQkOgd3OQytPwfEchNIcIr6gRXv8cB-zyldnbhQ1XKjN0FXNT-7fglyC7FjXWEzucfohLMImpGIICh7gQyvI4uRJlLMu8n8O/s1600/Kathy+Armstrong+Urban+%25281962%2529+during+a+recent+visit+to+Ireland..JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 352px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_cjqQCLLcnS4q2tNOiaKnF1JK6-nMrF8iFqgmwvqilxKuAQkOgd3OQytPwfEchNIcIr6gRXv8cB-zyldnbhQ1XKjN0FXNT-7fglyC7FjXWEzucfohLMImpGIICh7gQyvI4uRJlLMu8n8O/s400/Kathy+Armstrong+Urban+%25281962%2529+during+a+recent+visit+to+Ireland..JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5788390013028534194" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:14.0pt;">Kathy Armstrong Urban (1962) during a recent visit to Ireland.</span> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:14.0pt;">Click on photos to enlarge</span></i><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count:4"> </span></span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style=" font-family:Verdana;mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-US; mso-bidi-language:AR-SAfont-family:";font-size:14.0pt;" ><span style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </span></span></b><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534840576496087146.post-40128386910394670392012-09-10T07:26:00.002-07:002012-09-10T07:29:11.107-07:00PART 2 - Early Levittown's cesspools were often a stinky problem<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ZeSCRK3bWgI-t0_3O-vvgexr1c9i-bb0DoLkOck6WEk_uUFPKkDslJW4YtURWtRrS55ov2TmD1TcT5bcjHRR_8TSJr_Lbx3OBy0b6b5pRJapHHiEWvHL5dSft9j3o0i0k6JgOdH7RQ6_/s1600/cess.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ZeSCRK3bWgI-t0_3O-vvgexr1c9i-bb0DoLkOck6WEk_uUFPKkDslJW4YtURWtRrS55ov2TmD1TcT5bcjHRR_8TSJr_Lbx3OBy0b6b5pRJapHHiEWvHL5dSft9j3o0i0k6JgOdH7RQ6_/s400/cess.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5786554535075299842" border="0" /></a> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-size:180%;"><span class="hascaption"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Question I posed in Facebook</span></b></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="hascaption"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana"> </span></b></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:180%;"><span class="hascaption"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">DO YOU REMEMBER YOUR FAMILY HAVING CESSPOOL PROBLEMS IN LEVITTOWN? IF SO, WHAT WERE THE TELLTALE SIGNS?</span></b></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="hascaption"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana"> </span></b></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="commentbody"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana">C</span></b></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family: Verdana">arol Binninger Mondello: <span class="commentbody">The toilet overflowing and knowing that you only flushed at that time when you did #2....no flushes on tinkles...sweeping the water out the front door....timed showers.....cesspools literally stunk....so glad when we got hooked up to a sewer system.</span><span class="hascaption"></span></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana"> </span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana">Sandy Tepper: <span class="commentbody">Telltale sign in my house was my father cursing.</span></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana"> </span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana">Dennis Champney: <span class="commentbody">Water out under the toilet. What a pain in the butt.</span></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana"> </span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana">Arnie Galeota: <span class="commentbody">The smell. We went through a lot of deodorizers.</span></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana"> </span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana">Charles DiGiovanni: <span class="commentbody">The lovely backing up in the bathroom tub. Yuck.</span></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana"> </span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana">Wendy Max Dunford: <span class="commentbody">There was a septic company in N.M. that had, on the side of its truck, "We're #1 in the #2 business".</span></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana"></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana">Marti Welch: A <span class="commentbody">soggy spot in the front lawn indicated a problem with our septic system.</span></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="commentbody"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana"> </span></b></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="font-size:14.0pt;font-family:Verdana">Toni Crescenzo Gelfer: <span class="commentbody">My Mom's obsession with anyone running the water..to get it hot or brushing your teeth..."Don't run the water, you'll fill up the cesspool". When after moving to Texas she could not stop herself from worrying.."Mom, You've got a sewer now!"..I'd have to remind her.</span></span></b><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1