Carolyn Goodman, a civil rights activist, whose son, Andrew Goodman, was killed by the Ku Klux Klan, died on Friday of natural causes. She was 91 years old.

Andrew Goodman, along with James Chaney and Michael Schwerner, was shot to death in 1964 while in Mississippi. They were there to help register black voters.

Carolyn Goodman was an assistant clinical professor emeritus of psychiatry at Albert Einstein College of Medicine of Yeshiva University in the Bronx.

According to New York 1, she created a foundation in her son’s memory and at the age of 83 she was arrested in a protest against the police shooting of Amadou Diallo.

Andrew Goodman was only 21 years old when he died. He was a graduate of the Walden School in Manhattan and was a student at Queens College at the time of his death. The Walden School dedicated a building to Goodman in the 1970’s. The building now houses the Trevor Day School.

According to the New York Times’ obituary, Carolyn and her husband received this postcard on the day of Andrew’s death,

“Dear Mom and Dad, have arrived safely in Meridian, Miss. This is a wonderful town, and the weather is fine. I wish you were here. The people in this city are wonderful, and our reception was very good. All my love, Andy.”

She told the New York Times’ in 1965:

“I still feel that I would let Andy go to Mississippi again. Even after this terrible thing happened to Andy, I couldn’t make a turnabout of everything I believe in.”

This note came from a friend who attended the reunion of the Upper West Side Progressive High School that No Longer Exists. Here are his thoughts about  that evening. 

I attended the Saturday night gathering. I loved it. It was a blast to see people I had not seen for over 30 years.

I was drawn to the reunion because I wanted to see my former teachers. I now treasure the gifts they gave me when I was a student and I wanted to thank them. What incredible gifts!

Here’s an example. My former science teacher showed me a homemade telescope one day, perhaps one of my last days in high school. I never knew it was possible to build your own telescope. My science teacher had learned the craft of telescope making on the streets of San Francisco, where a famous character, John Dobson, showed the world that one could make very powerful, very cheap telescopes. Today, I love looking at the stars. I have seen remote galaxies and beautiful, distant swirling clouds of gas. My life is has gone better, been a more charmed existence, because I have had the pleasure of peering beyond our own galaxy and been made aware of the basic features of our universe. I will remember those visions of faint, fuzzy objects all my life. I owe this gift to that day he show me what was possible, what one could do with one’s own hands and a few pieces of plywood and glass.

I attended the reunion to see my old teachers. I gave them hugs and thanked them. I had an english teacher who became a dear friend of my mother. It was wonderful to see her. I wish I had more time to talk with her. My history teacher, who now must be at least in his 70s, maybe 80s, still has the world’s most charming smile. I doubt that I appreciated it fully when I was a student. The whole reunion was worth it just to see his smile.

I went to see my teachers, but I ended up staying late talking with former classmates. I loved connecting with them, seeing their faces after 30 years. In 7th grade, a classmate and I used to constantly pass notes to each other. She reminded me how much fun we had with those notes. They made us laugh and laugh.

I could go on and on. I’ll just say one more thing. Everyone, without exception, looked really beautiful and handsome to me. The people there were radiant. What a gorgeous group! I wasn’t expecting that or thinking about it before I attended. How did these folks get to be so good looking? They were scruffy and juvenile in appearance when I saw them last. On that night, they were standing around in suits and dresses, looking like glamorous adults at the opening night of a Broadway show.

It was a delightful event. Thanks to all who helped make it happen.

Monday after the reunion, I found myself feeling sad — even depressed. I think it was for a mix of reasons:

It’s over. After all the planning and anticipation: we’re done. And with that a sense of  satisfaction, completion, and pain.

The passage of time. Watching the video from 1975 was very powerful; a connection with this other, sweet time
in my life. Seeing all of us looking so young in that old, black and white video; it was like seeing
ghosts of our former selves.

Corporeal. We are growing older. Our bodies are not the same even if our heads are.

Tired. Too much wine, too much talk, too little sleep; too much time away from OSFO and Teen Spirit, who refused to come to the family picnic.

Distracting. Living in the past for a few days was pretty distracting; it took me away from the here and now.

Re-hash. I can’t believe I said that. That was so stupid. I wish I’d talked to more people. Why didn’t I try to find so and so? Why did I write such a stupid bio for the reunion book? Why, why, why?

Re-Entry. Oh yeah: there’s lots more to my life than the 30th reunion of the Upper West Side Progressive High School that No Longer Exists. I’ve got work to do, bills to pay, children’s lives to pay attention to…

Connection. Connections were made, friendships rekindled. Wondering what will last, what will fade away.  Plus the question: how to stay connected to this far flung group of friends united by a school that exists only in our memories.

Affirmation: It meant something. That time in our life. Our need to revisit it. Our regard for one another. It meant something.

I am feeling exhausted, highly emotional, and jet lagged from traveling back in time.  In other words, the 30 year reunion of the 1976 class of the Upper West Side Progressive High School That No Longer Exists was a resounding success.

Breath.

High points included but were not limited to:

–Seeing so many friends, fellow classmates, and  teachers. 85  people in all. 

–Sitting at the name tag table and
greeting people, which gave me permission not to mingle. Also I could say: "Who are you?"

–Thoughtful, even passionate speeches by Hedge Fund, Screenwriter, and Gracious Host on their feelings about our interesting education.

–"Our Love is Here to Stay" sung by Opera Singer.

–Executive Producer and Corporate Lawyer doing stand-up and schtick.

–The warmth of our English/Film teacher, the smile of our History teacher, the enthusiasm of our principal and school director.

–Hepcat hitting it off with Gracious Host’s wife, which kept him busy most of the evening; I didn’t have to worry about him at all. And that was a relief.

–Feeling an almost familial closeness with everyone on the
planning committee; their genorosity and big heartedness.

There were low points, too. I was mostly ignored by a woman I considered a good friend all those years ago. Yes, we’ve disappeared from each other’s lives. But I had hoped we would re-connect in some way. Her affect made me wonder if she’d forgotten me or was angry that I’d made so little effort to keep the friendship alive. Or did it have nothing to do with me?

Still, it made me feel invisible.

As the evening progressed, I felt it slipping away. And that was sad. It bothered me that I didn’t talk to all the
people I wanted to talk to. And I didn’t have the meaningful conversations I
wanted to have.

But that’s to be expected. And there were plenty of great interactions. A part of me wanted to stay in that strange timezone as long as possible. Forever. To be 17…

My real life felt less and less real. But so did my 1976 self.

Who was that girl? Who is she now?  Who am I now?  Where am I going?

Deluxe party favors were arranged by Newspaper Editor, who found a treasure trove of 1/2 inch reel-to-reel video tapes of our high school musicals in Los Angeles of all places and had them transferred from 1/2 inch to DVD. 

Sunday morning, OSFO, Hepcat and I watched the DVD of  "The Follies," a musical revue of songs like Fugue for Tin Horns, Ya Gotta Have Heart, the Telephone Hour, Kids (sung by the entire staff) and Keep Your Sunnyside Up.

There was also a naughty, burlesque version of "Don’t Tell Mama" from Cabaret, featuring a group of about eight girls (myself included) alluringly dressed in black lingerie doing some sexy choreography.

I enjoyed seeing my body (so skinny, so young) and everyone else’s. Only 16, I looked pretty damn good in a thrift shop black slip (and I thought I was fat then). I wasn’t as happy about my face with my hair pulled back in a tight ponytail,  I thought my nose looked big. Yes, there was plenty to cringe about, but seeing that video was a true step back in time…

Needless to say, OSFO loves what has come to be known as "The Underwear Song."

Strange to think that I was just a year older than Teen Spirit is now; feisty, full of life, full of spunk, full of myself.  We all were. And it was a great place to be.

To have those moving pictures of us as we were then is really incredible even if the image is grainy, dark, and low-resolution. Frozen in time, we will always be singing and dancing on the stage of the UWSPHS That No Longer Exists.

Because the school and that part of ourselves will always exist.

On DVD, anyway.

(photograph of the Sunday picnic in Central Park by Hugh Crawford)

An email arrived from Opera Singer Sunday evening. In it she describes watching the DVD of our high school musical, The Follies, which was given out as a reunion party favor.

I watched the DVD last night and again with the boys this morning.  The
quality was so bad, it looked like a kinoscope from the ‘50’s!  It has
the feel of something historic, and I guess for us it is.

But the
vertigo I experienced this evening – what decade is this???? was more
than a little disconcerting.  I dusted off so many old feelings. So many feelings awakened. 

I feel a little like
Dorothy returning from Oz.
 

The other odd thing is this feeling of there being no longer anything
for us all to talk about, since the project is now complete.  I guess
there will be photos to email, addresses to upload, and some
post-mortem Yahoo emails, but it feels like a giant, “NOW WHAT?” 

That
said, I also am glad it’s over. Curiosity satisfied.  Mission
accomplished.

 

Screenwriter, Opera Singer  and I spent the better part of the afternoon together at Screenwriter’s house in Park Slope. We listened to the playlist that Opera Singer put together of mid-seventies music through Teen Spirit’s bass amp which I lugged over from Third Street. The playlist is great…shhh it’s a secret.

Screenwriter set up the video projector and we looked at the montage of digital photos of the yearbook projected on the wall.

Later, we went through the program from beginning to end. Screenwriter practiced her speech, which is, of course, beautifully written. Opera Singer and I applauded her.

I got to practice my opening remarks and all my intros to the speakers.  Opera Singer played us the two songs she is choosing between for the show. We decided which one she should sing. Shhhh. It’s a secret.

Over at Screenwriter’s I don’t know what pocessed me, I sent an email to the group that went like this:

ME: Are we having a table in front where people who haven’t paid can pay? What about name tags? I know it’s dopey but for the spouses, friends
and teachers it could be a good idea. Also a way to get people to
stop at the table. Thoughts on the matter?

This innocent question provoked quite an in depth discussion of name tags and other related issues.

CORPORATE LAWYER: What about pictures?  Will people bring cameras? 
Should we get disposables?

CORPORATE LAWYER: Who?

MAGAZINE PUBLISHER: Who will do them. I am out of town, sorry.

FORMER PRINCIPAL: We just need blank name tags and some felt-tipped pensat the entrance for people to write their own names. Everyone should be encouraged to do it.  Though classmates may recognize each other (though doubtful) and you don’t want to say, "You’ve changed so much Idid not recognize you!"), the faculty will definitely be challenged.  As an example, it is clear from reaction to my photo on the website  no one recognized me in my bald state after I lost my long flowing, silk-like hair….(except Louise – thank you, Louise).Can someone there pick up the name tags at a stationary store with a few relatively wide felt-tips (not too thin, can’t read; black is best)?  If not, I will bring from Ohio.

HEDGE FUND: I will take care of the name tags.

Problem solved—thanks to Hedge Fund. One of the things we learned at the Upper West Side Progressive High School That No Longer Exists is how to work together. Cooperation.

Appropos of that, Screenwriter sent me an email with an interesting observation: "The  reunion planning committee is ALMOST IDENTICAL to the class of ‘76
yearbook committee!!  Even Magazine Publisher was on the yearbook, I
didn’t remember that. Funny how nothing ever changes."

Four more days and then all this planning will be over. Four more days…

Countdown to the 30th high school reunion of the Upper West Side progressive high school that no longer exists.

I’ve been looking forward to it for months but all of a sudden I am sort of dreading it. Again. The planning has been kinda of fun. More than once I’ve felt that the planning satisfied any need for a reunion. We met about six times over as many months – for dinners at Gracious Host’s art filled apartment, at the restaurant where we’re having the party.

Do we really need a reunion, afterall?

And what am I going to say to all those other people. Just yesterday another classmate was tracked down. She and her husband are coming. They are kosher so they said they wouldn’t be  eating. A spirited e-mail conversation ensued among the reunion planning team.

Hedge Fund: We did not make arrangements for kosher food.  It would probably be a nice gesture if we did.

Corporate Lawyer: Usually, the restaurant can organize them.  If not, there’s various kosher places around that will deliver.  Someone can check Zagat, but I am up to my ass in alligators this week.

Hedge Fund: That’s easy for you to say…Where should we seek out these two boxed kosher dinners?

Magazine Publisher: Don’t ya think there’s enough vegaterian stuff that will suffice?

Corporate Lawyer: Beats the s–t out of me.  Y’know, they seemed resigned to not eating, so maybe we should just not complicate our lives.

Hedge Fund: I’ll ask. If they can accommodate us, fine. If not, they do seem resigned to starvation

Corporate Lawyer: Avadim hayenu, we were slaves….

Magazine Publisher: Geez, no good deed…

Newspaper Editor: By the way, i only eat food that’s halal now.

Former High School Principal: I’m on a gluten-free diet  and I am lactose-intolerant…

Corporate Lawyer: I’m going home now

Magazine Publisher: You guys are soooooo bad…

Hysterical. For me at least.

Meanwhile, Screenwriter, Opera Singer and I are set to meet today to go over the program. We’re testing out the amp, microphone, the video projector, our speeches. We’ll be dry-running through the show. Opera Singer may even sing the song she’s planning on singing on Saturday night.

Again, who needs the reunion? Let’s just do it at Screenwriter’s house and call it a day. There’s lots to do this week in preparation for the event like…

…ah, make myself look the way I looked 30 years ago. Well, that ain’t gonna happen. We’ll see what Frajean can do for me (stylist to the Slope)…and I still haven’t figured out what I’m going to wear.                  

With less than a month to to go before their 30th reunion, the reunion committee of the Upper West Side progressive high school that no longer exists is getting a little testy as this email chain demonstrates. It begins with a query from GRACIOUS HOST, the guiding force behind the reunion itself.

    The invitations are out…Are the replies rolling in? I’m just curious if we have any sense of how many people (and who) will be attending this shindig. Those of you who know should let the rest of us know.

HEDGE FUND, the Chairman of our Finance Committee, is getting the RSVP’s at his office. He told me that he’s only gotten eight so far but he hasn’t let the group know yet. LIFE INSURANCE wants to know what happens if people do not RSVP.

    What are the plans for people who show up and haven’t RSVP’ed. Will there be the appearance of the expectation of a contribution?

Obviously, the reunion committee doesn’t want to be left holding the bag. CORPORATE LAWYER had this to say.

    I would expect so (other than faculty and staff).  There’s no such thing as a free lunch (or cocktails and heavy hors d’oeuvres).  I presume that people realize there is no longer a school (or even an alumni association) to bankroll this thing (and if they don’t realize that, they really must have smoked their way through high school (and college and beyond).

CORPORATE LAWYER even took a stab at solving this rather vexing potential problem.

    Do you have any particular freeloaders in mind? Beyond the question of "if" there is the question of "how" (if we have name tags, we will need a table to put them on, and we can put a sign up there, perhaps).  Or HEDGE FUND can walk around with a little change apron and a green eye shade (probably his usual office attire, anyway)…..

Later in the day came this missive from a newcomer to the reunion committee.

    For the address I had for OUR ART TEACHER, mail returned no forwarding info.

It was met by this rather sobering reply from EXECUTIVE PRODUCER.

    I think he is dead, hence no forwarding address.

Ouch. As you can see, things are a tad prickly in Reunionland. HEDGE FUND is off on a business trip — and, apparently, not checking his PDA. So far, he hasn’t responded to the  anxious queries from his fellow classmates. I informed the group of the eight responses so far.

In the good news department: I received a small package by Royal Mail from the eBay seller. The CD,  "Papa John Creach," arrived in perfect condition. Accompanied by a stellar group of musical luminaries including, Grace Slick, Paul Kantner, Jorma Kaukonen, Jerry Garcia, and other luminaries, Papa John Creach plays jazz and blues violin on songs like "St. Louis Blues," "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," and "The Janitor Drives A Cadillac."

This evening, I listened to Papa’s mournful version of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" and was transported back to our graduation day just about 30 years ago. It was such a perfect choice for that solemn march — all of us on the precipice of something new.

For the reunion, I envision seeing yearbook pictures of every one of our classmates as the song plays. I might add, that we had creative control over our yearbook pages and many of the pictures are really cool. I haven’t figured out how we’re going to do it but I think it will add a lot to the evening’s schmaltz factor – an essential component of a reunion – even the reunion of the Upper West Side progressive high school that no longer exists.

This morning I got word from eBay that I was the highest bidder on the Papa John Creach CD called "One Way" at eBay – and am buying the CD from a seller in England. I’d almost forgotten that I’d bid on the CD in the first place.

Thirty years ago, TV PRODUCER had a copy of the record album. A record album. Imagine that. Now I’m buying the CD.

I am so glad that I will soon have the music that we  used at our graduation 30 years ago. As I remember it, it’s a beautiful, almost haunting violin rendition of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow."

It feels important to have that music at the reunion.  I wonder how long it will take to get here from England. The seller better hurry. The reunion is a month away.

Now the e-mail group is talking about the mix tape we’ll be playing. OPERA SINGER and her son were planning to do an iPod mix of music we listened to in high school.

My cool iPod mix would be The Band, Joni Mitchell, Janis Joplin (d. 1970), Bob Dylan, Cat Stevens,  Laura Nyro, Stones, Carly Simon, Stevie Wonder (Fufillingness First Finale) Aretha Franklin, Carole King, Bette Midler, Loudon Wainwright, Billie Holiday, Jackson Brown, Neil Young, Paul Simon (There Goes’ Rhymin’ Simon),  Bruce Springsteen (the Wild, the Innocent, The E Street Shuffle). I will keep adding as I remember what I used to listen to…

Blondie, Talking Heads, Television, The Roches, Patti Smith, The McGarrigles — that was my first year in college.

Now some members of the class who left before high school (it was a pre-k through high school school) want us to play music from their years at the school.

That’s a pretty tall order. Music from 1961-1976. I think we should probably just stick with 1973-1976. But that’s my opinion.

Congratulations! You committed to buy the following item:

Papa John Creach, 1997 One Way Records
Sale price:     GBP 0.50
Quantity:     1
Subtotal:     GBP 0.50
Shipping & Handling:    
Royal Mail 1st Class Standard:     GBP 1.50
Royal Mail Airmail:     GBP 2.70
Royal Mail Airmail:     GBP 4.50
Royal Mail Surface Mail:     GBP 2.50

The 30th reunion planning group of the Upper West Side progressive
high school (UWSPHS) that no longer exists met last night at the Pastel Colored Italian Restaurant uptown.

It was actually a lot of fun. I was a little aprehensive because all the other females on the planning committee sent their regrets. So it was just me and six guys from high school.

Before they knew I was coming, one email said, "Have fun at the boy’s night out." That made me self-conscious and I wondered if these guys wanted it to be a guy thing so they could act like obnoxious high school guys.

Well, they didn’t act like obnoxious high school guys at all. And we managed to have a great meal, not too many drinks, various small conversations; a good time. We even discussed issues related to the reunion. So that was good, too.

We talked about who we think is coming and who is still missing. CORPORATE LAWYER  suggested we get a private detective to find the missing people. But my feeling is: that would be going a bit too far. Not everyone wants to be dragged out of the woodwork to go to their high school reunion.

The invitations have been sent out. HEDGE FUND will be getting the checks (of course) and the RSVP’s. We’re all on tenter hooks waiting to see who’s coming.

MAGAZINE PUBLISHER had the invitations designed by her staff at the magazine and they look very fancy, very official, very cool. There’s a picture of ye olde alma mater on the cover and a well-worded, wedding-like invite on the inside.

We are delighted to invite you to the  30th reunion of our long-lost, often missed (by some) high school.

There’s also a very funny survey written by TV PRODUCER AND CORPORATE LAWYER, and a questionaire for biographical information. Some of the questions were quite funny:

–What have you been doing for the last 30 years?
–What are you doing now? (not right now)

–What teacher is famous for this quote? “A asquared plusa Beeasquared isa Seeasquared”

From my high school days I hope I was best remembered as:
–The best student
–The most popular
–The most witty
–The best athlete
–The kid who could belch the loudest
–The most likely to succeed
–I just hope I was remembered

And of course, the expected drug question:

My recreational drug use has

–Increased now that I don’t worry about (first name of principal) suspending me
–Decreased from my high school days
–Been replaced by prescription drugs
–Can you ask the question again?

As the head of the Program Committee, I am now looking for a CD by rock violinist,  PAPA JOHN CREACH. The album is called, "One Way."  We used his gorgeous version of "Over the Rainbow" as our graduation music (no Pomp and Circumstance for this crowd).

I found one copy of the CD on eBay from a seller in Great Britain. I bid $5 dollars and am hoping to be the highest bidder — it’s at 89 cents right now. I guess it’s not a very popular CD but it means a lot to the class of 1976 of the UWSPHS. Papa John Creach did play with the Jefferson Airplane and Hot Tuna. Whatever.

Now all we can do is wait. To see if I’m the highest bidder, to see who responds to the invites. All we can do is wait.

The group planning the 30th reunion of the Upper West Side progressive high school (UWSPHS) that no longer exists met last night at a pastel colored Italian restaurant on the UWS that has a screened off party area perfect for about 80 people.

We gathered at the bar for a tasting of the food the waiters will be passing around at the party. There will be no sit-down dinner: "Who wants to be stuck sitting next to someone at a reunion," someone said.

Present at the meeting were: MAGAZINE PUBLISHER, SCREENWRITER, CORPORATE LAWYER, INSURANE SALESMAN and GRACIOUS HOST (so-named because he has gracously hosted all the other meetings thus far) and OTBKB.

HEDGE FUND, OPERA SINGER, REAL ESTATE AGENT, and TELEVISION PRODUCER were unable to attend.  There was an email that suggested that all or some of them were haunting the event. Other words were deemed more appropriate. HEDGE FUND wrote:

Haunting" this event? Surely you meant to use a different word. "Titillating?" "inspiring?" "stimulating?" motivating?". CORPORATE LAWYER – help me out here – you still have that cool vocab, yes?

To which CORPORATE LAWYER suggested the word: "Permeating."

So for the group present and those who were permeating the meeting, there were many matters to discuss and it took forever to get around to the agenda that was prepared by GRACIOUS HOST. Because we were a small group and we were in a restaurant the evening had an even more social feel than the other meetings. There was more catching up, pictures being passed around, questions: "So what does your husband do?" or "Where did you go to law school?" or "Your parents were holocaust survivors, I didn’t know that?" or "My daughter has terrible stomach aches…"

People were conversing across the table, diagonally, and side to side. It was a bit of a conversational cacophony but it was easy to slip in and out of conversations.

The past still looms large, even for this group that has met four times to plan the event. Axes to grind, old situations to discuss, stuff…

The biggest issue of the night was news that we have to change the date. CORPORATE LAWYER e-mailed the group  earlier in the week that he would be unable to attend the event due to the timing of a company retreat. The group agreed to try to find another day for the event. A humorous e-mail went out:

So is the invite going to read?:
CORPORATE LAWYER
AND THE UWSPHS THAT NO LONGER EXISTS
CLASS OF ’76
INVITE YOU TO CELEBRATE
OUR 30TH REUNION
ON A DATE CONVENIENT
TO CORPORATE LAWYER
I need to get this to the printers asap so just let me know.

That made me laugh. Last night when we finally got down to business, we moved quickly through the agenda interupted only by courtesy glasses of Italian liquer and dessert.  There is some disagreement as to whether there should be a program at all. Everyone agrees to keep it short. MAGAZINE PUBLISHER feels that "People are there to talk to each other — not to listen to speeches." She was glaring at me as she said that because I was the one who came up with the idea of the program. Music has pretty much been ruled out. "Nobody wants to hear a jazz band that they never cared about to begin with," she said. CORPORATE LAWYER looked crushed; he was the band’s saxophone player and is pining for a chance to blow his horn.

The program at this point will be speeches by GRACIOUS HOST, SCREENWRITER, HEDGE FUND, TELEVISION PRODUCER AND CORPORATE LAWYER, MAGAZINE PUBLISHER will lead a memorial to a classmate who died a few years ago.

In the last few days, NEWSPAPER EDITOR uncovered a treasure trove of videos in Los Angeles of all places from our days at the UWSPHS That No Longer Exists. It seems that someone (who now lives in LA) had the wherewithal to grab all the video tapes before the school closed down (and tossed these tapes in a big trash dumpster). SMART THINKING. Musicals, plays, performances, assemblies, a documentary made back then – it’s all in L.A.

It remains to be seen what format it is in (2 inch reel to reel video was the format back in 1976) and whether we’re going to show it at the reunion. If MAGAZINE PUBLISHER is right: no one wants to see it. Now, we’re talking about making a DVD of the highlights and giving that out as a party favor.

SCREENWRITER AND I took a cab home with GRACIOUS HOST and CORPORATE LAWYER. They got off in lower Manhattan, of course, and we continued on to Brooklyn. We counted the number of glasses of wine we’d had  (5,6, I lost count). The waiters were keeping it flowing. The restaurant was wining and dining us – I guess they want the gig.  Sambuca on the house. Consequently we were spinning a bit, a little drunk, tipsy.

When Screenwriter got out of the cab, the driver, who was wearing a bright red turban, asked me if we were lawyers. No, I said. I told him we were all friends from 30 years ago. "We went to high school together."

"I see," he said. "I see."

GRACIOUS HOST ordered delicious platters of sushi for the third meeting of the planning committee for the 30th high school reunion of the Upper West Side high school that no longer exists.

MAGAZINE PUBLISHER brought an incredibly thorough list of possible venues for the reunion. The group tentatively decided on an Italian restaurant not far from where the high school was located. The group is set to meet there in March for a tasting menu.

Progress is being made tracking down missing classmates. Someone from the class of 1975 attended the meeting and promises to notify his classmates as well. We were informed that the class of 1977 have had two (count ’em) two reunions and NEVER invited anyone from our class.

A member of our group made a motion disallow that class from attending our reunion on the grounds that they left us out twice. Rejected. There were some great people in that class.

Apparently their reunion was more low-key. It was held in someone’s apartment. And they didn’t have a show or anything. Figures.

There was a heated discussion about what to charge for the event. Most in the group felt that $100 dollars per person was fair and would cover costs. SCHOOL DIRECTOR felt that it was a bit steep, especially for teachers. "You all look pretty affluent," she said. "But not everyone is." The group decided not to charge teachers for the event. We also agreed that there should be a scholarship fund for those who could not afford to come.  The bigger problem is: how do we communicate that without making people feel uncomfortable. It was decided that HEDGE FUND, who is chair of the Finance committe, would be charged with figuring all that kind of stuff out. He wasn’t there to disagree.

SCREENWRITER and I presented our ideas for a 30-minute program of speeches, video, music, and possibly a karate chop demonstration by our zany principal, something he did at our high school graduation. We want to touch briefly on the history of the school, why it closed, etc.

The group asked OPERA SINGER if she would perform an aria at the reunion. She seemed a little uncomfortable with the idea. She had something lighter like a Gershwin song in mind.  There was a request for a reunion of the jazz band but EXECUTIVE PRODUCER, the drummer, didn’t seem interested.

GRACIOUS HOST and SCREENWRITER volunteered to make speeches. EXECUTIVE PRODUCER and CORPORATE LAWYER agreed to develop a comic segment. MAGAZINE PUBLISHER will write a short tribute to our classmate who died. We’ve yet to ask HEDGE FUND or EDITORIAL PAGE EDITOR if they want to make a speeches. The show cannot exceed 30-minutes – people want to talk and catch up, not watch a show – so speakers must limit their words to 3 minutes or less.  BREVITY, please.

The way we’re putting this reunion together is reminding me of the "let’s put on a show" style of our high school life. It seemed like we were always planning something – a trip to West Virigina, a musical revue, a video documentary about Boston busing, a school television show on public access, an economic summit, a jazz performance, a play, a women’s day, a week of mini-sessions, which included student-taught courses in impressionism, songwriting, building a student lounge, exploring New York City, cooking.

It was a creative place to spend a few years. Many in the class feel that our education was a bit spotty and that they were ill-prepared for college. But the school was very much of its time. It was, afterall, the last of the truly progressive schools, where more emphasis was put on a love of learning and a sense of empowerment, than on, well, more traditional pursuits. We did feel empowered – we learned how to  make things happen. That is really the legacy of our time there.

After the reunion, SCREENWRITER, OPERA SINGER, and I went to Kitchen 22, a bar on 22nd Street and did barely any gossiping about the meeting. And that’s the truth. We were reunioned-ed out at that point and needed to think about some other stuff for a while.

This 30th high school reunion business has been going on for two weeks and I am finding myself quite distracted by the e-mail chain that keeps popping up in my in-box.

It’s like high school all over again (albeit a virtual one): I’m not getting any work done because it’s too much fun getting to know these old friends via e-mail. This morning, I received the following Minutes about last Monday night’s meeting.

"We met to discuss a potential 30th reunion for our class, to make some preliminary decisions, to catch up, and to eat take-out Chinese food.  Focus was on two issues:  Who do we invite/how do we find people and what is the event/what are we doing when we get there.

Just seven of us were able to attend, but a few more have joined the e-mail chain. It’s like high school all over again: everyone wants to be invited to the party.

I am feeling connected to people I haven’t felt connected to in years and am actually  looking forward to our next meeting in January. At the first meeting, I think everyone was testing the waters to see if they really wanted there to be a reunion at all. Certainly, there was trepedation on the part of some of the participants. I know I felt it: Do I want to do this let alone help organize it?

But these reservations were put to rest by the good feeling engendered by our meeting and the take-out Chinese food feast. The Minutes confirm this.

1) We really would like to have a reunion.  That is to say, we were not totally sick of each other by the end of the evening.  And we all had a good time (I think)

2) We understand that there will be challenges associated with having a reunion for a non-existent school — primarily that we will need to do all of the work.

3) But on the other hand, we won

The first planning meeting for the 30th high school reunion of the class of 1976 of a unnamed progressive high school on the Upper West Side of Manhattan that no longer exists was really a lot of fun.

On my way to the meeting,  I found myself feeling angry: Why am I going to this? Do I really want to see these
people? What do I have to say to anyone?

Typical social jitters.

Catching my reflection in a shop window I decided that I looked
terrible but it was too late to change my clothes, get my hair cut, or have a make-over at Saks. Instead, I ordered a glass of wine at Kitchen 22, a small bar on East 22nd Street. 

I didn’t want to be too early.

When I got to my classmate’s loft, he was very welcoming, as was
another old friend who was already there. I was offered a glass of
wine and everything just flowed from there.

The host is, in a sense, the keeper of our high school flame. Somehow he
knows the whereabouts of many of our class of 30,  as well as teachers
and administrators.

As more people arrived, there was much in the way of playful arguing, laughing, interupting, and goofing around. Just like high school.  The fact that we were imbibing some very decent red wine was not at all like high school.

Someone brought a copy of our yearbook. As a group, we looked at everyone’s  page. With only 30 kids in the graduating class, everyone got to have and design their own.

Mine had a moody picture of me in a felt hat and a work shirt, as well as some  childhood
pictures.

It was interesting to read all the yearbook quotes; everyone’s message to the world.  Back then, I spent weeks trying to figure what I wanted mine to be; it seemed so important to pick just the right quote that would express what I thinking about or what I wanted people to think I was  thinking about all those years ago.

I ended up selecting an Emily Dickinson poem that my father brought to my attention. It was between that and a verse from "You’ve Got to Learn How to Fall," the Paul Simon song. Emily Dickinson won the day.

We play at paste,
Till qualified for pearl,
Then drop the paste,
And deem ourself a fool.
The shapes, though, were similar,
And our new hands
Learned gem-tactics
Practicing sands.

Over Chinese food, the de-facto runion committee talked about how we were going to get in touch with some of the more mysterious members of our class.

And we ran through the list of those who probably wouldn’t show up like the guy who ran around the auditorium during one assembly wearing a mask and screaming at the top of his lungs,

It was amazing how little bragging went on last night; no showing off about careers, children, spouses, homes, cars, second homes and all that. We were a room full of haves and have mores. That is, everyone is doing pretty well. Some are doing very, very, very well. Some less.  Money-wise, that is.

As to happiness, you can never really tell. But it did seem like a pretty upbeat bunch who are,  for the most part, happy with their lot.

That may be the difference between a 10th reunion and a 30th. Perhaps we’re all a little more comfortable in our skins now. I remember back at the 10th feeling like everyone was, in subtle and not so subtle ways, on the defensive about themselves, their careers, their relationships, their choices.

Last night’s planning meeting was really low key in that regard. I hope this ‘comfortable in our own skinness’ sets the tone for the reunion itself.

Before we knew it, it was after ten and everyone had to get home to spouses and children. Our time together passed effortlessly. Much was accomplished, too: we set a tentative date and place for the reunion. And we have a big list of tasks for everyone to take care of before the next meeting.

Keep you posted.