counterpunch
NEWS UPDATE
6-7-2014
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Thursday, June 12, 2014
*In Honor Of Our Class-War Prisoners- Free All The Class-War Prisoners!-Marshall Eddie Conway
http://www.thejerichomovement.com/prisoners.html
A link above to more information about the class-war prisoner honored in this entry.
Make June Class-War Prisoners Freedom Month
Markin comment (reposted from 2010)
In “surfing” the National Jericho Movement Website recently in order to find out more, if possible, about class- war prisoner and 1960s radical, Marilyn Buck, whom I had read about in a The Rag Blog post I linked to the Jericho list of class war prisoners. I found Marilyn Buck listed there but also others, some of whose cases, like that of the “voice of the voiceless” Pennsylvania death row prisoner, Mumia Abu-Jamal, are well-known and others who seemingly have languished in obscurity. All of the cases, at least from the information that I could glean from the site, seemed compelling. And all seemed worthy of far more publicity and of a more public fight for their freedom.
That last notion set me to the task at hand. Readers of this space know that I am a longtime supporter of the Partisan Defense Committee, a class struggle, non-sectarian legal and social defense organization which supports class war prisoners as part of the process of advancing the international working class’ struggle for socialism. In that spirit I am honoring the class war prisoners on the National Jericho Movement list this June as the start of what I hope will be an on-going attempt by all serious leftist militants to do their duty- fighting for freedom for these brothers and sisters. We will fight out our political differences and disagreements as a separate matter. What matters here and now is the old Wobblie (IWW) slogan - An injury to one is an injury to all.
Note: This list, right now, is composed of class-war prisoners held in American detention. If others are likewise incarcerated that are not listed here feel free to leave information on their cases in the comment section. Likewise any cases, internationally, that come to your attention. I am sure there are many, many such cases out there. Make this June, and every June, a Class-War Prisoners Freedom Month- Free All Class-War Prisoners Now!
*In Honor Of Our Class-War Prisoners- Free All The Class-War Prisoners!- Byron Shane Chubbuck
http://www.thejerichomovement.com/prisoners.html
A link above to more information about the class-war prisoner honored in this entry.
Make June Class-War Prisoners Freedom Month
Markin comment (reposted from 2010)
In “surfing” the National Jericho Movement Website recently in order to find out more, if possible, about class- war prisoner and 1960s radical, Marilyn Buck, whom I had read about in a The Rag Blog post I linked to the Jericho list of class war prisoners. I found Marilyn Buck listed there but also others, some of whose cases, like that of the “voice of the voiceless” Pennsylvania death row prisoner, Mumia Abu-Jamal, are well-known and others who seemingly have languished in obscurity. All of the cases, at least from the information that I could glean from the site, seemed compelling. And all seemed worthy of far more publicity and of a more public fight for their freedom.
That last notion set me to the task at hand. Readers of this space know that I am a longtime supporter of the Partisan Defense Committee, a class struggle, non-sectarian legal and social defense organization which supports class war prisoners as part of the process of advancing the international working class’ struggle for socialism. In that spirit I am honoring the class war prisoners on the National Jericho Movement list this June as the start of what I hope will be an on-going attempt by all serious leftist militants to do their duty- fighting for freedom for these brothers and sisters. We will fight out our political differences and disagreements as a separate matter. What matters here and now is the old Wobblie (IWW) slogan - An injury to one is an injury to all.
Note: This list, right now, is composed of class-war prisoners held in American detention. If others are likewise incarcerated that are not listed here feel free to leave information on their cases in the comment section. Likewise any cases, internationally, that come to your attention. I am sure there are many, many such cases out there. Make this June, and every June, a Class-War Prisoners Freedom Month- Free All Class-War Prisoners Now!
*In Honor Of Our Class-War Prisoners- Free All The Class-War Prisoners!- Ruben Campa
http://www.thejerichomovement.com/prisoners.html
A link above to more information about the class-war prisoner honored in this entry.
Make June Class-War Prisoners Freedom Month
Markin comment (reposted from 2010)
In “surfing” the National Jericho Movement Website recently in order to find out more, if possible, about class- war prisoner and 1960s radical, Marilyn Buck, whom I had read about in a The Rag Blog post I linked to the Jericho list of class war prisoners. I found Marilyn Buck listed there but also others, some of whose cases, like that of the “voice of the voiceless” Pennsylvania death row prisoner, Mumia Abu-Jamal, are well-known and others who seemingly have languished in obscurity. All of the cases, at least from the information that I could glean from the site, seemed compelling. And all seemed worthy of far more publicity and of a more public fight for their freedom.
That last notion set me to the task at hand. Readers of this space know that I am a longtime supporter of the Partisan Defense Committee, a class struggle, non-sectarian legal and social defense organization which supports class war prisoners as part of the process of advancing the international working class’ struggle for socialism. In that spirit I am honoring the class war prisoners on the National Jericho Movement list this June as the start of what I hope will be an on-going attempt by all serious leftist militants to do their duty- fighting for freedom for these brothers and sisters. We will fight out our political differences and disagreements as a separate matter. What matters here and now is the old Wobblie (IWW) slogan - An injury to one is an injury to all.
Note: This list, right now, is composed of class-war prisoners held in American detention. If others are likewise incarcerated that are not listed here feel free to leave information on their cases in the comment section. Likewise any cases, internationally, that come to your attention. I am sure there are many, many such cases out there. Make this June, and every June, a Class-War Prisoners Freedom Month- Free All Class-War Prisoners Now!
*In Honor Of Our Class-War Prisoners- Free All The Class-War Prisoners!- Fred “Muhammad” Burton
http://www.thejerichomovement.com/prisoners.html
A link above to more information about the class-war prisoner honored in this entry.
Make June Class-War Prisoners Freedom Month
Markin comment (reposted from 2010)
In “surfing” the National Jericho Movement Website recently in order to find out more, if possible, about class- war prisoner and 1960s radical, Marilyn Buck, whom I had read about in a The Rag Blog post I linked to the Jericho list of class war prisoners. I found Marilyn Buck listed there but also others, some of whose cases, like that of the “voice of the voiceless” Pennsylvania death row prisoner, Mumia Abu-Jamal, are well-known and others who seemingly have languished in obscurity. All of the cases, at least from the information that I could glean from the site, seemed compelling. And all seemed worthy of far more publicity and of a more public fight for their freedom.
That last notion set me to the task at hand. Readers of this space know that I am a longtime supporter of the Partisan Defense Committee, a class struggle, non-sectarian legal and social defense organization which supports class war prisoners as part of the process of advancing the international working class’ struggle for socialism. In that spirit I am honoring the class war prisoners on the National Jericho Movement list this June as the start of what I hope will be an on-going attempt by all serious leftist militants to do their duty- fighting for freedom for these brothers and sisters. We will fight out our political differences and disagreements as a separate matter. What matters here and now is the old Wobblie (IWW) slogan - An injury to one is an injury to all.
Note: This list, right now, is composed of class-war prisoners held in American detention. If others are likewise incarcerated that are not listed here feel free to leave information on their cases in the comment section. Likewise any cases, internationally, that come to your attention. I am sure there are many, many such cases out there. Make this June, and every June, a Class-War Prisoners Freedom Month- Free All Class-War Prisoners Now!
***The Roots Is The Toots-The Music That Got The Generation Of ’68 Through The 1950s Red Scare Cold War Night-The Teen Queens’ Eddie, My Love
…come closer, will you, because I have got a story to tell. Come on over here, here nearer me and get away from that midnight phone waiting, that eternal waiting. Waiting now in vain because if he or she has not called by this hour, nine, on a school night they are not going to call and anyway you don’t need Ma to yell at you about wasting your time waiting for that call when you could be doing homework or something. Yeah, like you could do homework with your head filled with anxiety about that call. What do parents know anyway never having been young, never having been in love. Hey, while I am talking maybe you should put on The Teen Queens’ Eddie My Love like I have on right now or some other teen trauma tune, sad, sad tune to help drown your sorrows while I’m telling the story,
Yes, get away from that midnight telephone call wait by your bedside table and listen up a minute or two because I’ve got a story to tell, a 1950s teen story to tell, or let’s make it a 1950s teen story, and if it works out for 1960s, 1970s, or 2000s teens except for the newer techno-gadgets cellphone, iPhone, smart phone ways to wait, to wait that midnight call that are different, well, well this waiting by the phone hasn’t changed that much since the 1950s when this trend started or reached a certain plateau where waiting became one of the ways that you knew you were a forlorn teen-ager, knew that life was going to be filled with ups and downs and so there you have it.
And let’s make it a boy-girl story, although I know, and you know I know, that it could have been a boy-boy, girl-girl, whatever story and that’s okay by me, except that it wouldn’t be okay, okay as a public prints 1950s story since those kinds of relationships had not been deemed okay to tell except maybe in some North Beach, Greenwich Village, Hollywood hills small print, exotic, erotic small press back door scenario. Mainly those kinds of relationships would be gist for the mill in the snicker of boys’ sports after school gym locker room faggot-dyke baiting and well beyond the sad tale I have to tell.
And let’s make it a Saturday night, a hard by the phone, waiting Saturday night, maybe midnight, maybe not, maybe you cried or brooded yourself to sleep before that hour, that teen dread hour when all dreams came crashing to the floor, like a million guys and girls know about, and if you don’t then, maybe move on, but I think I know who I’m talking to.
And let’s make it a winter night to kind of fit your mood, kind of make you realize that you are totally alone against the elements, yes, a long hard winter night, wind maybe blowing up a little, maybe a little dusting of snow, and just that many more dark hours until the dawn and facing another day without…
And let’s make it, oh the hell with that, let’s make it get to the story and we’ll work out the scenic details as we go along.
I’ll tell you, Betty’s got it bad, yes, Betty from across the way, from the house across the way where right now I can see her in her midnight waiting bedroom window, staring off, staring off somewhere but I know, I know, what ‘s wrong with her. No, not that, no she is not in the “family way,” I don’t think, I hope not, hope not because then she will have to suddenly go out of town to visit some ailing aunt, or something like that. What is wrong with Betty is simpler. Her Eddie has flown the coop, and has not been heard from for a while.
Yes, Betty’s got it bad, and it’s too bad because she deserves better. Let me tell you the story behind the story, although I can already see that you might know what’s coming. I had noticed Betty’s change of behavior but was not sure what it meant. It first started when she did not return my wave when I waved across the street to her, then she would hang her head down walking like some zombie in the movies. So one day I asked her about what was up and she said she did not want to talk about it, made a serious point to me that she did not want to talk about it when I pressed the issue so I let it drop. Yes, so the way I know the story is because Betty’s best friend, Sue, gave me the details when I saw Betty continue moping around, moping around day after day like there was going to be no tomorrow, especially after leaving school with her head down, arriving home with her head moping down even more after the mailman came. I contacted Sue to see what she knew, knew from those little afternoon girl chatting calls or maybe from that mandatory Monday morning before school in the girls’ “lav” talkfest.
Yes, I know, I know Sue, old best friend Sue, is nothing but a man-trap and has flirted with more guys in this town than you could shake a stick at, including Eddie a couple of times when Betty had to go out of town with her parents (keep that between us, please). Hell, now that I think about it, I’ll get this thing all balled up if I tell it my way what with what I know, or people have told me about Sue and I want you to get the straight dope. Let Betty, old true to Eddie, Betty tell her story herself, or at least through Sue, and I’ll just write it down my way, and you be the judge:
“Last summer, oh sweet sixteen last summer, old innocent girlish sweet paper dream last summer, Eddie, Eddie Cooper, Eddie with the hot cherry red, dual exhaust, heavy silver chrome, radio- blasting, ’55 Chevy (my brother Timmy told me about cars and their doo-dads, I just like to look good in them and the ’55 is the “boss”), that I knew I would be just crazy to sit in, and give the “look”, the superior “I’m with a hot guy, and sitting in a hot car , bow down peasants look,” came rumbling and tumbling into town.
Summer beach time, soaking up the sun down between the yacht clubs beach time, summer not a care in the world time , Sue, my best friend Sue, my best friend Sue and all that stuff they say about her and the boys is just fantasy, male fantasy, and I were sitting just talking about this and that, oh well, about boys, and I was telling her the latest about Billy, Billy from the neighborhood, who I had been going out with for ages, more or less, Billy with the reading too many books and wanting to talk poetry or “beat” stuff, Billy, Billy with the no car, or sometimes with car, father’s old run-down jalopy which might or might not work like happened one night and it was a close thing that I was not grounded for coming in so late, but no “boss” car, never, when Eddie, Eddie, Edward John Cooper, parked his honey Chevy and came over to us, through all that sand and all,
Eddie gave Sue the “once over,” like guys will do automatically with any girl something about their genetic make-up drives them that way and Sue adds her part by always looking like she has either just finished a roll in the hay or would not mind being talked into it but that is just her come-hither “style” and like I said before don’t make too much of it. Yeah, she knows sex stuff, a lot from what she tells me but mostly it’s to aid that come-hither thing she has with guys. Besides whatever Sue has, or thinks she has in the guy department I secretly thrill to know that that “once over” is just a game because even as he came over the sand I could see he had eyes, big blue eyes, for me, only me, We talked, idle talk, sex in the air flirty talk, don’t talk sex straight out but weave all around it talk, the mating ritual I guess they call it, still a lot of talk for a summer beach day, and I knew, I swear I knew he wanted to ask me out for later, or maybe right there to ride in his car but three’s company, and for once I couldn’t shake Sue, my best friend Sue, Sue with the million boyfriends so she says, who I could see was taken in by his big blued-eyed, black haired, tight tee-shirt, blue jean charm too.
Truce, Sue truce, as we walked home, Eddie-less, a few blocks away. I left Sue at her house. Truce still, except that I heard a big engine, a big “boss” car engine, coming up behind me as I hit the sidewalk in front of my house, and dream, dream wake me up, it was Eddie, Edward John Cooper and that cherry ’55 Chevy. He said, and I will never forget this, “Hop in,” and opened the door. I was supposed to have a “date,” some dreary poetry reading date with Billy, ah, Billy who. We were off as soon as I closed that cherry red door.
And we were off, off for a sweet summer of love, ’55 Chevy love and okay, truth, because I know that Sue probably blabbed it around but I let Eddie take me to the back seat of that warm-bodied Chevy one night, and some nights after that. But let me just tell you this about Sue, my best friend Sue, honest, she’s the one who told me what to do with a boy, yah, she told me everything.
Late August came as summer beach love drew to an end and those damn school bells seemed ready to ring, Eddie, out of school Eddie my love, told me he had a job offer in another state and he needed to take the job to support his mother and his ’55 Chevy.
I started crying; crying like crazy, trying to make him stay, stay with his ever-lovin’ Betty but no he had to go. He didn’t know about a phone, or a phone call, but he said he would write and I haven’t heard from him since even though I wear out the mailman every day.”
Christ my heart bleeds for Betty every time I think about what Eddie had done, and see, I know Eddie, no I don’t know Eddie personally but I know Eddie stuff, stuff that has been going on since Adam and Eve, hell, probably before that.
Betty, Betty, sweet Betty, I hate to break it to you but Eddie, Edward John Cooper ain’t coming back. And old Eddie ain’t writing and it ain’t because he doesn’t have the three cents for a stamp, no Eddie, well, enough of that, let's just say Eddie’s moved on to greener pastures. (I heard later when I asked about it, asked some guys who had known Eddie when he worked at Smitty’s Garage last summer while he was with Betty that Eddie had left for Florida, had a new girl there, or maybe an old girlfriend who had some kind of spell over him but all of that was just guys talking one night. But you never know with Eddie guys.)
Betty, Betty hold onto your Eddie My Love dream for a moment. But Betty, tomorrow, not tomorrow tomorrow but some tomorrow you‘ve got to move on. Betty then why don’t you call up your Billy. I’ll be here by the phone, the midnight phone…
***Of This And That
In The Old North Adamsville Neighborhood-In
Search Of…..Roots
From The Pen Of Frank
Jackman
For those who have been following
this series about the old days in my old home town of North Adamsville,
particularly the high school day as the 50th anniversary of my
graduation creeps up, will notice that recently I have been doing sketches
based on my reaction to various e-mails sent to me by fellow classmates via the
class website. Also classmates have placed messages on the Message Forum page when they have something they want to share
generally like health issues, new family arrivals or trips down memory lane on
any number of subjects from old time athletic prowess to reflections on growing
up in the old home town. Thus I have been forced to take on the tough tasks of
sending kisses to raging grandmothers, talking up old flames with guys I used
to hang around the corners with, remembering those long ago searches for the
heart of Saturday night, getting wistful about elementary school daydreams,
taking up the cudgels for be-bop lost boys and the like. These responses are no
accident as I have of late been avidly perusing the personal profiles of
various members of the North Adamsville Class of 1964 website as fellow
classmates have come on to the site and lost their shyness about telling their
life stories (or have increased their computer technology capacities, not an
unimportant consideration for the generation of ’68, a generation on the cusp
of the computer revolution and so not necessarily as computer savvy as the
average eight-year old today).
Some stuff is interesting to a
point, you know, including those endless tales about the doings and not doings
of the grandchildren, odd hobbies and other ventures taken up in retirement and
so on although not worthy of me making a little off-hand commentary on. Some other
stuff is either too sensitive or too risqué to publish on a family-friendly
site. Some stuff, some stuff about the old days and what did, or did not,
happened to, or between, fellow classmates, you know the boy-girl thing (other
now acceptable relationships were below the radar then) has naturally perked my
interest.
Other stuff defies simple
classification as is the case here in dealing with growing up poor in America
in the 1950s (our coming of age time) and the 1960s (our, those of us who migrated
that way, political coming of age time). On a generic class website it is easy
to tout successes, awards, rewards, and those ubiquitous grandchildren since
the whole point is to cut up old torches. Dealing with the underbelly of what
life was like in hard-shell North Adamsville, a strictly working-class area
with a smattering of lower middle class professionals dependent on an every
diminishing shipbuilding industry that even then was heading off-shore, is
another matter. Perhaps not even good form, although the vast majority of the
five hundred plus students who graduated in my class came from working-class
and poor homes. So be it. Here I want to talk about the poor from first-hand
knowledge not because I particularly want to talk about it, having beaten the
issue to death about six different ways in other contents but because a fellow
classmate, Brother Ronald, whom I respect greatly for his career path has sent
me a series of private e-mails about his own growing up poor, a story that
actually outdoes my growing up poor story. So maybe the real point is there are
always worse circumstances around. No, that is not right, the point is to fight
like hell to change those circumstances and create a more just society. But
that is for the future right now let’s look at Brother Ronald’s growing up
plight.
That “brother” designation by the
way is not some off-hand political honorific, although I suppose given the
circumstances it could be that too, but because Brother Ronald is a brother. A
brother in the Xaiverian Brothers, a Catholic cleric organization (not priests,
but just below in the church hierarchy) which reaches out to the poor, the
needy, and those in prison. The way I know this is because Brother Ronald has
come on to the site describing the work he has been doing for the past fifty
years. Now as such things go Brother Ronald is a modest man and would not have
touted his work on his own. What he responded to was a request by a classmate
who had done a tribute to Brother Ronald and asked him to fill the rest of us
in. That tribute by the way was done by a classmate not of Brother Ronald’s
faith but by one who recognized that he was on the right side of the angels in
his life’s work.
One of the main considerations beyond
his fervent religious beliefs gathered in his youth for Brother Ronald’s career
choice had been that he grew up poor in the Acre section of North Adamsville, a
tough neighborhood right on the edge of where the poor, the desperados, and the midnight shifters
hang out. From the outside of the several blocks of two and three family houses
and block-long apartment buildings the place looks like a lot of the rest of
the town but as Brother Ronald filled me in I saw a very different side and now
concede the point that his place was much tougher to grow up in that mine. See
I always considered my house on “the wrong side of the tracks” (which it was)
but you can go lower if you look.
Here is the way Brother Ronald
placed things in context. Many years ago, in the 1970s somebody wanted to do a
film adaptation of George V. Higgins’ The
Friends of Eddie Coyne, about the cutthroat
doing of the underworld a la Whitey Bulger and that ilk, and was looking for a
location to film the seedy neighborhood where Eddie did his underworld business.
The Acre to the protests of some of the residents (maybe muted protests but
protests nevertheless) who did not see their neighborhood that way, or did not
want it portrayed that way was selected and that location was used in the film.
As far as I can tell my neighborhood, Five Points, never drew any consideration
as a site. Here though is the beauty of what Brother Ronald was about which I
will quote from an e-mail:
“All I know was that it was a tough dollar growing up poor
when a lot of our classmates were a step above I think (although a recent trip
back made me think that was a relative thing). I carry that knowledge and what
it did to my psyche with me (as you do) but I have unlike others not forgotten
my roots and on the questions of war and peace, social and economic justice I
know I have stood on the right side of the angels. Later- Ronald”
Enough said
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
*In Honor Of Our Class-War Prisoners- Free All The Class-War Prisoners!- Veronza Bowers
http://www.thejerichomovement.com/prisoners.html
A link above to more information about the class-war prisoner honored in this entry.
Make June Class-War Prisoners Freedom Month
Markin comment (reposted from 2010)
In “surfing” the National Jericho Movement Website recently in order to find out more, if possible, about class- war prisoner and 1960s radical, Marilyn Buck, whom I had read about in a The Rag Blog post I linked to the Jericho list of class war prisoners. I found Marilyn Buck listed there but also others, some of whose cases, like that of the “voice of the voiceless” Pennsylvania death row prisoner, Mumia Abu-Jamal, are well-known and others who seemingly have languished in obscurity. All of the cases, at least from the information that I could glean from the site, seemed compelling. And all seemed worthy of far more publicity and of a more public fight for their freedom.
That last notion set me to the task at hand. Readers of this space know that I am a longtime supporter of the Partisan Defense Committee, a class struggle, non-sectarian legal and social defense organization which supports class war prisoners as part of the process of advancing the international working class’ struggle for socialism. In that spirit I am honoring the class war prisoners on the National Jericho Movement list this June as the start of what I hope will be an on-going attempt by all serious leftist militants to do their duty- fighting for freedom for these brothers and sisters. We will fight out our political differences and disagreements as a separate matter. What matters here and now is the old Wobblie (IWW) slogan - An injury to one is an injury to all.
Note: This list, right now, is composed of class-war prisoners held in American detention. If others are likewise incarcerated that are not listed here feel free to leave information on their cases in the comment section. Likewise any cases, internationally, that come to your attention. I am sure there are many, many such cases out there. Make this June, and every June, a Class-War Prisoners Freedom Month- Free All Class-War Prisoners Now!
*In Honor Of Our Class-War Prisoners- Free All The Class-War Prisoners!- Joseph Bowen
http://www.thejerichomovement.com/prisoners.html
A link above to more information about the class-war prisoner honored in this entry.
Make June Class-War Prisoners Freedom Month
Markin comment (reposted from 2010)
In “surfing” the National Jericho Movement Website recently in order to find out more, if possible, about class- war prisoner and 1960s radical, Marilyn Buck, whom I had read about in a The Rag Blog post I linked to the Jericho list of class war prisoners. I found Marilyn Buck listed there but also others, some of whose cases, like that of the “voice of the voiceless” Pennsylvania death row prisoner, Mumia Abu-Jamal, are well-known and others who seemingly have languished in obscurity. All of the cases, at least from the information that I could glean from the site, seemed compelling. And all seemed worthy of far more publicity and of a more public fight for their freedom.
That last notion set me to the task at hand. Readers of this space know that I am a longtime supporter of the Partisan Defense Committee, a class struggle, non-sectarian legal and social defense organization which supports class war prisoners as part of the process of advancing the international working class’ struggle for socialism. In that spirit I am honoring the class war prisoners on the National Jericho Movement list this June as the start of what I hope will be an on-going attempt by all serious leftist militants to do their duty- fighting for freedom for these brothers and sisters. We will fight out our political differences and disagreements as a separate matter. What matters here and now is the old Wobblie (IWW) slogan - An injury to one is an injury to all.
Note: This list, right now, is composed of class-war prisoners held in American detention. If others are likewise incarcerated that are not listed here feel free to leave information on their cases in the comment section. Likewise any cases, internationally, that come to your attention. I am sure there are many, many such cases out there. Make this June, and every June, a Class-War Prisoners Freedom Month- Free All Class-War Prisoners Now!
***Of This And That In The Old North Adamsville Neighborhood-In Search Of…..Old Friends
One of the seriously played song on the juke-box at Salducci's Pizza Parlor by Joe Finn.
From The Pen Of Frank Jackman
For those who have been following this series about the old days in my old home town of North Adamsville, particularly the high school day as the 50th anniversary of my graduation creeps up, will notice that recently I have been doing sketches based on my reaction to various e-mails sent to me by fellow classmates via the class website. Also classmates have placed messages on the Message Forum page when they have something they want to share generally like health issues, new family arrivals or trips down memory lane on any number of subjects from old time athletic prowess to reflections on growing up in the old home town. Thus I have been forced to take on the tough tasks of sending kisses to raging grandmothers, talking up old flames with guys I used to hang around the corners with, remembering those long ago searches for the heart of Saturday night, getting wistful about elementary school daydreams, taking up the cudgels for be-bop lost boys and the like. These responses are no accident as I have of late been avidly perusing the personal profiles of various members of the North Adamsville Class of 1964 website as fellow classmates have come on to the site and lost their shyness about telling their life stories (or have increased their computer technology capacities, not an unimportant consideration for the generation of ’68, a generation on the cusp of the computer revolution and so not necessarily as computer savvy as the average eight-year old today).
Some stuff is interesting to a point, you know, including those endless tales about the doings and not doings of the grandchildren, odd hobbies and other ventures taken up in retirement and so on although not worthy of me making a little off-hand commentary on. Some other stuff is either too sensitive or too risqué to publish on a family-friendly site. Some stuff, some stuff about the old days and what did, or did not, happened to, or between, fellow classmates, you know the boy-girl thing (other now acceptable relationships were below the radar then) has naturally perked my interest.
Other stuff is simple to classify as is the case here in dealing with the search for long-lost friends, or maybe not so much a search as connecting with long-lost friends once they have traversed the intricacies of joining the site and logging in. Once such occurrence, connecting with Joe Finn, can serve to make the point. Joe and I were fast friends back in high since where we had many of the same classes together, and more importantly, hung out together holding forth at Salducci’s Pizza Parlor. That holding forth was not merely accidental but came through the good offices (nice term, right) of Francis Xavier Riley, Frankie Riley, the leader of the Salducci’s corner boys and my friend since junior high school. Joe came later, came in high school since he had attended Adamsville Central, one of the other feeder junior-high school for North. So we were solid through high school but as such things work out we all our separate ways, all drifted wherever the winds would take us (except Frankie and me episodically over the years but that is not a story that concerns us here).
Now this business of connecting, of finding out locations for many of the five hundred plus graduates from our baby-boomer-etched class is worthy of mention here because for our generation, the generation of ’68 as I like to call it since we were washed up in the big wave that came crashing through in that decade, is kind of on the cusp of the computer technology revolution. Some people seem adept, others who have had perfectly good careers without much technological entanglement less or not so. Joe fell into that latter category so the task as I understood from what he and someone on the reunion committee who was finally able to reach him had been somewhat daunting.
Joe had stayed in the Greater Boston area so that was a help but when somebody on the committee noticed that he was on an Internet-North Adamsville High- related site he thought the task of recruiting Joe to the site would be easy. But see here is where that generational divide comes in. One of Joe’s daughters had signed him up for the site since he was clueless about how to get on that site. So the way that he was reached by the committee was through a postcard mailing based on his last known address informing classmates about the reunion and joining the site. Once again one of Joe’s daughters (not the same one as previously cited) signed him up for the North Adamsville reunion site and so the way, mostly, Joe and I communicate on the Internet is when his daughter gets around to checking his personal profile page and notices that I have left a private e-mail for him. Knowing his situation I have posted my e-mails to him in the form of questions for him to answer. Below is part of the first exchange we had once he joined the site.
“Joe -Thanks for note- I noticed a while back that you are on our class website yet. It is user-friendly. People are starting to join as we spread the news. If you are in contact with any NQ64ers let them know. Are you retired yet? Sorry to hear about your medical problems. I just wrote to Jack Zane who had sent me an e-mail which ended with “getting old sucks”- I said you will get no argument from me there, brother. Thanks for offer of help and since you live in Millsville as the committee gets things firmed up and needs help they will call on you. BTW some very nice pictures of you and yours where was that last one taken, Venice? They should go on your personal profile on NA64 to show that you have done well in life. Later Frank Jackman - Sorry about the football mix-up I was working from memory (ouch!) [I had remembered him as a guard on the football team and he was actually a tackle, a bruising one, on the senior year championship team.”
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
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