High School Classmates - 1957 - Lifelong Memories

How good is your memory?  I have this uncanny ability to remember names of folks that I know.  

I was reminded of this recently when I posted this photo of my sophomore class taken in 957.  After all these year I think I can identify everyone person in this photo.  

Now let's see.  I will start with the first row left from right:

Pat Weber, Anne Yerkes, Jackie Schmidt, Elsie Strock, Mary Jane Sabellico, Judy Wagner, Frances Wilkenson, Patty Zittle, Betty Lou Woodward, Virginia Walters, Bonnie Walton, Linda Smith, Jean Timmerman

There!  I got the whole first row.  I also remember all there personalities.  Who liked me, who I liked and who I didn't know that well.  My late friend Wayne "The Cajun" Juneau used to mock me for "living in the past."  I liked Wayne but he was wrong in his observation of me and my propensity to remember my past.  We are who we are today because of our past. Both the good and bad experiences and people.  We learn from the past.  

Now for the second row.  Notice that the first row was all girls.  This WAS back in the Fifties when the guys were always told to stand in the back, especially the case with me being so tall.  I think these days schools are more egalitarian in the way they treat and respect their students. One thing I have never forgotten from school days was that I was always in the back of the room and any group setting.  From first grade on we were seated alphabetically and since my last name begins is a "T" I was in the back.  I truly believe that this "you can't sit at the lunch counter" syndrome affected my self confidence.  My good friend Bill B., who was short and always sat up front was and is a very confident person, even to this day.  While I put up a good front, I never completely got rid of my lack of self confidence. 

Now let's get to that second row:

Polly Weber (who is the twin of Pat Weber in the first row), Anne Williamson, Cookie Seibert, Su Su Serafino, Judy Scarborough (who is a neighbor of mine now here in southern Delaware), Gracie Styer (who was good friend of mine in grade school, I never knew what happened to her), Jean Szell, Duer Smedley, Lou Wilkerson (who I got into a fist fight with - 9th grade), Don Smith (who I had the hots for), Kenny Van Lew (who I also got into a fight with - 7th grade and who died in combat in Viet Nam), Francis Trego, Olin Siever.

Hey!  I got the whole second row!!!  I'm impressed with myself.  Damn I'm good.
Yes, I'm complimenting myself.

Here we go with the third row:

Bob Zynn, Jack Swarner, Donald Yanascoli (who I also had a crush on), Bob Watts, Blaine Stong, me (believe it or not I had too much hair), Don "Buddy" White who was our championship quarterback, Henry "Champ" Stehman, Denny Williams (another crush of mine), Terry Stimson, Alan Wilson, Harry Styer, Bill White

There!  I did it!  Looking at this picture I'm reminded at how all the girls wore dresses.  Many of them with crinolines, I remember the rustle of those crinolines when the girls would seat themselves on the wooden chairs in our classrooms.

The guys who wore short sleeve shirts would roll the short sleeves up.  Why?  Where the short sleeves too long?  No, it was just the "thing" to do.

By the way, my very first real date (at the Soph Hop) was the girl third from the right in the first row.  Her name was Bonnie Walton. She of the sweater and plaid skirt.  The next time I saw here was at our 35th Class Reunion.  Guess what?  She was a lesbian.  Looking at this photo now I guess I could have figured that out when we went to the Soph Hop.  Not that I was trying to make out with her, or any girl.  I guess sub consciously I wanted a "safe" date, which is what I got.

Bonnie Walton - 1959

 

Bonnie and me at our 50th class reunion 2009

Ah memories.  

Remembrance of Past

At 72 years old, I've lived a long time.  My brain is still good, I can remember a lot from my past.  One of my all time favorite memories is watching the "Jackie Gleason Show" on a warm summertime Saturday night in the Fifties.

Me (middle) with my friends and brother (far right) at 120 Washington Avenue, Downingtown, PA summer 1952

Our family lived on Washington Avenue in Downingtown, Pennsylvania.  We lived in a second floor of a cheap (poor white trash section of town) apartment building.  My father worked at Gindy Trailers outside the edge of town.  The owner of Gindy Trailers, Dave Ginsberg, let my father grow corn on a few acres of land adjoining the trailer manufacturing plant.  

My brothers John and Isaac at the Gindy Trailer Manufacturing plant in Downingtown - 1952
our "Playground"

My father grew a lot of corn, more than we could eat.  One of my fondest memories of my childhood was those warm and humid, lazy hazy days of the Eisenhower Dull Fifties was my brothers and I pulling weeds from our assigned rows of corn.  I used to hate that chore at that time because I wanted to play with my friends Chubby Shores and Pee Wee Mack.  But after we pulled the weeds, we were often treated to a Tastee Freeze ice cream of a Dixie Cup.  Then if we got home in time we would gather around out 14 inch black and white Philco TV and watch "The Honeymooners" on "The Jackie Gleason Show."  

Mom and "her boys" enjoying a Dixie Cup treat after pulling weeks for each of our assigned eight rows of corn - 1952

Now, every time I hear the haunting strains of "The Melancholy Serenade" which was the opening theme song to "The Honeymooners", I am transported back to that more innocent time.  

Mom with my brother Isaac, Jr. in front of our cornfield - 1952

We didn't have much (nothing really) but we did have family, security and love.  Sure, my father could have been more demonstrative with his love and we could have had air conditioning but I am so appreciative of the childhood I did have and the memories that will never leave me as long as I live.  

"Pop" with youngest son John (his favorite) in front of his cornfield 1952

Jackie Gleason is on my mind now because I'm reading a biography of him now.  Not only was he one of my favorite comedians he is also one of my favorite musicians, and indeed he was a musician even though he couldn't read one note of music. 

I have many more memories like this which I will share in future blog posts.  I get a great deal of comfort from these memories.  I hope I never lose them.

TV in the Fifties

These days the only shows I watch on TV are on MSNBC.  Mostly political discussion (liberal) shows that I use as background while I'm at my computer or eating a meal.  The only shows I watch on regular TV are "Judge Judy" (which I DVR) and "Greed" which is on CNNC. I never watch anything on the commercial TV.  Some years ago I used to watch "American Idol" and "Dancing With the Stars" but I've fallen away from watching those shows too.  

I like comedy.  To me, the situation comedy shows on regular TV are asinine and juvenile.  I just don't see the humor.  Almost always there are smart assed kids who are smarter than their parents.  And always the "dumb white guy" stereotype, perpetually horny, ogling after some buxom female.  I as a gay man got tired of substituting my likes for the straight world.  Then TV got "with it" and started having gay characters.  But alas, I have yet to find a realistic gay character.  To me, these shows just aren't funny.  Maybe it's me.  Maybes I've turned into an Old Grump.  I don't know but what I do know is that I have better things to do with my time than to watch these lame attempts at humor burdened down with too many commercials.  My brain turns to mush when I even attempt to get through a half an hour of one of these shows.

Two and a Half Men - a horny, whore mongering drug addict - funny? I don't think so

Now growing up in the Fifties, TV comedy was a whole different thing.  In the early Fifties we didn't even have a TV.  I remember the first TV on our block (Washington Avenue in Downingtown, Pennsylvania) was owned by my friend Eddie Rose up the street. I used to go up to his house every evening at 6:00 pm to watch "Frontier Playhouse" which played old western movies.  If I got up there early enough I could watch "Kukla, Fran and Ollie", a puppet show.  We even had a local puppet show called "Willie the Worm."  I know, I know, sounds stupid but to this 10 year old, gangly kid living in the poor white section of town, TV was a treat.  

Me with my cat "Bobby" in front of our old black and white TV - I still have that "deer lamp" - cat is long gone as is that innocent boy looking at you through the past - 1958

One of our family's favorite shows was "You Bet Your Life" with Groucho Marx.  Looking back on those shows now I realize how sophisticated his comedy was.  All Groucho had to do was pause and give a look and you "got"the humor.  

Groucho with a young Marilyn Monroe (before her nose job)

You know folks, the best humor is when folks are just themselves.  No script, no outrageous situations like cruel mad chef cooking shows or "The Biggest Loser" but just regular, ordinary folks like you and me being ourselves.  Oh where is a show like that today?

This monster is entertainment?

More like The Biggest Loser

I guess the closest we can come to something like that is a talk show like David Letterman or Jay Leno.  Jon Stewart of Comedy Central and Stephen Colbert occasionally have some good interviews but they are lost among the late hour and the barrage of so many late night shows.

The "beav" and (hunky) Wally - oh yes!
(by the way, what happened to Tony Dow in his later years, OMG!)

Am I the only one who longs for those innocent days of shows like "Your Bet Your Life" and other shows like "Father Knows Best", "Leave it to Beaver and the "I Love Lucy" show? 

Oh God, my favorite all time show every Monday night at 9:00 pm - everything stopped while our family gathered together in front of our 15 inch black and white Philco TV to watch Lucy and her latest antics

Yes folks, I am forever thankful for the era in which I grew up.   

The way I thought our family should be, dad dressed in a suit at the dinner table.  My dad wore a sweaty, greasy tank top much to my everlasting chagrin - yes, I know this family was only a fantasy but what a nice fantasy for this kid growing up in the Fifties

Roads Not Taken Part One

Front cover of my yearbook - 1959

From my vantage point in life now I look back with interest and see the roads that I didn't take when I had the opportunity.  I also see the roads that I did take and wonder what why life would be like now had I not taken those roads.

Me in the "Center Square" - our high school yearbook photo and yes, that is me standing in the doorway 1959

Perhaps the first road I chose to take was when I quit my bookkeeping class when I was unfairly accused of helping some of my classmates to cheat.  This one day I had forgotten and left my book and homework home.  My teacher, Mr. King, knew there was cheating going on in his class, which there was.  However, I wasn't involved.  I never cheated in class in my life, a fact that most find hard to believe but it is true.  I just never saw the benefit of cheating, especially risking my reputation for integrity to help fellow classmates who were to lazy to do their homework.

Mr. King called on me and I told him I had forgotten my homework.  I must have been the straw that broke the camel's back

because he erupted and blasted me in front of the whole class. Up until that morning, Mr. King and I had gotten along just fine.

I tried to explain to him that I had really forgotten my homework but he didn't want to hear it.  I left class angry and frustrated.  

I saw our guidance counselor Mr. Kline, who was totally worthless.  We all knew it but what other choice did I have?  As expected I got nowhere with Mr. Kline, he sided with Mr. King.  I forget, but there was some kind of punishment involved.  There was no way I was going to be punished for something I didn't do and something they couldn't prove.  I decided then and there to quit Bookkeeping.  I was a senior and had enough credits to graduate so I didn't need Bookkeeping credits to graduate from high school.

My report card for 12th grade - note that my Bookkeeping grades ceased halfway through the year

And that folks is when the fit hit the shan.  I was told "You can't do that!"  Oh yeah, watch me.  I wasn't about to take blame for something that I DID NOT DO.  Especially when I knew there were classmates of mine who WERE cheating.  Why not go after them?  Of course I was asked to identify them but I wasn't about to rat on anyone.  Because I wouldn't squeal is probably why their attitude hardened on me. Hey, I have to live with my classmates.  I wasn't going to be the stool pigeon.

The next few weeks went by in a blur.  Mr. Cline, the waste that he was, insisted that I could not quit Bookkeeping.  He contacted my Mother, who agreed with him!  I told her that I was quitting.  I was adamant.  I quit.  I told them all "Just watch me."  

Well of course I won the battle but lost the war.  I quit Bookkeeping and did graduate.  But this is where my decision changed my life forever.  Because I quit Bookkeeping I wasn't eligible for the student work program.    That's where Commercial Course students got to work at a local business for half a year and attend their high school senior class for half a year.  I was fucked (although I didn't used the "F" word at that time - didn't find out about that all purpose word until I joined the Army the next year).  

So here is how my decision affected the course of my life from there on out.  When I graduated from high school I didn't have a job.  I couldn't get a job.  I had to join the Army.  And therein begins the next chapter of my life, The Journey of Ronald W. Tipton.  Stay tuned.  

Wienermobile

You know folks, I'm surprised no one has brought up the fabulous Oscar Mayer Wienermobile in light of the all the current attention on New York mayoral candidate Anthony Weiner.

OMG!  Anthony!  What were YOU thinking?  

So here is my advice to Anthony: EMBRACE IT!

Anthony Weiner aka "Carlos Danger"

Is there anybody out there who hasn't seen the Wienermobile roll through their town? Well folks, I was one of those lucky few who actually got to see the Wiener....um....mobile in person.  The date was sometime in the Innocent Fifties in the small town of Downingtown, Pennsylvania were I spent my formative pre-adolescent years.  We didn't get much advance notice. In fact we didn't get any advance notice.  

It was summertime and I was out playing in the heat, dirt and grime when all of a sudden I heard "It's the Wienermobile!  It's the Wienermobile!"

I knew immediately what it was.  We all ran towards the commotion and sure enough, there it was IN PERSON....the Wienermobile.  OMG!  SO EXCITING!  Now you might ask "Just what is so exciting about seeing a giant hot dog on wheels?"  Well folks, I guess you just HAD TO BE THERE.

So the question is "Is Anthony going to drop out of the New York City mayoralty race?"  Of course he's not.  In fact, I think Anthony should rent the Wienermobile and campaign in it during his race and just show that darn media that they don't know everything. Anyway, what's a little sexting between friends.....or strangers?  

First Crush

Robert Joseph Murdaugh

We've all had our First Crush.  Lately I've been thinking about my first infatuation.  Of course the object of my amorous delusions fantasies was a guy.  Hey, I'm gay and I've known I was "gay" (back then I didn't know what "it" was but I knew I was different) since I was four years old, one year before I entered first grade in 1947.

I will give the full name of my first crush because I know in the past when I've given the full name, through the miracle of the search engines of our Internet age, he may find my humble posting.  I've had this happen in the past, sometimes with good results and sometimes not so good.  No, I'm not going to go there other than to say the son of the married man with family who first seduced me wasn't too thrilled that I posted my "First Time" about his dad.  Hey, it is what it is.  At least I answered a question his family always had "Was my dad gay?"  My answer to him was "He was when he was seducing with me."

So without further ado here is how I first fell in love with another man guy boy.  The year was 1954 and I was 12 years old.  His name was Robert Joseph Murdaugh and he was 14 years old.  

Oh yes, that's me to the far right with the rolled up jeans - a 12 year old hopelessly in love with an upperclassman two years my senior - 1954

I first saw him when I was riding to school on my school bus.  My school bus stop was Boot Road, Downingtown, PA.  He got on at the next stop which was by the quarry.  

To this day I remember clearly where he lived.  I could see his house from my seat in the school bus.  His house looked like the house of the Old Lady Who Lived in a Shoe. I was always fascinated at how many of his brothers and sisters (all younger than him) emerged from that house on the corner right across from the quarry.  

There was his younger sister Joanne and his younger brother Clifford and several other younger siblings whose names I never knew but then there was HIM.  When he stepped up the steps on the bus I had to catch my breath.  I was mesmerized.  

That smile.
That wavy hair.
Those blue eyes.

I was too young to even think of THAT BODY but some inner sense knew that this was my dreamboat come true.

With great anticipation every day I would eagerly look forward to the Next Bus Stop when he would get on my bus.  Of course it was too much for me to ever hope that he would sit next to me.  And in all the years we took the same bus he never once did sit next to me so me MUST HAVE KNOWN that I was in LOVE with him.

Now folks, I'm going to get a little graphic here so if their are children in the room or you are a bit squeamish, might be best for you to move on to your next blog.  

So here's what happened next.  Almost every day I would see "Bobby" (as I called him) get on the bus.  I was in heaven even if I was only looking at the back of his wavy haired head most of the time on the bus.  I almost always did get to see him climb those steps and see THAT SMILE.

Then something strange happened a few weeks later.  I woke up one night and my bed was all "sticky."  I had NO IDEA what happened.  Now remember I was a very innocent kid in a small town in the Fifties.  No Internet and only Uncle Miltie on my small screen black and white Philco TV.

I guess most of you can figure out what happened that night.  I had my first "nocturnal emission."  In other words I had a wet dream.  

Later in life I have read stories about young girls who had their first period and were scared to death.  Hey folks, that was my first "period." I had NO IDEA what happened.  Of course it didn't take me too long to figure out what was going on, I was dreaming about HIM.

Now just to bring my fellow wise guys (you know who you are), I never had a "mentor" to show me the ways of burgeoning young adolescent sexual awareness.  In fact I never learned (make sure you're sitting down when you hear this) how to masturbate until I was twenty-seven years old! I know, I know.  No one believes me but this is a fact of my life.  Such things weren't taught in high school and certainly never talked about in my family.  

Okay folks, you can take your seat belts off now because I'm not going to get any more graphic than I just did.  Sorry if I offended any of my regular readers but this is the only way I could describe my "situation."

For the next four years I would often fantasize about "Bobby." In fact, my first pet, a cat I named "Bobby" in his honor.  That's how ridiculously lovesick I was.

"Bobby" my pet pussy cat 1954

I had many, many dreams about Bobby.  Many.  It got so that I could almost control my dreams.  

Then there came a time that Bobby graduated from high school.  He was a senior and I was a sophomore.

Interestingly, the year before in the yearbook (1956) we appeared "together".  That's me in the Ping Pong Club, third from the right in the back row.  Bobby is sitting on the ledge with the Stamp Club (he wasn't actually in the "Stamp Club" but was in the "Slide Rule Club") with his elbow leaning on his classmate to his right.  That was a close as I ever got to my fantasy.

Me, the tall one in the back on the right with the brick wall behind me - 1956

My fantasy man sitting on the window ledge next to "Todd" - 1956
I just about died when I saw this photo

All the years we went to high school together (four) he never spoke one word to me. Of course I was so shy and backwards I didn't dare say anything to him.  When he graduated in 1957 I felt like I lost something. Even though I didn't know him and we certainly weren't friends I always knew he was "there."  

I never knew what happened to him when he graduated from high school.  Just tonight I went on Ancestry.com and checked the Social Security Death Index to make sure he was still alive.  He must be because I couldn't find his name there.  However, I did find a marriage record for him in Ohio.  I also found an address for him in Ohio.  So he must have been straight, he got married.  Uh huh.  

So in all the years since, and especially now that I am at the end of my tenure here on earth, I've often wondered what became of my "Bobby."  

All I can say now though is that he was, even if he didn't know it, an integral and wonderful part of my adolescence and development of my sexual awareness. 

I've often wondered if he knew that I loved adored fantasized dreamed about liked him.  Well, if he didn't, he will now. 

Tony, the Barber

Tony the barber cutting hair 2004

Yesterday I learned from a friend of mine that my longtime barber Tony had died.  

His name was Tony Ursini.  He was born in 1920, the same year as my father.  Tony emigrated to this country in 1936 from Italy.  He came to the U.S. on the ship "Satumia" through Ellis Island in search of a better life.

Tony was my barber during my childhood growing up in Downingtown, Pennsylvania.  I used to deliver newspapers to his barber shop which was a converted garage attached to his house on Lincoln Avenue in Downingtown. 

Tony Ursini

Tony was a force of nature.  Small in stature (think Danny DeVito only not quite that short but I doubt if Tony was more than five feet tall), Tony had a giant personality.  I loved delivering newspapers to his barber shop because I knew I would always leave with a smile.  There was Tony holding court and telling stories to his daily influx of customers.  

Tony with a customer 2005

Whenever I walked into his barber shop Tony would greet me with "Hey Tip!"  Like my father, Tony liked to tease.  A playful tease, never mean or nasty.  I never knew what to expect when I walked into Tony's shop.  

Ursini home on Lincoln Avenue - 2004 - the garage on the right was Tony's barber shop when I was a 12 year old kid in 1957 - as with everything else from my youth, it seems a lot smaller now

One day when he went to the cash register to pay me the weekly bill for delivering his newspapers, he said "Com'here Tip, I want to show you something."  I warily walked over, what was he going to show me? He pulled out a fifty dollar bill.  He said "Ever see a 'Grant'?"  Of course I had never seen a fifty dollar bill.  Standing there, with my jaw agape, I was awed.  Tony got the reaction he wanted from me.  I remember thinking at that time that someday, I'll have my own fifty dollar bill.  Want to know something?  I collect those old fifty dollar bills.  Yep, ever since that day whenever I see one of those old fifty dollar bills, I put it away (and no, I'm not going to tell you where I put them).  But I do remember how impressed I was to see BIG TIME MONEY.

The years went by.  I left Downingtown, joined the Army, got out of the Army, moved to different cities (Pittsburgh, Philadelphia).  Eventually, fifty years later I moved back to Downingtown.  I needed to find a barber.  Ironically over the years I've almost always had Italian barbers.  All the years I worked in Philadelphia I had an Italian barber.  I have one now.  But anyway I digress.  I asked around for a barber and was told "Why don't you go to Ursini's?" Coincidentally, Ursini's barber shop was now located almost right next to the bank where I worked.  I asked "Oh, whose is cutting hair there now?"  I was told "Tony and his brother Joe."  I couldn't believe it!  Tony was still alive and cutting hair?  I had to see this.

Ursini's Barber Shop on right - the bank where I worked is the building to the left with the tower - 2004

The next day I walk into the barber shop.  Tony recognizes me immediately and said "Hey Tip!" It was like the last fifty years didn't happen at all.  Amazing.  

Tony was still holding court and still telling stories and still teasing.  This was a man who loved his job.  Again, I always left his barber shop smiling.  

However, I did discover one thing.  I had Tony cut my hair.  After he cut my hair I couldn't do much with it.  Even though I had a lot less hair I was having trouble combing it.  I remember when I was a kid and Tony cut my hair I always came out with an Alfalfa cowlick.

"Alfalfa" I identified because I almost always had one of these growing out of the back of my head during my pre-teen years

My "Alfalfa Lick" - 1952

Here all those years I thought I had unruly hair.  Apparently not so, because the intervening years since I had left Tony's haircuts, my cowlick disappeared.  After going back to Tony, it returned!  So then I had to navigate the tricky waters of changing barbers without offending Tony.  That I did by getting his younger brother Joe to cut my hair. I hope I didn't offend Tony but I couldn't go back to work at my hoity toity bank job with an "Alfalfa Cowlick."  I don't think Tony was offended.

I continued to get my haircuts at Ursini's until I left Downingtown for Delaware in 2006.  

Tony's brother Joe and me at their barber shop in Downingtown - 2004 - NO COWLICK!

When I listened to the message of Tony's passing my friend left on my voicemail last night when I came in from work, I felt like yet another building block from my past was gone.  Little by little it seems as if my life is ebbing away.  Very sad.

A couple of memories that I will always remember from Tony's barbershop from my pre-teen days.  One Saturday as I was collecting my weekly bill from Tony (.45 cents a week - 5 cents for daily paper and 15 cents for the Sunday paper), he asked me "Tip, do you want to earn a little extra money?"  Sure, I was a typical, poor small town kid who could always use some "extra money" to buy more comic books and candy (my Wasteful Youth, what can I say?)  He said I could come in the next day (Sunday) and sweep out his barber shop.  I took the job and would come in every Sunday and sweep out his barber shop and mop the floor.  And I have a very fond and warm memory that his wife would often knock on the adjoining wall (his barber shop was a converted garage attached to his house) letting me know she had made a hoagie sandwich and was leaving it in the alcove that connected the barber shop to the house.  Oh those hoagies were SOOO good.  

Hoagie!

Now I can make a small confession.  While I was in Tony' barber shop, alone on those Sundays I would search through the magazines that were piled on one of the several low tables for Tony's customers to read.  I knew there were some sunbathing (NUDES!) magazines in that pile.  Back in the day, that was as close as I could get to porn  something to stimulate my hormones (like they needed stimulating).  Of course most of those magazines had the "good parts" airbrushed out but every now and then I would get a magazine that showed the "the goods" or the Full Monty as the English call it.  Oh yes, I got a lot more out of that job than a little "extra money." 

My friend Larry finds a nudie magazine  - 1957

My friend Larry looking at one of THOSE magazines we found - verboten!

Tony, part of my growing up experience and part of my life.  Another building block of my life now gone.  Little by little, living connections to my past life are disappearing.  I feel as if I am being prepared for my Final Journey.  However, I am so thankful for so many warm and rich memories and I am thankful to men (and women) like Tony who have made my life so happy and memorable. 

God bless you Tony. May you rest in peace and thank you for making my life and so many others richer and happier for having known your kindness and generosity. 

Tony and Joe Ursini - 2004 -
Dowingtown, PA