The Wheatley School Alumni Association Newsletter # 96
Nearing the Century Mark!
Dear Wheatley Wildcats and Other Interested Persons,
Welcome to The Wheatley School Alumni Association Newsletter # 96,
According to Substack, in the first 24 hours after publication Newsletter # 95 was viewed 3,267 times, was “liked” eight times, and received four comments (three positive; one ambivalent; all reprinted below).
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One Concert With Two Wildcats
Peter Howard (1970)] and Takemi Ueno (1983) will perform in a free concert with the Doctors' Orchestra on Thursday, March 9, at 7:30 PM, at the High School for the Fashion Industries, 225 W. 24th St., between Seventh and Eighth Aves. The program consists of Gershwin's "An American in Paris," Ravel's Bolero, and Beethoven's Seventh Symphony.
The Usual Words of Wisdom
Thanks to our fabulous Webmaster, Keith Aufhauser (Class of 1963), you can regale yourself with the first 95 Newsletters (and other Wheatley data and arcana) at
Wheatley School Alumni Association Website
Also, thanks to Keith is our search engine, prominently displayed on our home page: type in a word or phrase and, mirabile dictu, you’ll find every place it exists in all previous Newsletters and other on-site material.
I edit all submissions, even material in quotes, for clarity and concision, without any indication thereof. I do not vouch for the accuracy of what people tell me.
We welcome any and all text and photos relevant to The Wheatley School, 11 Bacon Road, Old Westbury, NY 11568, and the people who administered, taught and/or studied there. Art Engoron, Class of 1967
Connecting With Wheatley Principal Joseph Wiener
Writes Wheatley Principal Joseph Wiener - “I really enjoy reading your alumni newsletters! I appreciate the connections that so many alumni have with one another through their shared experiences while they were students at Wheatley...the Rascals concert sounded like quite an event! It also inspires me to support a culture and community at Wheatley today that will provide to our current students the foundation for those connections. Finally, it is a reminder of the rich tradition of excellence that has existed at Wheatley since its inaugural year, and my obligation as Principal to continue to foster that tradition.”
Guidance Counselor - Margaret “Peggy” Gaynor - Deceased
Margaret "Peggy" Gaynor Obituary
In Memoriam - Peggy Gaynor - March 19, 1942 - January 9,2023
Writes a graduate - “Peggy was a beloved guidance counselor at Wheatley in the mid-1970s. She was one of the kindest, most caring people I have ever known.”
1960 - Barbara Frankfort Patrick - “Hi Art. I loved reading about My Father’s Place. My sister LauRha Frankfort (1974) had lots of gigs there, playing her sax and singing original songs. She has lived in the Phoenix, AZ area for many years, teaching music to young students and doing gigs all over the area. She is also an accomplished artist. Her many small and large drawings are inspired by her love of music and animals.
As for me, I still paint and love living at the beach in Fenwick Island, Delaware. I am Vice President of the Art League of Ocean City (OCART.org) and an active volunteer at my temple and my community homeowners’ association.
I wish all of us Cats a healthy and prosperous New Year filled with love.”
1962 - Alice Christine Dickey Tarlach - Obituary by Sister-in-Law Lynn Dickey
Alice Christine Dickey Tarlach, age 77, of Brick, New Jersey, died on Friday, February 11, 2022. She lost her gallant battle against recurring breast cancer.
Alice was born on March 9, 1944, the daughter of James and Evelyn Dickey. Her childhood began in Jackson Heights, Queens, New York. Her parents moved the family to the suburbs of Long Island and lived in Mineola and East Williston. Alice graduated from The Wheatley School with honors in 1962. College was next on the agenda. She earned a Bachelor of Science in Education from Hofstra University in 1966 and a Masters of Education from Rutgers University in 1974.
Her professional career as an elementary school teacher began in Central Islip, on Long Island, and was continued in Wall Township in New Jersey. She thoroughly enjoyed teaching.
Being industrious and wanting new challenges, she changed professions. In the mid-seventies, Alice became a programmer analyst for Continental Insurance Company in Neptune, New Jersey. Later she transferred to AT&T and developed into a master of managing “BIG.” She managed the largest database in the world (the AT&T long distance and calling card data base) plus the programmers, analysts, and testers who ran it.
Alice became a successful Project Manager for AT&T’s venture into local business. In 1998 he took AT&T’s offer for early retirement and became a consultant to AT&T systems until solicited by Lucent to project-manage their new worldwide Optical Network System. During her later years in retirement, Alice held several part-time quality-management positions.
On a personal note, Alice married Walter Rollins Wendel, Wheatley Class of 1964, after graduating from Hofstra University. (In later years, Walter was known, simply, as ‘Wendel.’) The marriage wasn’t meant to be, and they divorced amicably. Alice maintained a close relationship with Wendel and his family until her death.
When Alice moved to New Jersey, she met Donald Knapp and they were married. From this union, Alice had her only child, Obie Knapp. Motherhood was the highlight of her life. This marriage ended in divorce, as did her third marriage, to Tom Tarlach.
Alice loved to travel, and her favorite trips were a safari in Kenya and an Amazon cruise in Peru. In retirement, her free time was spent taking care of her dog, feeding and watching the birds, doing puzzles (word, logic, and jigsaw), getting together with neighbors and family, playing duplicate bridge as well as teaching bridge, and holding leadership positions in the American Association of University Women (AAUW).
Alice was intelligent, forward thinking, social, loving, and a leader. She sought and welcomed challenges and adventures.
She is survived by her son, Obie Knapp, and his family; her sister, Elizabeth “Betsy” Prince, Wheatley Class of 1963; and her sister-in-law, Lynn Sitkowski Dickey, Carle Place ‘Frog,’ Class of 1966. Preceding Alice in death are her brother, James “Sandy/Jim” Dickey, Wheatley Class of 1965; and Donald Knapp.
Now nobody has to wonder, “Whatever happened to Alice?"
Writes Lynn Dickey (who was married to James) - Walter and Sandy were in the Boy Scouts together and were buddies. While in high school they rode their bikes from East Williston to Lexington, MA, where Sandy had relatives. They peddled to the end of Long Island, took the ferry across Long Island Sound, and continued on to Lexington. There and back they stayed one night in a motel. They wanted the adventure and to check out the historical sites in Lexington. How many teenagers (16/17 yrs. old) would have that freedom today? We grew up in special times.”
Writes Howard Grindlinger (1962) - “I am the older brother of Gene Grindlinger (1962). He ended up as the 'Golden Boy,' and I ended up as the 'pariah.’ So it goes.
Rhoda Kalkin (1961) was one of God's gift to the sight of men. I was too short and immature in those days. What a crush I had on her. Had she known me from my mid- 20's to my mid-40's, I think that she might have dated me-Good looking, 5'8 and 160 pounds. And, I had remarkable stamina.
Oh well, I hope that she took care of herself, because I'll bet that she could still make men drool and drop at her feet!
Still, as an older fellow, everything still works.
Wheatley was one of the first 'Rickover Schools,' developed after the Russian launch of Sputnik (literally, ‘traveling companion’). I had wonderful friends. I learned that I had a sense of humor. I learned that I could catch a football with incredible deftness. And, I grew taller, stronger and smarter. To boot, Wheatley had better education than college!
There have been losses along the way for us all, including myself. And, we all wonder what the hell has happened around us these past decades. I'm sorry that no one seems to have the best solutions, either here, Europe, Asia, etc. Like anyone else, I have opinions, but it's just hot air that adds to the carbon footprint. Hot air ain't gold!
It's good for all of us to think about things, but we all seem to end up with an angry impotence (not a biological one).
-As per Star Trek, may you all continue to 'live long and prosper.’
Howard M. Grindlinger, MD1964 and 1965 - Walter Wendel and James Sanford (“Sandy”) Dickey
1965 - Robert Gregory - Motivated to Write by Jeffrey Orling’s Submission
Writes Bob - “Hi Art - I was especially motivated by classmate Jeffrey Orling's submission entitled, ‘1965 - Jeffrey Orling - Aging and Its Discontents.’ WOW! I can relate to Jeffrey's mind-set, almost to the word! I, too, lost contact with my Wheatley and college friends. Life was moving at warp speed, until I married, settled down, and hit the brakes. Sadly, I reconnect with classmates through fond memories when I read their obits! I am battling the same demons as most seniors, so y'all aren't alone. I enjoy lap swimming and playing tennis, but the relief from the arthritis (back and joints) is only temporary. The next morning, the pain is back. I like the way Jeffrey ended his commentary with a ray of hope, to focus on the future. Yes, every day of sound mind and body is a gift!”
Writes Robert Campagnola (1966) - “Darn that Hugh Gershon!
I had managed to embrace the best excuse to unsubscribe from this annoying Wheatley newsletter. Politics! Controversy! People unabashedly expressing their opinions! Finally, I was about to let go of this nagging anchor to a time best left forgotten, and then this guy goes and writes about turning his life around 180 degrees and making something wonderful of himself. And worse! His expression captures me and throws me back in time, forcing me to reexamine who I was while challenging me to be as honest and open as himself. Hugh Gershon! I could not have imagined this. I knew the guy, and I can honestly say I was not expecting this. Therefore, this entire situation is unfair, and I have to write to Art to say something about it.
A lot of time has gone by. A lot of cups of tea. A lot of sputtered-out stuff that my psycho-therapist wife grabs and starts a session with. More tea.
I mean, Art has asked me before to write something. Seems we were co-journalists at the Wheatley Wildcat, and I have expressed my great admiration of his judicial work, and he shared that he had a thing for my sister, and anyway we used to live nearby and even now and then stood together at the bus stop at the intersection of High and Concord Streets, East Williston, but I could wriggle out of writing by using my go-to excuse of being a private person who does not share much in public.
Of course, that is ridiculous. I have given over 10,000 public lectures and have told many a story about my early days. And now, because of this guy Hugh Gershon, I have to relate one or more in this forum of people who were there, maybe, although all my really best friends are dead now, and that wreaks me even more because I did not reach out to them, or show I cared, or attempt in any way to carry on where we left off, because I had a hard enough time, my mind tells me, when we were there together, young enough to do anything, naive enough to think it did not really matter, and foolish enough to think that we would be fine no matter what, if only we managed to live long enough.
Our 2006 Class of 1966 40th-year reunion was hard for me. The morning before the reunion I had just gotten news of a nasty medical diagnosis. I was reeling, but I tried really hard to put it aside for the sake of the get-together. Because I left the US in 1972 and did not return till 2004, save for a few days here and there to visit my parents in East Williston or Delray Beach, I lost connection to American culture, or as we seemingly liberated ex-pats used to laugh, lack of it. When I returned in 2004, I needed years of subtitles when watching TV or movies to get a grasp of most of what people said. The language had changed so much. What people did and why they did it was foreign to me. Lecturing abroad meant using translators, and idiomatic speech made no sense to audiences. Most of my jokes were met with blank faces, and unless I raised my joke sign, no one knew to laugh. Plain vanilla was the linguistic flavor of choice. I lived without TV, although I sometimes could listen to the BBC World Service or the Armed Forces Radio Network. The International Herald Tribune on the airplane was my closest connection to modern written American English.
I struggled to relate to my classmates at that reunion. I thought I was going to slide through it with minimal pain, but things happened. So now I have to say, Darn that Bob Sarnoff! Yes, he was the subject of a few lessons in civility and morality when I would, with the intensity reserved for the truly righteous, speak about how, as I sat in stunned silence, he accosted me in the senior lounge and for no discernible reason told me how worthless I was and how my life would amount to nothing. I used to smirk as I said this to an audience of hundreds, because look at me! I am not nothing. I am something, and all of you out there know this well because you tell me often how good I am and I probably love it when you do, I think. So at this famed reunion he comes up to me even though I had managed to avoid him, I mean come on, I am a scorpio [To err is human, to forgive is not our policy], and he starts to be this entirely sweet, loving, and extraordinarily nice person who obviously also never forgot that day in that lounge and wanted to tell me he was sorry without actually saying he was sorry because that would throw the entire event in my face and he was being a total gentleman, and I just sat there listening, shocked, and deeply shaken by this act of caring and unable to respond properly. I wanted to hug him. I did not. I continued to tough out the night remaining discreetly distant without being rude, thus protecting what I could from cracking. What would my classmates have said if I was honest? What would they have said if I told them that I was scared, disconnected with myself in this environment, and unable to break free from falling into the default way of speaking and feeling with each of them that I took with me on graduation day? I could not prevent this! Stupid things flew out of my mouth, shocking me as much as they shocked the listeners. I am a true failure at small talk. When am I going to shut up and just accept them as they are now, as they long to be seen, and as I long to see them? It was not to be. I live too far away now, in Gainesville, Florida, to attend another reunion, and I no longer need NY specialists; health-wise I am OK now.
And it goes on. I miss Jeff Hirschberg deeply. We were best buddies throughout our three years in mechanical and architectural drawing under Mr Cautela, a true master of the art, whom I appreciated almost as much as Mr Johnson, my English teacher, who I will never forget; who saw me, who heard me, who encouraged me to write the poetry I later incorporated into the many songs I wrote, who sincerely loved my papers and wrote beautiful comments, who used to yell from his wing position during our scrimmages in soccer practice, ‘Hoad it!,’ which left us clueless till we figured out that was Brit for “kick the ball in the center you idiot,” who then would slam the ball into the goal past Shep Messing — no mean feat since Shep was going to become the first American pro soccer player ever. I used to hang out with Shep’s brother Marc (1965), who sometimes gave me a ride in his loud and ancient yet super nifty Porsche, but I digress…
I lost contact with Jeff Hirschberg. Trying to find him again was impossible from Europe. Luckily we had a node in ARPANET, so in the early 80’s I was able to tap into University resources and find him in Boca Raton. My next visit to the US was quite some time away, when I would have an opportunity to transit through Miami on my way to Buenos Aires and could spend a day with my parents in Delray Beach. As soon as I got there I tried to find his architectural practice, because naturally he became a successful architect. He was always slightly better than me at math. We studied together for weeks for those Regents Math tests because we had to get 100’s, which he always did, and I mainly did except for those few times I got a 98, maybe to allow him to be a step ahead or maybe because he really was smarter. I admit now he drew better than me and could figure out how to render those damn gears that Mr. Cautela forced us to get right better than me, and anyway he was an all-around better person than me. I set out to find him to get him to understand I’m a really good guy and not the terrible friend I appeared to be because of my fear of being too close to people who had the power to break me when they found out I was not worthy of their friendship. My strategy was so stealthy that I was myself not aware of my ability to make sure I broke it off in advance, using a proprietary combination of passive aggression and elegant negligence. When he realized I was an asshole who desired his forgiveness, I could give him that big hug we both deeply deserved.
He died the year before I could get there.
Deep shocks affect me greatly. I kind of just go quiet and numb. Charlie Trantum was officially my first friend ever. When we were four years old, his mom brought him over to our house on Brown Street often so we could play together. Later, when we moved to High Street, we were four houses apart, with Jay Keillor next door to him. We were a gang. Charlie was wild and weird. I mean, once when we rode our bikes to the Roslyn Duck Pond, he made peanut butter and sardines sandwiches. Who can be friends with someone who eats peanut butter and sardines? But I would never have joined Chorus unless he dragged me there. ‘It’s fun,’ he said pushing me down the hall, ‘and you will love it! OK, OK. He was right. I did. Dr Wills was the greatest, bar none. A real hoot — so much so that he had Charlie and me be his singing partners while he played at a piano bar on Saturday night! Mixed Choir, Male Choir, and Barbershop Quartet were super. And yes, I loved to hear from that co-lurker Sue Berger, who had that gorgeous voice. Brought me right back. Naturally Charlie would become THE sound man at Westbury Music Fair, because choir, of course, and because when the Rolling Stones released “Satisfaction,” and we heard it on the radio coming out of Jay Keillor’s kitchen while we waited on the corner for the school bus, Charlie ran back inside to rock out to it as we screamed at him that the bus was coming, but he couldn’t have cared less when we rode off and wondered what kind of madness possessed him. Significant insight into his life’s work. He is gone, and I am sorry. Jay is gone and I am sorry. We all spent summer’s in Mr Larson’s Camp Waimea in New Hampshire together, and I forgot that too. We lay together on the floor in front of Jay’s color TV and saw in real time Jack Ruby shoot Lee Harvey Oswald. I am sorry about a lot of stuff, but not at all sorry about not writing in that newsletter because who is going to care about what I write anyway?
The Animals! The greatest intramural sports team of all time at Wheatley. Loved every last one of them. I was not close friends with Paul Malsky (may he RIP), one of us Animals, but I loved playing on the same side with him and hanging out when we could. Such a nice guy. I remember Denis Feldman. I do not remember the names of the rest of the team, but I remember our time together as a great relief and enormous fun.
I tried. I gave my Wheatley days my all. I did the hall locker hang outs, junior and senior year lounge chats, the usual cafeteria babble and periodically attempted connections with this or that group. I laughed and cried with the moods we shared, and I gratefully accepted an invitation to join Lee Nagel, Dan Silver, and Jeff Hirschberg for the cafeteria bridge game where they allowed me to learn and fail and then, as I started to become a worthy bridge partner to Lee, we graduated. Or maybe it was something else? I mean, Art and his gang cannot even agree on what their taxes paid for? Pizza? Ice Cream? Movies? Who cares? What all of us at the school share is that at least, for a time, we had each other. And a great uncertainty hung over us throughout the spring of ’66. The Future. Now what?
People matter the most. Relationships, once established, never really die. Love is eternal. In WandaVision, Vision tells Wanda, ‘What is grief but the persistence of love?’ And so it is, and so I grieve. Too many friends are gone. Others remain aloof. This newsletter, an admirable endeavor, connects us. I am married to a wonderful Swedish girl, who holds our horse ranch together, who cares for her clients, and who knows what is what till she doesn’t, when she graciously allows me to fix things. No children. What I do now is not so important. What I did for years less important. If someone wanted to know about me they could find out via the descendent of ARPANET (look it up), but even then only 10% of the story is available. I am fine with that.
Hey Wheatley! My sister lives in Athens, Ohio and was Ohio’s citizen of the year twice and was on Michelle Obama’s short list of the top ten who created programs for the less fortunate in the USA! She is the real star. She would not tell you this. And do not tell her that I told you ‘cause she will get on my case, and I already have enough problems.
I have meagerly tried since then to reach out to people. I try to tell them how much I appreciate them for who they are now, not who they were, but this is really hard, because I do not know them now, I only knew them then. I dislike when people speak to me as a person of the past because I am a person of the present. But would they bother to know me now unless they knew me then? Is this newsletter a good way to do it? We do not have a way to write to someone whose text impacted us because the emails are hidden.
I sit at my kitchen table, watching the birds outside eat their way through yet another bag of bird food, until some horse hypnotizes my wife into leaving the gate open when I have to run out to move the beast before he eats all the bird’s food, but he does not want to move, because he found out he likes bird food, so I have to walk around to find a halter and by the time I get back the bird feeder is bent over and the birds are watching me from the trees, saying, ‘What the hell, human?!” I straighten their feeder, go back inside, and make another cup of tea and wonder if I should actually send this to Art, and if I did, what he would do with it and how I would handle it if he said, “Good try, but too long and rambling and not on theme.” Should I object?”
1967 - Correction - The correct spelling of the first name of the woman who graduated in 1967 and whose last name was “Gershon” is “Cydney” (not “Cindy,” as previously reported. I feel particularly embarrassed because she was a classmate of mine (she passed away many years ago). The post came in literally minutes before publication……and that’s what happens when you copy-and-paste on auto-pilot. I apologize for any confusion, etc. Art Engoron (1967)
1967 - Steve Miller - Synchronicity
Writes Steve - “Hey Art, Here's one for the ‘Possible Outbreak of Synchronicity’ Department: Recently I have been transcribing from Tom Waits’s “Medley: Jack & Neal / California Here I come,” on the Foreign Affairs album (for the sax part), and yesterday I came across a LIVE version on Spotify that was recorded at ’My Father’s Place’ in 1977, in, I noted, Roslyn, NY. Way to go home town!
Interest piqued, but finding difficulty with imagining the where, how and what that scene could have been, I was considering asking alums that spent the 70’s there. Perhaps, I thought, someone was even at that particular show. Needless to say, I was quite surprised to read the Newsletter today, just one day later, and find the whole story laid out for me right there. Thank you Corinne Zebrowski Kaufman, that was quick)! Music works in mysterious ways, indeed. “
1967 - Jill Simon Forte - “Hi to Hugh Gershon (1966), I have fond memories of my friendship with his deceased sister, Cydney.”
1967 - Jack Wolf - “The variations in the recollections of the machinations of the Clarabell Club by classmates Benjy Ross, Art Engoron and myself rival the mysteries of the Shroud of Turin. From my lousy memory (How Lousy? I once had a dance with my ex-wife and failed to realize who she was until half way through. I met a mutual friend at the bar after I walked over looking like I had seen a ghost and explained the situation, noting that I hadn't seen her in 10 years, and her hair was different. To which my friend remarked, ‘I knew who she was when she walked in the door, and I wasn't married to her for ten years.’)
But back to the Clarabell Club quandries. So, by my suspect memory, Ben is right, we definitely did have a bunch of outings, and so all those are possible, and I maintain that Berry's Candy Store was one. I don’t recognize the pizza place Art mentioned; pizza was still an eccentricity in the pre-McDonald’s era of our youth, but was it McGinnis’s on Willis Ave. and Jericho Tpk. that had rides and pinballs, as I remember the gang riding our bikes there, if not for the Clarabells, then one other time for our group.
And some more nostalgia with Ben and Art, not to mention David Krauss, Larry Baum, Richard Friedman, and I believe Danny Quaranto, how about our yearly Olympics and the javelin throw, which consisted of us throwing my mother’s garden stakes, the hammer throw which was a canteen filled with pebbles, and the obstacle course race, which was crawling through our lawn furniture and swing set. I distinctly remember Arthur consistently winning the three block marathon, which was really about a mile, and I placed second. And for a real test, do you remember our nicknames in the ping pong league we had?
Another youthful escapade was when Dan Silver and I rode our bikes, unsupervised, just the two of us, from Long Island to Maine, maybe 7th grade. I think our parents would be arrested, if done today, for child neglect, but we had fun, even if the first leg from East Williston to Port Jeff over the ferry to Connecticut was done in 100 degree weather; Dan would remember that we looked like two lobsters. We did 100 miles a day and made Ogunquit, Maine in about 4-5 days.
1968 - Mitchel Laskey - “Art, In Newsletter # 94 I found myself intrigued and engaged in the Glaser family story, as depicted so elegantly by my classmate Tom.
I spent many a day and night with the Glaser family (Victor, Daisy, George, and Tommy) in my formative years. Traveling to the mountains, skiing faster than I wanted (to try and keep up with the others), boating and water skiing together, and the many sleepovers were all fond memories. Learning at a young age about Victor and the feather business seemed different for me as a kid growing up, and I asked lots of questions and got some answers. But now reading the letter and hearing Tom describe Daisy and Victor's struggles during and in the Holocaust, and their strength together before I met them all seems to make more sense to me. I applaud Tom for sharing this with us and helping to educate young people and others about the truth and the spirit of ‘Never Again.’”
1969 - James Maxfield - Calendar Boy
Jimmy has created a calendar based on 12 of his photographs. You can reach him at JAMESMAXFIELD22@GMAIL.COM.
1970 - Frank Engoron - Cyclist
That’s my brother Frank, just to the right of center, wearing sunglasses. In the summer of 1967 he was on a youth hostel trip in Canada. Liz Siegel (1969) was on that same trip. She stumbled upon the photos and sent them to brother Peter (1966), who forwarded them to me. Art
1974 - Ellen Barnett Diana - Traveling Buddies
Writes Ellen - “So nice to see photographs of my classmates Debra Copeland and Elyse Rame Beyer!!! Traveling Buddies are Precious!
The Wheatley School Alumni Association Forum/Soapbox
Writes Jay Cummings (1960) - “The first Republican Congressional oversight hearing was a colossal waste of time, same old same old. All the liberals want is an open border for the future vote for illegals, their children and grandchildren to vote liberal with the intent of retaining power forever. They have no desire to keep the homeland safe, knowing that unvetted illegal invaders can’t get into their gated, walled communities. The liberal side of the aisle have their marching orders from the top radicals in their party and DHS Sec. Mayorkas knows it but has no integrity. The only way to solve the immigration problem is to vote with your heads and not with your bleeding hearts. Liberals, if you love immigrants so much, take them into your homes instead of four-star hotels around the corner from hard working citizens. Arm the strong male immigrants and let them fight for their homeland. Surely millions could defeat a few thousand in their regimes who control a small military. Our Constitution states we are a sovereign Nation that must secure our border or else our youth will keep dying from fentanyl and opioids and American crime will explode. All it takes is a few on the terrorist watch list to cause another 9/11, with New York always being the number one target. We must exterminate the evil killer cartels, the cause of human trafficking and the murdering of our youth; then retrieve their billions. We must secure our sovereign border, not only Ukraine’s.
Liberals are fawning over the State of the Union address given by a president with a 38% approval rating and 78% of the Country thinks we’re going in the wrong direction. No mention of our unsecured border with unvetted illegals invading American cities, out of control crime, Chinese spying, inflation, Afghanistan and billions to corrupt Ukraine, Biden being deep underwater in all the above categories. The Republicans are asking where are we getting more trillions for more socialist big government spending programs to ‘finish the job?’ We are witnessing the final nail in America’s economic coffin. Even Pinocchio is laughing. The government doesn’t create jobs, Joe, it sets the conditions for a robust economy, as most jobs came back from Covid. Give Speaker McCarthy credit for not ripping up Biden’s speech. You want to know the true State of the Union, listen to Governor Sarah Huckabee Sanders rebuttal. Last night your balloon burst, Joe, as all your lies fell flat on their face.”
Writes Joan Bressman Hoffman (1961) - “We have enough discord in our society today without bringing it into this newsletter. After reading yesterday’s forum I found myself not being able to let go of some of the stated opinions. I could choose to ignore this part, but I know I will give in and read it.”
Writes John Cilmi (1962) - “Hi, Art, When you first started posting political views I chimed in with my dismay. This comment is intended to be an update since you adjusted the format in response to my and others' views on the matter. Basically, I'm satisfied with the new format because I don't have to wade through the political posts to read the others. Thanks for that. I would add, though, that creating a separate forum, as suggested by others, would complete the task and possibly bring back those who have opted out.”
Writes Jill Simon Forte (1967) - “As I grow older my body cannot march and protest as I used to, but my mind resonates with outrage. My husband, Bob Forte (1965) and I attended the original Woodstock and felt the vibes of a generation that had hope for our future. I want our grandchildren to have the freedom we envisioned.”
Writes Paul “Flea” Ingrassia - “Art I run small groups and try to keep them apolitical, so I understand some of the comments about political arguments in the Newsletter. Our country is very polarized; too many people have an attitude of ‘I'm right, you’re wrong,’ whereas there is usually a middle ground that is more correct. I enjoy reading opinions that are different from my own; it gives me food for thought and helps me grow.”
Writes Ellen Barnett Diana (1974) - “Just enjoy the Newsletters and skip over what doesn’t interest you. It’s THAT simple-Why ya gotta make things so complicated 🙃🙂”
Writes Gregory Cave (1974) - Politics and worldly news should not be part of this publication. During my senior year at Wheatley I volunteered at the Baldwin Office of Congressional Representative Norman Lent. Since that experience I personally disdain all politics. I believe that we could run our entire country individually and collectively on our mobile phones. Just my opinion. Peace and love…..
Writes Linda Watnick (1977) - “I feel that Art created this newsletter and it should take whatever path he chooses! For such an intelligent group not to get into public discourse would be odd!”
1959 (Tracey Lanthier) - “Another great job. Thanks to everyone that takes the time to write to the Newsletter.”
1960 (Barbara Frankfort Patrick) - “I love reading your newsletter and keeping up with my fellow Wildcats no matter what their political stances are.”
1960 (Rochelle “Shelly” Levine Dicker) - ❤️
1961 (Deborah Kerstein Brosowsky) - ❤️
1962 (John Cilmi) - “Thanks so much for all your efforts and responsiveness.”
1962 (Howard Grindlinger) - “Thank you for this Wheatley online get-together. Bless you for your efforts.”
1965 (Henry “Hank” Alpert) - “I read the Newsletter as soon as you send it out.”
1965 (Bob Gregory) - “I can never thank you enough for your diligent work.”
1966 (Enid Shamitz Kamber) - ❤️
1967 (Arthur H. Brown) - “Dear Art, Many thanks for keeping all of us in touch. Keep up the good work.”
1967 (Steve Miller) - “Arthur, I appreciate all that you do, with consistent, even-handed treatment and measured judgement. How do you find the time? I hope that someday the news media will learn how to pronounce your name correctly.”
1967 (Jill Simon) - “Another one to enjoy, especially the shoutout by fellow liberal graduate 😉 Jim Paley (1964).”
1967 (Barbara Smith Stanisic) - ❤️
1968 (Mitchel Laskey) - “Thanks for your continued dedication to those of us that were privileged to participate, and now continue to share together, in the Wheatley School community as a result of your efforts.”
1972 (Richard Schroeck) - “I look forward to reading the Newsletter because it brings back so many memories. Keep up the good work.”
1974 (Ellen Barnett Diana) - ❤️
1974 (Gregory Cave) - “I read and enjoy the entire newsletter. I'm so grateful that you have such enthusiasm for your extremely detailed and very informative alumni publication. Thank you once again. The newsletter makes me feel more connected to Wheatley than the five years I attended ever did.”
1974 (James Elefonte) - “Hi Art, I would like to say thank you to you and your staff.”❤️
1975 (Toni Buckner LaPietra) - “Thanks for all you do, Art. I love the Newsletters!”
1977 (Peter Fitzpatrick) - ❤️
1980 (Alison Katz Wolfson) - ❤️
19?? (Anonymous) - “Thanks for all you do.
???? (JMKS????) - ❤️
That’s it for The Wheatley School Alumni Association Newsletter # 96. Please send me your autobiography before someone else sends me your obituary.
Arthur Fredericks Engoron, Class of 1967