October 21


One of the things  I love about planning these reunions is that I get to chat with so many old friends along the way. This morning it was Leslee Scheckman.

Each time, I'm transported back to our shared days at Union Avenue. I was in Fern's living room, playing on her ouija board. I was in Leslee's kitchen eating Kraft macaroni and cheese with breadcrumbs, I was baking bunny cakes with Fran, I was listening to Gloria's sister Roberta's 45s in her attic playroom, I was meeting Mark Engel on the path that went from Webster to his street, I was watching college basketball at Lonnie's, I was sick at home when Eliot dropped off my wristlet on the way to his bar mitzvah celebration, I was swimming in Joey Correia's pool.

One conversation stood out among the others. It's haunted me since we had it. Maybe because, now that I'm retired and working as a lunch aide in an elementary school, I see it with my 70 year old eyes. But one of our classmates, probably more, isn't coming for a reason. They (not being Woke, just preserving anonymity) weren't exactly ostracized, but they weren't part of what I call 'The Bar Mitzvah Crowd' and a large swath of us didn't interact with 'them'. It makes my heart hurt to know that someone has carried this for all these years. 




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