Henry Henry Herskovitz

Good memory, Rick. Yes, Ricky Grove was the first to challenge authority, esp when Mr. Rankin came off as such a pompous teacher. Ricky could have been the Mudhead character in Firesign Theater's "Porgie and Mudhead" series ... one of the many I would have liked to have met as an adult

I also wish I would have known Barry better. And Tom yes, he was a giant among us.  When Rick Slone wrote about an anonymous individual who bailed him out when he was threatened in the stairwell at Allderdice, it was Lischner who did the bailing.

His name invokes the famous quote "You beat the House and the House beats you" in reference to Westinghouse High School, whom Allderdice beat in 1964 (or was it 1963?). I'm sure Lischner had a hand in that memorable (?) victory. Selfishly, I only remember the bus being pelted with rocks on our exit from Westinghouse's field.

Go Dragons, RIP Barry

For Carey,

As your dad’s classmates (and you) have attested, Rick excelled at everything he tried. He was popular, athletic and admired by all, boys and girls. But Fuggettabout all that… The man could stop Time. It happened; I was there.

It was fifth grade and we were on our way home from Colfax. We were maybe five of us on the backside of Davis School. They call it something else now, but it’ll always be Davis School to us. A steep hill sloped down to Phillips Avenue and since the snow had stopped, were lobbing snowballs on the passing cars. It was a Pittsburgh snow, wet and dense, not like the powder you’re used to in Ketchum.

Colfax’s gym class was coached by a fellow named Don Seamon. We were Seamon’s Demons, and Coach Seamon created some sports events for us to compete in. One such was “Softball throw for distance”, and your dad set the record. Not only set the record, he “Beamon’d” it. (Ref: Bob Beamon in the long jump ’68 Olympics). Never mind that Bob hadn’t achieved his fame at the time, Ricky (he was Ricky then) still Beamon’d it. He had an arm like no other, and I believe the record still stands.

Anyhow, back to the hill behind Davis School, and pelting cars. Your dad worked up a huge snowball; some of us were watching him building it, some still hurling smaller ones. He reared back and launched this 5-pound hunk of near-solid ice at a 45 degree upward angle towards Phillips Avenue. And at the exact same time somebody yelled “Hold it! It’s a cop car!!”

It wasn’t just a cop car. It was a Pennsylvania State Police car. It was big. I think it was a Plymouth (they used to make Plymouths), and it had a big hood. I think it was blue. Never mind. The point being, that at the moment this snowball had just about reached its vertical apex, and as our ten eyes were tracking its flight along with the horizontal motion of the State Cop Car, something happened.
 
A heavenly hand intervened and Time literally stopped. Our eyes went back and forth during this time-suspended reality. First to the snowball, then to the Cop Car. Then back again. There was this sinking feeling in the pit of our stomachs as Time resumed its relentless path to wherever, and both snowball and vehicle traveled to their now doomed-to-meet destination. Fate was speaking.

The THUD that emanated from Snowball striking Big Hood could have been heard in Hazelwood. Mouths dropped as the big Plymouth’s front tires skidded to a stop, the front end of the car diving towards the pavement. Mouths gaped even wider when both front doors opened. It was the last thing we five saw.

In 13 nanoseconds I was in my mother’s kitchen asking “So, what’s for dinner?” No memory whatever of how I got there. No recollection of which streets traveled, people seen, traffic lights, slippery sidewalks, nothing. Nada. Davis School one moment, Mom’s kitchen the next. 13 nanoseconds.

I wasn’t alone. Five other eyewitnesses confirmed the event, and all testimony was identical: 13 nanoseconds, no recollection of distance traveled, and “Hey, mom, what’s for dinner?”

So when someone tells you that your Dad did this or that, please smile to them and know in your heart he did what no one – not even Clark Kent – ever achieved. He stopped Time.

You could look it up.

Nothing validated my life more than my yearly phone chats with Rick. I suppose that sounds silly, but there ya' go... exchanged emails with him less than a month ago ... haven't been this distraught since my pop died ... hugs to you, Joyce ... there wasn't a kid at Colfax that didn't want to be like Rick 

Remembering the time Cappy and Hobbs(?) poured some water into an overheating, AIR-cooled Corvair. They used the crankcase opening, designed to accept motor oil. When Hobbs noted that the radiator (totaly missing) must have been very small, Cappy responded "It's a small engine!"

And Rick, it's comforting to know you're watching over the rest of us.

Posted on: Nov 07, 2018 at 9:31 AM

The recent politicizing of the events at Tree of Life led me to think of that fable we read in Colfax: The North Wind bragged about his strength, and claimed to the Sun that he could remove the coat from a man traveling a winding road. But the harder the Wind blew, the tighter the man held onto the coat. Then the Sun came out from behind a cloud and his presence warmed the air and frosty ground. The man eventually took off his coat and sat down in a shady spot.

I've always felt comforted by this tale, and the self-reflection it invites.

Memory fades after 57 short years, but I believe that Lenny made up a joke that he told us 8th graders. Whether he did or did not, I'd like to think that it originated in his intellectual (even then) mind. It goes like this:

On an island far away there lived the Main Bird, whom everyone thought of as their Leader.

One day the Main Bird grew ill, and his condition worsened by the day. The elders of the island thought his condition would improve if the yeast content in his diet were increased. So he was given more bread, pizza, some beer, muffins, bisquits and scones.

Unfortunately, his medical condition continued to worsen, so the elders met again and decided that, since humor is the best medicine, that they would call in the Court Jester and  have him perform for the Main Bird. The Jester came in and told jokes, did somersaults, paraded around the Main Bird in funny costumes for hours.

But to no avail. The Main Bird's condition worsened and amongst great sadness on the island, he passed away a few days later.

And the moral of this story is
Though Yeast is Yeast
and Jest is Jest
Never the Main shall tweet

Thank you, Lenny Wanetik