www.andover.edu/intouch 1943 PHILLIPS Richard L. Ordeman 619 Oakwood Ave. Dayton OH 45419 937-299-9652 mbo510@aol.com
Thanks again to Mary and Dick Harshman, there will be another 1943 Naples, Fla., class gathering at the Harshmans’, this one on Feb. 25, 2015, at 11:30 a.m. It’s always a good get-together, and Dick makes incredibly delicious sandwiches! Please let Dick or me know if you can join us. The last class notes included a piece on Wendy and Jim Munro’s experiences riding high-speed trains in China. Bard Smith followed up that story with a China train experience of his own, writing, “Paths crisscross, given enough time. Some take longer; this one took 70 years. Jim’s reference to being in the train station in Tianjin (huge city in North China) early this year parallels my year in Tianjin in the First Marine Division (1945–46), repatriating the Japanese arriving by train from Manchuria; I met them and made sure they got on another train going to the coast, where they would board a U.S. Navy troop ship en route to Japan. Those 1945 trains barely ‘hummed’ along.” Jack Morris lives in Bremen, Maine. He tells me he lives only 10 feet from the water, but 12 feet above it. Without cable, and with trees (which he won’t cut down) that partially block his satellite reception, he only receives several PBS channels. In spite of the lack of TV, Jack, who passed the 90-year mark earlier this year, seems to be enjoying life. He says he does more reading than anything else. At the end of our conversation, he mentioned he was a little lame but walks his dog, who’s a little lame too. Hal Owen was at Andover from 1955 to 1991, teaching English and theatre and contributing much to the school in other ways as well: overseeing the creation of the theatre department, directing more than 40 musicals and plays, coaching sports, and directing the Andover Summer Session. After retirement he moved to Maine, where he lives in a Camden retirement home in the winter and on Matinicus Island in the summer. Matinicus is five miles long and located about 30 miles off the Maine coast. Hal has lost his wife. However, his five children live in the area. As to activities, he says he plays Ping-Pong if someone asks him and an occasional game of bridge, but after talking to him, I bet he’s a lot more active than that. I was impressed to find Charlie Weiner at his office on a mid-September Monday morning— impressed because I don’t think we have too many other classmates who have offices outside their homes. Charlie told me he’s 90 but still in good health, as is Lynn, his wife of 62 years. He’s reduced his international marketing client base in recent years but is still very active in the business. Charlie and Lynn have a place on Shelter Island, N.Y., at the
tip of Long Island, where they spend three months in the summer and many weekends during the year. Though Charlie’s been an active sailor over the years and participated in international races, he says those days are behind him, and he’s happy with his 22-foot outboard. Charlie and Lynn have three sons and three grandchildren. Audrey Bensley, Diz Bensley’s widow, sounded good on the phone in early September, although she indicated she’d been quite ill. Audrey has moved to a retirement home in North Andover and feels good about being there. Her daughter Jennifer ’78 lives in Greece, six miles from Marathon, and teaches English. Daughter Wendy ’69 has lived on Samoa for 20 years. Audrey’s two surviving sons, Zachariah ’88 and Christopher ’76, live in the area. I’m sorry to report the loss of another classmate. Bill Pabst died on May 28, 2014. During WWII, Bill served with the 86th Infantry Division in both the European and Pacific theaters. Following the war, he attended Babson College. Bill had a wide-ranging business career that included investments, manufacturing, cattle ranching, real estate, and distributing boats and RV vehicles. Bill is survived by his wife, Mary Lee, two children, two grandchildren, and a great-grandson. He is also survived by six stepchildren and seven stepgrandchildren. Our class extends its sympathy to Bill’s family.
1944 ABBOT
Emily McMurray Mead P.O. Box 292 Etna NH 03750 603-643-3741 Emily_mead@valley.net
PHILLIPS Angus Deming 975 Park Ave., Apt. 2A New York NY 10028-0323 212-794-1206 ademingusmc@aol.com
Maybe it’s a case of post–70th Reunion doldrums. Or maybe it’s just a spell of relative inactivity induced by the lazy days of summertime (summer 2014, that is). Whatever the reason, our classmates have not exactly set the world on fire since the last time they sent news of themselves. Rest assured, though, the Class of ’44 still has a pulse. Consider Stan Dickey. “Not much new but wanted you to know I’m still hanging in there,” he reported by e-mail back in mid-August. “Did play golf today—though just nine holes. Did reasonably well and felt even better.” Stan must have come in off the links just in time to avoid getting soaked by bad weather that definitely put a damper on Long Island around then. “Unbelievable rain on Tuesday
[that would be August 12, 2014],” Stan went on to say. “No less than 8.2 inches here in Massapequa, N.Y., in one day. Lots of closed roads and quite a few cars abandoned. Got a leak in the crawl space.” Declared our ever-philosophical classmate: “This will give you some idea of how exciting life in Massapequa has become. If it weren’t for a glass of wine before dinner...” Nevertheless, Stan had what he called a “bright spot” to report—namely, that his grandson Paul had volunteered for the Peace Corps and been assigned to Guatemala. His stint in the troubled Central American country should prove both exciting and challenging. A couple more of our classmate-philosophers offered their own observations on life at our somewhat advanced age. They’re appropriately meditative, but they do sound just a tad downbeat now and then. In a handwritten note he sent me, Roger Strong said, “I wish I had some inspirational news, as we all seem to be reaching the end of the tunnel (where is the light?).” In the very next breath, though, Roger confessed that “summer has been restful and quiet.” That’s more like it. Forget about that tunnel, will you? In a somewhat similar vein, Dick Abrons, in one of his periodic blog posts on the Huffington Post, pondered “Old Age Revisited.” Writing at the age of 87, and post–70th Reunion, Dick penned an update on an essay he wrote on the same blog on his 80th birthday. On that previous occasion, he had listed the usual laments about attaining the status of old age. This time around, he writes, he knows it’s old age because he can feel it in his bones. And what does that mean? He says he now has trouble “covering one half of a doubles court.” To which I would respond, If you’re able to get out on the court at all—let alone chase balls in a game of doubles—you’re doing just fine. Anyway, Dick seems to have found our 70th Reunion revivifying. “I walked all over the majestic and once merciless campus,” he wrote. “Anxieties and fears that had followed me into maturity seemed to melt away. Yes, that is a good thing.” And so it is. Incidentally, if you want to know what Dick Abrons has been doing all this time, here is his resume in a nutshell, as posted at the head of his blog: “Playwright; vice chairman and former president, Henry Street Settlement; director, Grow NYC; director, Bronx Children’s Museum; president, Louis and Anne Abrons Foundation; retired founding partner, First Manhattan Co.” If you want to “become a fan” of Dick’s blog, go to http://huff.to/1u4uyT8 and follow the prompts. Good news from Sherwood “Woody” Stockwell out in Colorado. He’s finished his latest book, titled Sherwood. No, it’s not all about him. Rather, it’s the tale of a roguish hero of the Old West by the name of Rupert Sherwood, described in the book’s subtitle as “Stowaway, Jockey, Rancher, Prospector, Gambler, Saloon Owner, Mine Owner, Politician, and Owner of Prunes the Burro.” It’s conceivable, given their shared name, that Rupert and Woody might be distantly related—though that may also be a bit of a stretch. Whatever the Andover | Winter 2015
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