An amazing event occurred one day in gym class. I'm a bit hazy on the specifics, but it must have happened when I was at Haston. There was a rope coming down from the ceiling in the gymnasium. It was usually tied up, but sometimes the rope was free, and if no one older than twenty was around, we would play Tarzan with it, swinging back and forth, cutting loose with blood-curdling Tarzan yells. One day the rope was down during gym class. The teacher had us all gather around, and instructed us to take turns, to see who could make it up to the the top. I can still remember, looking up that rope and marveling at the great distance to the ceiling. It must have been 40 feet, or more! I thought the teacher must have been joking. No one could make it up there! I didn't know any physics then, but I was sure there was an awful lot of gravity between where I stood and the ceiling. Most of us boys were pretty scrawny at that age, but we each gave it our best shot. I tried going up the same way as those preceding me: First, I gave the thick rope a bear hug, then using both arms, legs, and feet, I slowly shimmied up the rope as far as I could. Most of us only went up 6 or 7 feet, (I went up 7 feet 5 inches, because I was taller) a few slowly inched up to 8 or 9 feet, before sliding back down again. "Hey, what does he expect!" I thought. "We're going against gravity here!" Then John Chlipala, (who had a pretty good build for a kid his age) grabbed the rope, and with no apparent effort, flew up to the ceiling, pulling himself, hand over hand, using only his arms. He touched the ceiling, then came down as fast as he went up. His entire trip up to the ceiling and back, took only a few seconds. Each boy stood there gaping like a bass. I was flabbergasted! I never imagined that anyone, especially one of my classmates, could do that! I'm glad that I was there that day. This event stands out as one of my most cherished memories.

Back to top

"Creative Writing" by Sally Slomzenski Milo

I only recall one piece of writing I did in Mr. Clark's Creative Writing class in the 10th grade - Unfortunately, it wasn't an assignment, but rather, a note I passed to Randy Edwards. "Randy, what is a HEART on?", I wrote. But, my sweet buddy would never tell me...Ah, our 15 year old innocence and modesty!
9/2/01

Back to top

"September 11, 2001" by Linda Stanier

While I am fortunate thus far in not having anyone I personally know badly hurt by this horrific catastrophe, there were a lot of close calls and near misses for me and those close to me. Oddly enough, even living through two separate years of having my father in the Vietnam never gave me a more gut-wrenching time than I -- along with millions of others living and working here -- had on Tuesday morning.

When I left my apartment on the Upper East Side at 8:55 a.m., I had just heard news that Trade Tower 1 had been hit by a plane. At that point, I was horrified to know that there would be deaths and injuries, but thought that some small private plane had had engine failure and couldn't control its descent. Ten minutes later, while coming down Second Avenue by bus to my midtown office, the news came that it was actually a commercial airliner that had hit Trade 1 and that a second airliner had flown into Trade 2. It didn't take more than a split second for everyone to realize two things: 1) that it was a terrorist attack and 2) airliners meant loads of jet fuel and a total inferno for buildings where at least 20,000 people were already at work. And a second later, I was also frantically thinking that at least half a dozen of my own staff and friends plus dozens of my company's employees were usually coming thru the World Trade Center by PATH train from Jersey or by subway from Brooklyn at that same time, let alone the people we all knew who worked in the area.

By some miracle, those I was thinking about either were thru the immediate area before the second plane hit or had started late and their trains were turned back. Others that I know who work in the area were elsewhere because of off-site meetings or made it out the moment they knew the first airliner had hit. But it was hours til I knew because phone lines were jammed and cell phone service was either impacted by the loss of the WTC antennas or simply overloaded by volume of calls. Even now, Wednesday night, phone service is sporadic to several exchanges in the city.

I'm lucky -- everyone I know and their families are accounted for. But thousands of people are missing and it will be days, perhaps weeks, before their families and friends know for sure one way or another. And we will endure the sight of the recovery and the agony of all those who are down there in the rescue and recovery effort.

And make no mistake about it, everyone in this city is and will feel it. I can't describe what it was like being huddled with others around a TV and suddenly seeing our Twin Towers implode, taking hundreds of brave fire fighters and policemen who were attempting to help evacuate the thousands with it -- including our Fire Dept. Captain, Deputy Chief, Dept. chaplain Father Michael Judge and the head of Search and Rescue who had led NY's volunteers during the Oklahoma City tragedy. All gone in an instant -- and those are just the few we can actually identify right now....

From my office window on a sunny day, seeing thousands of people walking to and over the 59th Street Bridge as everyone got the word to go home, even tho the trains, buses, bridges and tunnels were initially closed to vehicles. Walking 40 blocks home myself, down streets and avenues that are usually teeming with traffic as well as pedestrians -- no vehicles on them except police cars and emergency vehicles continually heading downtown. Totally surreal scenes keep coming back from that walk -- people trying to talk on cell phones, others stopping to sit down at restaurants, delis, bars -- almost like a normal day, except everyone straining to see the TVs that are always on in those locations. Passing stores and people handing out water just because it was a hot day for walking so far, people posting or handing out flyers on where to go to give blood, and seeing long lines at the hospitals and blood center I go past on the way home (and feeling even more helpless and frustrated that I'm permanently defered from giving blood because I once had malignant melanoma). And through it all, all of us periodically stopping to talk to each other, normally just strangers, to ask if each other is okay, especially as we were continually stopping and turning to look downtown, confounded by the sight of this awful, towering plume of smoke against the blue sky.

It was still there this morning and afternoon when I looked downtown, emerging with thousands of others to go out and go to offices that weren't officially open or simply to go about daily life. If you asked why, the answer was simple -- just showing the bastards who did this or who are rejoicing about it that no one here is going to hide or sit around apathetically, we're going to go on like before. But it hurts. We're all continually watching or listening to the news like it's some sort of narcotic. And we all keep looking at each other and saying things like "but it's our city, our neighbors, that they're talking about." And the news isn't getting any better. Every new or replayed video and interview, every eyewitness account, even those from survivors, is just another painful twist of the knife in our psyches. And I know we're not alone, I know others across the country are feeling it, too, but it's still here. I've spent many, many hours in the World Trade Center complex, and I still can't believe it's totally gone no matter how many times I see the video replay.

When I woke up this morning, for a split second I was convinced everything was okay, that I'd just had a vivid and terrible nightmare. And then I realized it was still true. And unfortunately, the nightmare isn't over. Several buildings in the World Trade Center area are still collapsing or in danger of collapse, which means that rescuers are periodically pulled back, however reluctantly, from their search through the tons of rubble. God knows, we already lost too many of them yesterday. But each delay means that anyone who might have survived somehow underneath won't be found in time to do any good.

God help them. And God forgive me, but may He send us an Avenging Angel. The city and the country will of course survive this and go on, but none of us here believe everything will ever be the same, even after that plume of smoke finally dissipates. America's been lucky for a long time, but if anyone's ever said, "it can't happen here" we know better now.

Back to top

"Can't Forget the Motor City" by Mike McDowell

Depending upon your perspective at the time, spending the years 1967-1971
at Crestwood High School was either an endurance test or an opportunity to
live out the Riverdale dream, as depicted in the pages of Archie Comics.

But regardless of which side of Ford Road you called home in the late 1960s,
the general consensus was that Michigan was the place to be during that
tumultuous era. The Detroit area was a cultural catalyst in a number of fields
and actually led the rest of the country in music and sports. Ironically, it was
that leadership that would enable Michigan to recover from a near
devastating turn of events in the summer of 1967.

By the beginning of 1967, the war in Viet Nam had begun to seriously divide
the country. President Johnson’s insistence upon a growing military presence
there encountered opposition in a number of ways. Musicians such as the
Royal Guardsmen and solo artist Keith (of 98.6 fame) found themselves
facing considerable legal opposition for their conscientious objector stance
with respect to the draft. The city of San Francisco even celebrated a Summer
of Love in opposition to the military escalation, with bands like Jefferson
Airplane and Big Brother and the Holding Company encouraging people to
demonstrate their opposition to the war via “peace and love”, as well as the
indiscriminate ingestion of a variety of chemical substances which remain
illegal to this day.

The war in Viet Nam was as much of a concern in Michigan in 1967 as it
was throughout the rest of the country. But Michigan had its own issues to
confront, as the Summer of Love turned into the Summer of Hate. Cultural
tensions in the Detroit area had been escalating for years, and finally came to
a head. The riot that broke out in Downtown Detroit on the 23rd of July
resulted in several dozen deaths and millions of dollars in damages.

In the aftermath of the riot, it seemed as though it would take a miracle for
the Detroit area to recover. Not only had its national reputation been
tarnished, but once-thriving streets such as Michigan Avenue, Woodward
Avenue and John R Street were reduced to piles of rubble. However, by the
following year, Detroit would have its miracle in the form of a proud little
baseball club that met at the intersection of Michigan Avenue and Trumbull.

Despite setbacks like pitching ace Mickey Lolich’s ten consecutive losses
and the team’s season-ending collapse to the California Angels during the
1967 campaign, the Detroit Tigers knew that with some fine tuning, they
would be a serious contender in 1968. They also realized that the City of
Detroit, which briefly teetered on the brink of extinction as a result of the riot,
desperately needed a public relations makeover.

And in 1968, the Tigers gave Detroit what it so desperately needed: a public
relations makeover and a renewed sense of purpose. Fielders Gates Brown,
Al Kaline, Stormin’ Norman Cash, Dick McAuliffe, Willie Horton, Don
“Coyote” Wert, Ray Oyler, Bill Freehan and Jim Northrup combined with
the crack pitching staff of Joe Sparma, Earl Wilson, John Hiller, Mickey
Lolich and the amazing Denny McLain (who clinched an unprecedented 31
victories that season) to give the Tigers an upset World Series victory over
the defending champion Saint Louis Cardinals that October.

In contrast to the previous year’s calamity, the people of Detroit took to the
streets that October in celebration of the Tigers’ victory. From Detroit’s Herman’s
Gardens to suburban Harper Woods, people rallied together in support of
their hometown heroes.

With all due respect to the Pistons, Lions and Gordie Howe’s Red Wings,
the Tigers in 1968 put Detroit back on the map and did more to turn around
the setbacks of 1967 than any politician or social program could. “I believe
that the 1968 Tigers were put here by God to heal this city”, Willie Horton
later observed. Few would contest that assessment.

Southeastern Michigan also excelled in music during those heady times. In fact,
Detroit (along with New Orleans) was considered a test market by the
recording industry. New singles would first be released in Detroit and New
Orleans. The recording industry would then gauge the record buying public’s
response before opting to promote a given release in other markets.

The Detroit area also flourished as a hotbed of local talent during those
years. The weekly music charts of WKNR Keener 13 radio were liberally
peppered in 1967 with such superlative homegrown garage bands as the
Wanted, Woolies, Unrelated Segments, Tidal Waves, Underdogs, Capreez,
Southbound Freeway and Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels, as well as the
Rationals and Bob Seger and the Last Heard from nearby Ann Arbor and
Terry Knight and the Pack and the Bossmen from Flint. These bands often
ran head-to-head on the WKNR playlists with their national counterparts like
the Beach Boys (who by 1967 had forsaken the surf and hot rods for the
psychedelic exuberance of Smile), the Monkees, the Lovin’ Spoonful, the
Blues Magoos and the Electric Prunes.

Simultaneously, Detroit was leading the way in the crusade to make rhythm
and blues music a major cultural contender, rather than a special interest
pleasure. The Motown family of labels was the front runner, with the
infallible Temptations, Stevie Wonder, Four Tops, Marvin Gaye, Miracles
and Supremes. Numerous smaller labels such as Ric-Tic, Groovesville and
Revilot were also helping put Detroit R&B on the musical map via the
Fantastic Four, Edwin Starr, J.J. Barnes, Darrell Banks and the Parliaments
(whose I Wanna Testify topped the Detroit charts at the beginning of the
1967-1968 school year).

True to form, Detroit embraced both musical ideologies with equal
enthusiasm. Radio stations such as CKLW in Windsor and the
aforementioned WKNR espoused playlists with healthy variety. And Robin
Seymour’s essential Swingin’ Time television program provided a daily live
showcase for local talent of all stripes, as did such clubs as the Mummp and
the Hullabaloo.

By 1971, the names and faces had changed. But Detroit remained a leader in
both fields. Although Denny McLain had been traded to the Washington Senators,
Mickey Lolich managed an impressive 25 wins for the Tigers that season.
Musically, the garage bands and R&B pioneers had been succeeded by the
hard rock of the MC5, the Amboy Dukes, SRC, Funkadelic, the Stooges, the
Frost, Grand Funk Railroad and Savage Grace. Crestwood’s own Silverhawk
even scored a WKNR top ten single in early 1971 with their hard-rocking
cover of George Harrison’s Awaiting On You All.

Although primarily a blue collar community due to the presence of the Big
Three automakers, the Detroit area enjoyed considerable economic prosperity
during that season of cultural growth. Shopping was as state-of-the-art in
Michigan as it was elsewhere, with upscale retailers such as Hudson’s,
Montgomery Ward, E.J. Korvette, Crowley and Federal competing with such
big box discount outlets as Arlan’s, Shoppers Fair, Topps, Atlantic and
Spartan. Of these, only Hudson’s has survived to the present day, although it is undergoing a corporate name change later this year.

And for pure recreational value, Edward Hines Park and Camp Dearborn
were hard to beat for low-cost outdoor fun. Neighboring Windsor, Ontario
also provided a convenient way to sample international flavor for the cost of
passage across the Ambassador Bridge or through the Windsor Tunnel.

But in June 1971 graduation came, and with it, the end of the Crestwood
years for the class of 1971. Those who called Dearborn Heights home were
soon scattered throughout the country to pursue higher education, the job
market or even the military in those final months of the Viet Nam conflict.

The Detroit area went on to endure a major economic downturn in the
mid-1970s, but it has since bounced back remarkably. So much so that a
national news magazine recently voted nearby Livonia as one of the ten best
cities to live in the United States. Sporting News also awarded Detroit the
distinction of being the top sports city in America in 1998 in honor of the
Red Wings’ Stanley Cup victory. So whether you moved on years ago or
have weathered the storms to reap the benefits, there can be no doubt that
Michigan was one of the best places to call home during the Crestwood years.

Back to top

"I'll Bet You Never Would Have Thought..." by Mike Menz

I'll bet you never would have thought……………
That the rumors about Childs and Hamrick were true.
That the Dearborn Drive-In would be torn down.
That Riverside and Crestwood would merge.
That Richard Nixon would resign.
That the war in Viet Nam would end the way it did.
I'll bet you never would have thought……………
That Disco would last.
That people would buy "Pet Rocks."
That you would know someone that wore a leisure suit.
That you would have to choose between VHS and Beta
That a micro-wave wasn't a small greeting.
I'll bet you never would have thought……………
That you would learn the words to "Rocky Horror"
That Roe versus Wade weren't two ways to cross a river.
That Elvis would die and Barry Manilow wouldn't.
That the high school boys' nemesis, the " Unannounced Erection" could be put into pill form and sold as Viagra.
That you would waste so much time trying to solve Rubik's Cube
I'll bet you never would have thought……………
That you wouldn't think anything of driving out to Novi to shop.
That the "rebuilding" of Detroit would take this long.
That you would get Television on cable and phone service without one.
That Monica Lewinsky would KEEP that blue dress and not have it cleaned.
That you would own a minivan.
I'll bet you never would have thought……………
That you would sound like your parents when you talk to your kids.
That they would really fire the Crestwood teachers.
That Sloe Gin & 7-Up would be replaced by GHB.
That gray hair was a sign of wisdom.
That the Walrus Paul was alive and John Lennon was dead.
And finally, I'll bet you never would have thought that you would be looking
forward to "gettin' lucky" with a partner in their late forties.

Back to top

"In 1971, No One Thought of..." by Sally Slomzenski Milo

In 1971, we didn't know of:

Pres. GHW Bush - W - Dana Carvey - SNL - Isn't that special - That's the ticket - U look mahvelous - Fonzie - Richie Cunningham - Matlock - Barney - Jurassic Park - Survivor - Reality TV - Slow speed chase - Rodney King - camcorders - Betamax - Baywatch - Charlie's Angels - Bosom Buddies - Tom Hanks - Forrest Gump - Shit Happens - Depends - Zip Loc Baggies - Recycled Products - Nuclear meltdown - Homer Simpson - Fox TV - WB - EIB - Rush Limbaugh - Dr Laura - Judge Judy - Judge Ito

Jennifer Lopez - Atkins diet - Lean Cuisine - Microwave popcorn - Be kind, Rewind - VCRs - Cassette tapes - CDs - PCs - Microsoft - Hostile takeovers - Sadaam Hussein - Khadafi - Khomeni - Nightline - Jesse Ventura - WWF

Starbucks - Perrier - Yuppies - Hot Tubs - Love Boat - Tammy Faye & Jim Bakker - Achy Breaky Heart - Garth Brooks - Party on Wayne - Green Party - Libertarian Party - Howard Stern - Air bags - Anti-lock brakes - Road Rage - Going postal - Who shot JR - School shootings - They Killed Kenny - Dr Kevorkian - Organ Transplants - Lorena Bobbitt - Fatal Attraction - Sexual Harassment - Anita Hill - Political correctness - Unabomber

Motor City Casino - Ren Cen - People Mover - Joe Louis Arena - Comerica Ball park - Silverdome - Hair Club 4 Men - Chia Pets - Pet rocks - Rocky - Rocky Horror Picture Show - Gay Rights - Alternative lifestyles - Lifestyles of the Rich & Famous - Princess Di - Artist formerly known as Prince - Party like it's 1999, Y2K - X Files - Generation X

Bar Codes - GPS - Palm pilots - Cell phones - Stem cells - Dolly the sheep - Designer jeans - Buns of Steel - Crack - Rap - Punk - New age music - Disco - Leisure suits - Miami Vice - NYPDBlue - Blue Bros - Dan Akroyd - "Jane, you ignorant slut" - "I did not have sex with that woman" - Ken Starr - People's Court - Dimpled chads - Pres GW Bush - www - Email - Ebay - Internet - Al Gore - Hillary - White Water - Watergate - Water World

Michael Jackson & Lisa Marie - Child-proof lighters - Non-smoking sections - Early Pregnacy Test - Pre-nup agreements - Roseanne - Tom Arnold - Arnold Schwarzenegger - Sigfried & Roy - Safe Sex - Aids - Ryan White - Elton John - Eminem - Where's the beef - Viagra - I love u, man - Wazzup - Lite Beer - Monday Nite Football - Regis & Kathy Lee - Regis & Kelly - Who Wants to be a Millionaire - dot coms

Mr T - Mr Coffee - Got Milk - Silicone Implants - &, of course, Brittney Spears

Back to top

"Why I Teach" by Mary Griffin Kline

I teach to pay debts, make deposits, and because it is what I was meant to do. As a teacher of history and economics, I understand the power of the individual. History is the story of individuals impacting the future. Economics is the study of the choices they make. Teaching enables me to pay debts from my past, make deposits for our futures, and realize a lifelong mission.

Every lesson I teach enables me to repay some of the blessings received from teachers in my past. Mrs. Cox, an extraordinary third grade teacher, took a frightened, disconnected little girl and showered her with possibilities, compassion, and hope. Each time that I am able to open possibilities for a student who has given up, connect with a student reticent to speak, or provide hope to an adolescent in despair, a payment is made on the debt I owe that dedicated and gifted teacher. Each book that I loan a student, each phone call to a parent, each birthday song I sing, gives voice to all that she was. I teach so that her spirit lives on.

The names of the others I once called 'teacher' are too numerous to mention. All became a part of the teacher who now stands among my students. Their voices create the harmony that adds music to my lessons and helps me choreograph the dance. What a huge debt to repay. I teach to say thank you.

Although I am indebted to my past, I am awed by my obligation to the future. Each morning I look into the eyes of the future and know that I must make a difference. I must teach so that there are no doors closed to my students because they are not prepared to compete. I must teach so there is always hope that the past doesn't have to define the future. I must teach so that my students understand that a mistake isn't failure, and they still have an important role in what the world will become. I teach because all students are worth it.

To most, heroes are names in history books or sports magazines. I consider many of my students heroes. Some come to school each day after evenings of chaos that would disable most adults. Some have never eaten a meal at a family dinner table or been read to as they were tucked into bed. I have students whose parents have died or disappeared, leaving them to parent younger siblings. Indeed, I have students who ARE parents. Still, they find the courage to come to school, and they count on me to help. I am honored to help them visualize and realize futures never before imagined. I teach to reward their heroism.

As a parent, I understand the awesome responsibility that comes with the birth of a child. My compassion extends to the parents of students who often have more questions than answers. Their hopes for their children didn't begin with the first problem or end with the last. They continue to dream of success for their sons and daughters. Still, they entrust me with the education of their children. I am obligated to earn that trust. Together, we make plans to rebuild the broken bridges that will lead to tomorrow and all of its possibilities. I teach because these parents are worth it.

The feeling of accomplishment in creating a lesson that works comes from understanding the importance of each moment in a classroom. There are none to be wasted in the lives of my students, their families, and our community. The sense of camaraderie that emerges from working with dedicated colleagues reflects belief in the power of a committed group of people to impact lives. The excitement of watching a student mature and make plans for a future once unimaginable makes my heart soar. I teach because we soar together.

All of this culminates in one awe-inspiring event each June. The pieces and families come together. Tassels and gowns overshadow the multi-colored hair and earrings. The faces no longer search the floor but rise to the audience and the occasion. My efforts and theirs become a visual production. The practice and persistence march proudly through the doors. The work of teachers past, the teamwork of colleagues, the hopes and dreams of parents, all meet in that one smile or fist in the air. Each year, as I watch my students walk across the graduation stage, the splendor and sadness still knock me off my feet. I teach because it is what I was meant to do.

Back to top

"Where Were You?" by Claudia Duff

Where were you? Where were you when the plane hit the World Trade Center on Sepember 11th? I don’t mean physically –but emotionally and mentally?

Did you hug your husband and children as you left for work? Did you sister or brother or mother or father know how much you loved them? Did you enjoy your last vacation?

On Tuesday, September 11th, I was on the 61st floor of the Trade Center #2. I am very grateful to be a survivor. I’m also making up for lost time because I found out that I couldn’t answer yes to all of the above questions.

I’m one of the lucky ones who have another chance to let my family and friends know how much I love and appreciate them. I told my brother Pat I loved him – he cried. It was the first time I told him that in 46 years.

Make the most of your life today because you never know what will happen tomorrow. It was great seeing everyone at the class reunion. I’m sorry I didn’t get around to meet everyone again but I’m kind of a shy person. I was surprised at the number of people who tracked me down in New York as I tried to get home.

You never know who might be a friend unless to pick up the phone and call. Please call or e-mail me if you need to talk to an old friend, I’d be happy to talk about school, sports or life.

Love Claudia

Back to top

"Whoda Thunk It" by Sally Slomzenski Milo

About the same time we graduated from high school, I read "Honor Thy Father" by Gay Talese. It was about the Bonanno Mafia family, particularly about Bill & his father. A year later, I watched The Godfather with interest - it was supposedly based on the Bonannos. For some reason, the Mafia was an interesting topic to me.

Several years later I was living with my now ex in Tucson. One day, his sister (full-blooded Italian American) brought her new beau to meet us - Joe Bonanno, grandson & namesake of you-know-who. Though my ex became my ex, my daughter became Joe III's niece by marriage and was invited to all activities of "the Family".

Fast-forward to June, 2004, and my daughter's baby shower. I'd been selling other people's stuff on eBay for a few years by then & told stories about a couple of my most exciting sales. A few days later, one of the others at the shower, Rosalie Bonanno, (Joe III's mom & daughter-in-law to the Godfather himself) called and asked if I'd be interested in selling her father-in-law's estate on eBay. You betcha!

When I listed the first estate items on eBay, we produced a press release - and received world-wide press about how the Godfather's estate was on eBay. (It sure helped towards buying a used mini-van a few months later!)

I've sold things from a single fava bean (Italian good luck charm) left in his dresser drawer to a hand-carved walking stick to hundreds of his cancelled checks to Mr. B's 1945 Certificate of Naturalization.

I never knew how celebrity memorabilia, particularly items from a mobster, would sell so nicely - nor did I expect that 4 years later, I'd still be getting items from the estate. (The FBI sure didn't know Mr. B kept EVERYTHING!)

One of the most interesting things for me was to hear many stories I'd read about years ago first-hand from Bill, Mr. B's son & Rosalie's husband. Imagine if you will, sitting across the table discussing the drug wars of the last couple decades, comparing that to Prohibition and having a "made man" tell you that Prohibition was "the Government's gift to 'US'"! I had the opportunity to design & help fashion Bill's website with access to many of his photos & writings. (He himself wrote "Bound by Honor". Rosalie also wrote a book, "Mafia Marriage" which was made into a decent movie. Rosalie's movie was special to me as at the end, showing the wedding of Joe III's marriage to my ex-sister-in-law, 2 young actresses portrayed the real-life one flower girl, my own daughter.)

Whoda thunk it in 1971 when I first read Gay Talese's book that 37 years later I'd stand beside him at the gravesite of Bill Bonanno? Whoda thunk that Al Paparelli's Italian stories earlier than that may have inspired my interest in the Mafia? Whoda thunk that I'd help celebrate the 50th wedding anniversary of the couple whose own wedding was emulated in The Godfather? Whoda thunk that a Polish girl from the Detroit area would become a close friend to such a notorious (but kind & honorable) family?

"Tis a small touch with fame in the grand scheme of things & really just because I got to know the Bonannos doesn't make me special. It sure has added some spice to my life though!