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The story of the World Famous OLA Class of 1969 from the beginning
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The story of the World Famous OLA Class of 1969 from the beginning
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And now, ladies and gentlemen, take a seat. The Fugitive. Starring David Johnson as Dr. Richard Kimball. The creepy and the coquette. The serious and the moquette. The Beatles. Ask not what your country can do for you. Face the final frontier. Paul Ustrinsky has tied it up in the ninth inning with a home run. A magical victory for the new capital L.C. by the Beatles. I have a dream today. And now folks did suck it to me tight. You remember simply as a good and decent man. You saw wrong and tried to right it. Look at that, I'm right at one. The sons of Bethlehem. Everybody dance. Get it together. My God. Hello, Mary Lou. Goodbye, my sweet Mary Lou. I'm so in love with you. I knew, Mary Lou. We never part. So hello, Mary Lou. Goodbye, heart. Hey, Mary Lou, do you hear this song? It has your name in it. Sure do. But you know what's even more of a coincidence, Frank? The year was 1961. 1961? I remember that year. That's the year it all began. As a matter of fact, it was September... September 6th, 1961. The Herald News said it was a warm, sunny and pleasant day. But all I remember is that I was scared. And a little apprehensive. I was terrified. Kindergarten had toys, nap time, games and half days. I didn't see any of these at Assumption. And who were those strange ladies dressed in black and white with ropes for a belt? Yes, it was something very different. And before our eyes, it turned into a wonderful, loving place where religion, learning and friends forever became a permanent part of us. I remember our first grade teachers, Mrs. Eileen Reed and Sister John Aloysius. Together, they started us out on an eight-year learning journey, which we will do our best to recall on this souvenir CD. As time went by, we met more of the Assumption staff, and during that first week, our principal, Mother Bernadette, stopped in to welcome us. Mother Bernadette is remembered by many as a kind, soft-spoken nun who occupied the office at the end of the hall, now just a walkway to the new addition. Sister Bernadette also taught eighth grade for many years at Assumption. For most of us, it was also our first year performing on stage as we were introduced to the annual Assumption Christmas plays. Mrs. Reed's class received loud applause after singing Getting to Know You, followed by a tea for two. On May 13, 1962, we received our third sacrament communion. The late Father William J. Hayes officiated and administered our very first communion. Father William was an important part of our school and church during our early years at Assumption and is fondly remembered by many of us. For some of us, grades one through four were located in the old church, which was converted into classrooms in 1959. Who could forget the upstairs hallway with its sharp incline towards the restrooms or the downstairs nurse's office with Mrs. Flora? Most of us attended our first mass in that 1926 church. And speaking of that building, Mary Lou, remember the bike rack behind it and that steep grade we came down just before the rack? It was great riding our bikes to school. We never used locks or chains back then because our bikes would always be there. Before we knew it, summer of 1962 came and went and we found ourselves back at the old playground ready for second grade. Mr. Moore and Mrs. Grace Clayton taught us proper penmanship and how to pronounce and spell bigger and bigger words. We were also introduced to the Baltimore Catechism book, a text that would appear year after year right up to eighth grade. As a holiday art project in November, both classes drew and colored Thanksgiving scenes that were proudly brought home and displayed. In December, Mr. Moore's Christmas play represented the Roaring Twenties as we sang, 5'2, Eyes of Blue, Has Anybody Seen My Gal? From 1961 to June 1965, the auditorium was a place we were spending more and more time in. It was first and foremost an auditorium for Christmas and talent shows, but it was also our movie house for those Friday flicks we paid a quarter to see, a gym to work out in, and our very first lunchroom. That's right, Frank, and it was here that we first tasted the unforgettable flavor of the Chuck Burger. To this day, its exact taste has never been duplicated. The Chuck Burger was usually served on Wednesdays, and for about 35 cents you received it, plus a handful of potato sticks, which were carefully inserted into the top of the bun, deep enough to reach the special sauce. This simple act gave the potato sticks a spicy flavor and added to the fun we had at lunch. The head cook and bottle washer at the old kitchen was a blondish-haired woman known as Mitzi. Her job was to keep us nutritionally healthy and happy. Whether it was hot dogs on Monday, shell macaroni on Thursday, or those square fish cakes on Friday, I can't ever remember having a bad meal. If you finished lunch early, you had enough time to play in the old playground. This place doubled as a parking lot and had two hilly entrances, one on First Street and one alongside the old green rectory on Second Street. The most vivid recollection of this playground has to be those three triangular-shaped trash incinerators always smoldering while we played. Mother Bernadette would ring a handbell at 12.35, signaling an end to lunch and a class-by-class procession into the building. This was also the morning routine, with the addition of our pledge to the flag, which hung just below her office window on the old wing. Report card time was also a little unconventional at Assumption. Our report cards were carefully reviewed one at a time by father in front of the class. Your name was called, you stood up, listened to praise or scorn, and promised to work harder next marking period. By the beginning of third grade, we were feeling pretty confident. We were not the new kids on the block anymore. Now they were underclassmen. They seemed so small to us back then, and yet the eighth graders were giant. Many times when bad weather kept us off the playground during lunch, we went to our classrooms early and were watched by selected eighth grade girls until our teachers arrived. With the grief we gave these girls, I doubt if any ever considered teaching as a career. Mrs. Marie Hipkins and Sister Anthony Clare taught third grade. My teacher, Mrs. Hipkins, often would take a moment to tell us about the adventures of Billy and Bobby, her grandchildren. How about you, Mary Lou? What do you remember most about Sister Anthony Clare? Well, she was a bit on the rough side. No, actually, she was very rough. If you didn't force your T's or got your I's, you received one hit with the wooden yardstick on your hand for each violation. As our reading skills improved, the library became a new place to check out. In the early years, the library was on the second floor of the old wing. It was manned by Mrs. Marquardt, who always seemed to have a cold. Although it was small, we always found a book to read. For those who wanted to buy books, who could forget the bookmobile? The bookmobile would visit Assumption every so often and park between the convent and the gym. Class by class, we'd hop inside and peruse the selections. The bookmobile had round skylights in its ceiling, and its movement made some of us queasy as it bounced while we walked through. The annual science fair took place each November. We were all required to participate. Achievement cards were issued to those who successfully researched, built, or demonstrated something of a scientific nature. Although never proven, most projects were helped along by mom and dad, and sometimes an older sibling's project was pulled from the attic, dusted, and presented as new. I remember one project brought in by former student Jimmy Mischewski. It was a demo of the human heart complete with a hand pump and filled with red-colored water. It leaked profusely over other projects on the table. Jimmy is one of a handful that left us before 1969. On November 22, 1963, we watched and shared the horror of the Kennedy tragedy. Almost immediately after the news, we all left class and went to church to pray for the president. It was for most of us the first time we saw and understood that the world is not so perfect and that bad things can happen. After a short service, we left for home early. More tragedy, both personal and social, would occur in our lives, but our strong Catholic upbringing and assumption helped us through those times. Each year around Christmastime, we would make some kind of craft item to sell with the hopes of raising funds. In December of 1963, we made decorative fish with oval soaps, fishnet, and buttons for eyes. Christmas and New Year's, along with the arrival of the Beatles in America, began to brighten our lives again. With eyes glued to the Ed Sullivan Show on Channel 2 on that cold February night, we waited for what seemed like an eternity. And then, it happened. Yesterday and today, our theater has been jammed with newspapers and hundreds of photographs from all over the nation. These veterans agree with me that the city never has witnessed the excitement stirred by these youngsters from Liverpool who call themselves the Beatles. Now, tonight, you're going to twice be entertained by them. Right now and again in the second half of our show. Ladies and gentlemen, the Beatles! The Beatles By the end of June 1964, third grade was now only a memory. Summer was here. For those who stayed in and around Woodridge, there was always endless exploring to do at neighboring Woodland Park with its mile-long dirt path to Fake Street. In Rutherford, there was shopping at Prehenster Woolworths, and the Rivoli Theater kept us entertained with current movies and Disney feature films. Nothing tasted better on a hot summer day than ice cream. On the boulevard, you had two choices, Pop's Luncheonette or Flag's Soda Fountain. Of course, good humor, Mr. Softy and Mr. Tuscan made frequent stops around town, but the best and most memorable times were those spent at nearby Palisades Amusement Park. If you close your eyes and listen real hard, you can still hear its beckoning call to come on over. From coast to coast, where a dime buys the most, Palisades Amusement Park swings all day and after dark. Ride the coaster, get cool in the waves, in the pool you'll have fun. So come on over. Boy, Mary Lou, that really brings back great memories of growing up in Woodridge in the 60s. You know, when you're a kid, everything appears larger. Even Woodridge, at only one square mile, was big to us. And those hills we climbed, most notably Union Avenue below Hackensack Street and Woodridge Avenue below 12th Street, seemed like mountains. If you had your bike, pedaling uphill was next to impossible, even with five speeds. Going downhill, however, was another story. One could easily reach speeds of 15 to 20 miles per hour, especially in the absence of cars or walls. In the winter, many of the town's hills became mobbed with sleds. On cold, icy days, with good packing, many records of distance were made and broken. Whenever we worked up a hunger or thirst during a busy day around town, many of us would head for Peyton's on Columbia and 4th. Peyton had all of the necessities, gumballs, Hershey bars, bazooka gum, and soda, to name a few. If you had a lot of items on the counter, including groceries for home, Mr. Peyton would take a pencil and do the addition on the side of the bag, amazing us with his speed and accuracy. Another place we remember was Al's Meat Market on Union and 4th. Although the variety was good, Al's had to be the slowest place in the world. When prescriptions were needed, there was Meyers Pharmacy or Davis Drug. Many of us remember amusing ourselves at both places by watching the mechanical jewelry display cases spinning around while we waited for our parents to finish. Ask any kid in Woodridge today where the best aromas are, and they'll send you to the same place we went, the back door at Mills Bakery. On warm days, the huge exhaust fan brought out the sweet smell of crumb buns and jelly donuts. On Sunday mornings after church, lines would be out the door, but nobody minded waiting for the best baked goods in New Jersey. Grocery shopping was pretty simple back then, too. IGA on Windsor and the Boulevard and Acme just down the block were open from morning until 9 p.m. And what happened if you needed milk at 11 p.m.? Well, you headed over to the milk machine between Dr. Gelman's and the Gulf Station on 4th. The most fun place to shop for us kids would have to have been Big Ben's Variety, then located in a small storefront in the middle of the block. With its big sign on top and red border on the bottom, it stood out against the others. It was the one-stop shopping for kids, having both school supplies and toys in one place. Since most of us had bikes, bicycle safety was important to the town fathers. So each year a bicycle safety program was held behind Mount Pleasant School, where stick-on reflectors along with placement instructions were given out jointly by the Marshals Association and the Police Department. The Fire Department made us smile every December as Santa would jump on a fire truck and drive right by our homes, throwing out candy to waiting hands. The Fire Department also was involved in newspaper collections, and many remember them driving through the streets on the old GMC rescue truck announcing the impending Sunday collection. If there was one thing we could count on seven days a week, 365 days a year, in any weather, it was the 7 o'clock whistle. The pulsonic force of this thing could easily be appreciated when standing right in front of the firehouse. Its carrying ability was incredible and woke many of us up from a sound sleep, especially in the summer when it sounded for a fire or ambulance call. After 47 years, it sounds the same today as it did back then. Hold your ears. During the holiday season throughout the 60s, downtown was aglow with Christmas lights strung across the boulevard from Pops to the Acme. A large creche became the focal point of American Legion Park, receiving the Christmas theme. Although Christmas trees could be bought anywhere, many were taken home from Knicks on the empty lot on Woodridge Avenue and 4th Street. During baseball season, baseball cards were real hot. They were traded more feverishly than the stock market and slipped in the school playground during lunch. Many boys in Woodridge fondly remember scoreboard duty at Little League Field and the placing of wooden numbers in the scoreboard slots. These are but a few of the wonderful memories of times gone by in a town where sunny days, love, rainbows, and a very special school paved the yellow brick road to adulthood. By 1964, most of us had one of those new transistor radios. And what station did we listen to? WPAT? No, that was Mom and Dad's station. We listened to the best there ever was, Music Radio 77 WADC. With its 50,000-watt signal from its Lodi, New Jersey tower, Herb Osranderson, Ron Lundy, Dan Ingram, and Cousin Goofy play the hits we grew up with and the jingles we will never forget. WADC, it's the replay! Wow! What a weekend! WPAT? No, that was Mom and Dad's station. We listened to the best there ever was, Music Radio 77 WADC. With its 50,000-watt signal from its Lodi, New Jersey tower, Herb Osranderson, Ron Lundy, Dan Ingram, and Cousin Goofy play the hits we grew up with and the jingles we will never forget. WADC, it's the replay! Wow! What a weekend! Music Radio 77 WADC. A, B, C, Ten, Go, Go, Go, Go, Go! Music Radio 77 WADC. WADC, the super hit sound of Music Radio 77 WADC. With a hot line of hits. Summer seemed like 60 hours, not 60 days, and we found ourselves back and ready to tackle fourth grade. Mrs. Adele Kopech and Miss Florence Nally were our next challenge. Or should I say, we were their next challenge. Fourth grade had some new changes. It was the first year we switched from pencils to pens, but not any pen. It had to be the Schaefer fountain pen, conveniently sold right at school. These pens required frequent cartridge changes and were sometimes messy. The boys learned early on not to wear them in their shirt pockets. Mrs. Kopech was new at teaching and it was her first year at Assumption. Her classroom was in the old church basement. Miss Nally, who'd been at Assumption for years, is best remembered as a strict and dedicated educator who always seemed to have great art projects for her students. This is also the first year we posed for a full class picture in the old eighth grade room. We still have and cherish this photo today. Our craft project for December was making artificial flowers out of formed copper wire dipped into clear acrylic and painted by hand. We made and sold a lot of those that year. The first school bazaar was held in May and Mrs. Kopech's class made spin art in a booth by the convent center. This was also Mother Bernadette's last year. Sister M. Joanne filled the void. Sister Joanne is remembered as a kind and wonderful person who deeply cared about us and our school. In addition to being principal, she taught mathematics and guided Assumption through the changing social times, keeping our school a safe and enjoyable place for many years thereafter. Our classes had been getting larger by the year and it was evident more room was needed. With many generous gifts and much hard work, the Assumption parish family a new addition was added. It boasted eight spacious classrooms, a new library, cafeteria, teacher's lounge, and a new principal's office with timed automatic bells and a two-way intercom system. Even the clocks would synchronize in unison at two minutes before each hour. For us, it was a whole new place to investigate. The new water fountains were chilled, which helped tame thirst on those hot exam days. It was state of the art. Out in front, between the new and old wing, a statue of Our Blessed Mary watches over and protects this wonderful complex to this day. They moved Mrs. Flora to the old servery where she occupied a new nurse's office and they built a large coat closet on the opposite side. This was also the area where dental exams were given by Dr. Young, a heavyset, gum-chewing dentist. We would go down class by class, sit in a chair, and the exam began. Mrs. Flora handed the doctor a mirror from the tub and he would call out a number. If you were lucky, a simple OK meant you were cavity free. Many of us still remember the awful taste and smell of the disinfectant used to clean the mirrors. Our time tests were also given here by the late Mrs. Flora. Ms. Jean Dunn and Ms. Patricia Flanagan greeted us that September in 1965, and we quickly acclimated to the new wing in the buffet-style cafeteria. Morning announcements on the new intercom replaced the old, sweet-smelling ditto sheets sent to each class. Sister Joanne welcomed us on the speaker and reminded us that she could now listen in on the classrooms when our teachers left that room momentarily. Wow, can she see us too? School supplies were moved to the cafeteria stairwell by North Avenue next to the ice cream freezer. Also, candy was sold in this area by the 8th grade girls. The all-time, undisputed favorite had to be the Fireball. A rather large confectionary to put in one's mouth, it was also the hottest, and few of us could withstand more than a minute before taking it out and heading to the fountain. Chewing gum was neither sold nor allowed. The penalty was to remove and wear the gum on the end of your nose. The ploy worked well. This was also the first time we saw SRA, Scholastic Research Associates, with a colorful square box usually kept on top of the ventilator. Inside this little box was a bunch of the shortest short stories one could find. We selected a four-page story card, read, then answered questions about it. Its purpose was to evaluate our short-term memory of the key points in the story. There were different colored cards for different reading levels. SRA is another in the long line of memories and assumptions. Speaking of memories, Mary Lou, do you remember Mr. Scavone, the gym teacher? He was a rather odd gentleman, short and balding and always reaping a cigar smoke. When it was time for gym class, we'd change and head to the gym to begin a set of exercises and marching on the old gray mats. Halfway through, Mr. Scavone would stop us for a break and walk up the right-hand stairs to the stage, go behind the curtain, and proceed to clear his sinuses. We tried hard not to laugh, but it was just too funny. Yes, Mr. Scavone was strange, but how about Miss Helen Stanley? Remember her? She sold encyclopedias for World Book. Her trademark was one of those telescopic pointers which she used throughout her presentations. She would have us research projects on things that only World Book seemed to cover. No matter what encyclopedia set you had at home, you always ended up at the public library and hopefully be so impressed with this publication, order a set from her. How she got into Assumption is beyond me. A quiet but hard worker was Tom, the janitor. Most of the time, he could be found with a broom in hand in the gym or cafeteria. Among the more undesirable tasks this man did was to clean up after a student took ill. He also seemed to enjoy frequent stops to the incinerator below the stage. Of the whole complex, this room was the scariest and reminded us of the other place we would end up if we turned out bad. The most mysterious place, though, had to be the convent. Few of us ever ventured beyond that side door. Even the small backyard was hidden behind a brown wooden fence. The only way to see in was to climb the white painted rock next to the fence in the parking lot and peer over. A small clothesline and a statue of St. Francis of Assisi were all that were visible. Among the most feared residents of the convent at the time would have to have been 7th grade nun Sister Clara, who used her rope of vows as a weapon against disobedience. In December 1965, both 5th grade Christmas plays borrowed from the classics. Miss Dunn's class portrayed Robin Hood taking from the rich and giving to the poor, while Miss Flanagan's class performed their version of Mary Poppins with all of its music and laughter. Many remember long practice sessions for this play. The assumption stage had pop-up footlights that, when lit, made it impossible to see out into the audience. A real blessing, since most of us had stage fright. This was also the first year we participated in girls' and boys' basketball, the games we usually played at the high school gym on Saturday mornings and were followed by socializing afterwards. The newly completed and enlarged playground at Assumption had the newest tubes in town and gave us plenty of practice time, an asset in winning the war against public school teams. Teachers were people, too, and they, like us, sometimes got sick. When this happened, it could mean only one thing. Mrs. Fulpiano. We never did much on those days, and a bit of chaos seemed ever-present, but Mrs. Fulpiano, with plan book open and chalk in hand, tried her best to fill the shoes. Gee, I wonder who that could be. Come in. It's Mrs. Fulpiano. Hi, everyone. Hope I'm not disturbing your recording session. This is really a surprise, but a good one. Not like some of the ones I encountered at Assumption. For instance, when Mrs. Flanagan was in the hospital and I had her class full-time, that was fine, but when it came closer to Christmas and every class was practicing for a play, Mrs. Flanagan sent me the script for Mary Poppins. That was bad news. But worse than that was the fact that I had to pick the two leads. I'm sure I made enemies, but 100 years from now, no one will ever know. Congratulations to the class of 69. Mrs. Fulpiano, by the way, is still an important part of Assumption and works at the friary to this very day. By the end of fifth grade, the sweet smell of freedom was just around the corner. Soon, no more pencils, no more books, no more teachers' dirty looks. Two and a half months of fun, and boy, we deserved it. But wait a minute. They want us to do what? Book reports? What are book reports? Winsor didn't have to. Doyle didn't have to. But we did, and we lived through it and are now smarter for it, or at least that's what they told us. It seems like I just finished the last book report, of which there were four, you know, and the summer was gone. Boy, time really does fly when you're in Catholic school. Mrs. Anderson and Mrs. Perella began the painstaking task of learning who is who, who is good, and who is, well, not so good. By sixth grade, these traits were well-defined and we knew then who would follow the path of right and wrong. More and more money was being spent by our parents to keep us here. The yearly book bill is now close to $25. Uniforms, supplies, book bags, and lunch had all increased since 1961, and with the new addition, something called school aid was added to the list. Yes, it was expensive to keep us here, but we were worth it. School uniforms changed drastically this year. No longer just white and navy blue, plaid now adorning the girls' dresses and a brighter, sharper blue for the boys. Even the old navy blue and white Assumption book bag took on a new look with a redesigned OLA logo. Yes, we were looking pretty groovy in 1966. About this time, we began to notice that we were being asked to perform a lot more chores than ever before. During the winter, we manned snow shovels and cleared the playground and the church steps. We carried library books every Monday back to their home. The boys carted trash baskets to the incinerator room, and I can't count how many times we carried those brown metal folding chairs between the auditorium and the church basement. Yes, a student's work is never done. There was another chore usually handled by the boys, blackboard eraser cleaning. Unlike the primitive method used by our ancestors, the 60s offered the latest gadgets, including our newly acquired electric eraser cleaner located in the closet next to Miss Nally's classroom. A loud and dusty beast of a machine, its whine echoed up and down the hall, signaling an end to another school day. Many of us girls remember delivering messages to and from teachers at the convent and the rectory. Our reward for this essential service was usually in the form of holy cards handed to us by the nuns. We also helped people outside the school. Each Halloween, for as far back as I can remember, those orange UNICEF boxes accompanied us on our rounds, and at the end of the night, we were brought to Edith Doyle School of the High School to be collected. Cartoons were shown all night at both schools. Brown shopping bags called rag bags were also filled in the hopes of helping those less fortunate. In the front right side of our classrooms, the canes filled with canned goods during food drives. Yes, we gave a lot to our school, but have reaped many rewards from its existence. The lessons taught by helping others became an invaluable tool, one that would lead us into a world that would reach out many more times for our help and guidance. As summer of 67 arrived, the rascals were grooving on a Sunday afternoon. The Beatles told us all you need is love, and Nancy, along with Frank, sang about something stupid. And while the Rolling Stones were saying goodbye to Ruby Tuesday, we said goodbye to 6th grade. It was time once again for fun in the sun. And as the countdown to 7th grade drew closer and closer, many of us who waited to the last minute scrambled frantically to finish those book reports, reading as many as two books in less than a week, astonishing anyone at home watching us. We knew that the start of 7th grade meant the beginning of a new era for us, an era of changing classes and sharing teachers. Miss Irene Millac and Sister Joanne taught English and math respectively, leaving Sister Coleman Francis with history and Annie, I mean Sister Ann Edwards, covering science. The old familiar handbell was pulled from retirement, dusted, and now used to signal a class change. It was hard to stay orderly in that hallway. With an average of 30 per class, there were over 100 of us trying to get from here to there. Remaining quiet was the rule, but seldom pertained. During fire drills, talking was strictly prohibited. When it rang, it meant a calm but fast single line out the door and a walk, in this case, down North Avenue almost to Hackensack Street. It was the job of the student crossing guard to go to the cafeteria utility room and reset the alarm, a huge responsibility indeed, especially if it was a real fire. Although the school had survived fire-free, the church was not so lucky. It was twice damaged by fire. It reminded us of its destructive power. There was much more student involvement in clubs and activities in 7th and 8th grade. The Civics Club generated intense interest in politics and politicians of the time. We were also electing our own class presidents, secretaries, and treasurers. It was fun and exciting and opened up a whole new avenue of healthy competition among the student body. Many of the boys became altar boys under the direction of Father Gerard and later lectors under Father Porteous. It was also a time for more activities outside the school. Social dancing for grades 7 and 8 was held at 7 p.m. on Tuesday nights in the high school all-purpose room. Mrs. Updike, our instructor, would drag in her phonograph and box of number 45 and demonstrate the proper steps of the fox trot with some unsuspecting male students. For those of us who participated, this is the song we remember dancing to the most. How can I be sure In a world that's constantly changing How can I be sure Where I stand with you Another outside activity was the book club which met Thursdays at 6 p.m. upstairs in the Woodridge Memorial Library. Of the many books that we read and talked about, To Serve with Love stands out in most of our minds. Made into a movie, its hit song reached number one on the charts. Those schoolgirl days Of telling tales and body mails are gone Our class rings were issued in 1968 and we wore them proudly. In addition to their symbolic meaning, we discovered that they could be used to reflect a bright blue dot anywhere in the room when held in direct sunlight, many times on the back of our teachers as they faced the blackboard. The summer of 68 was different somehow than those of the past. Eighth grade would be here shortly and with it, many decisions would have to be made. Were we continuing our education at Don Bosco or Bergen Tech, Immaculate or Woodridge? The choices were many and diverse, but ultimately only one would greet us in ninth grade. With all of this on our minds, we still found time to enjoy our last year together. Field trips, the assumption, were few and far between. Other than a pre-confirmation trip with other Catholic schools to a church in the Archdiocese, only a couple of other trips occurred. Few can forget the October 13, 1967, trip to New York, where the U.N. building and the Wax Museum of Famous People mixed learning with fun. For many of us, the Wax Museum was kind of an eerie place with figures that looked realistic and moved. We were impressed. It was tradition for the altar boys to travel yearly to Wright Beach, a gift from the parish and Fr. Girard. The boys also received a plaque with a prayer to an altar boy inscribed on the front. These were given out at the church after returning from the June 6, 1968, outing. Because of his youthful and easygoing attitude, Fr. Girard was especially liked by all of the Assumption students and his transfer to his next assignment was a loss felt by many. On October 25, 1968, we boarded buses and headed to the Hayden Planetarium and the Museum of Natural History. At the planetarium, we joined many other schools who were also enjoying the day off. As we sat in a big circular-type theater and gazed up into a man-made sky, the stars and constellations appeared before our eyes. But the June 2, 1969, trip to Wright, was the icing on the cake. With casual dress and money in our pockets, we set out on a full day of rides, swimming, food, and fun. While some played volleyball, others had a picnic under the shade trees in the park. Since this would be our last trip together, we made it a special one. Even our teachers seemed strangely giddy. Gee, we should have done this every year. Around this time, we were also looking at each other in a different light and casual flirting became a common occurrence. Rumors would abound throughout 8th grade about relationships, including one alleged to have taken place during one of our class trips. With rock and roll being the in thing, it was inevitable that musically-inclined students would somehow get together and form a band. And so it was for Mike, Tom, Al, and Donnie. With a guy named Stan as manager, a house on Madison Street to practice in, and Mike's brother, Anthony, helping out with the audio, the band made its debut performance in the Assumption Auditorium. With its reverberating acoustics, usually the auditorium's biggest flaw, the band's sound was actually enhanced and the performance was well received. Not much dancing occurred on that night, but who cared? We had lots of fun. In May of 1969, we spent a lot of time in church practicing our singing in preparation for the annual May crowning. Accompanied by Mrs. Custiglia on the organ, we did it over and over until we got it right. When the day came, we sang, O Mary, We Crown Thee with Roses Today. As Kathy Quirk proceeded to put a crown of flowers on the Blessed Virgin. With only one month before graduation, the pressure was on. We had already been measured for caps and gowns, and upon their arrival, dressed and headed for the photographer in the old library. One by one we smiled and captured the moment forever in time. Somehow we looked older to each other and ourselves. It must be the caps. Most of us knew by now where we would be in September and began to accept the fact that we would soon be going our separate ways. Meanwhile, Sister Coleman Francis and Sister Ann Edwards were busy delegating who would type and who would staple our graduation booklet. The graduation party was much too formal of an event to be held just anywhere. It had to be in a fancy place and an exciting town. The Waldorf in New York? Well, no, but George's in Munaki was the next best place, and it was affordable. So on May 23rd, with the boys looking sharp in their suits and the girls looking absolutely gorgeous in formal dresses, we piled into the car and headed east to Munaki to celebrate the biggest event in our lives so far. As we enjoyed our choice of dinner, the last will and testament of the class of 1969 was read and accepted as gospel. Additionally, the class prophecies were revealed for the first time. How strangely different our lives would be today if they'd all come true. We spent the night dancing, laughing, and reminiscing atop anything we did so far as a class together and ended with a special version of the song Both Sides Now. A night with full stomachs, aching feet, and a ton of happy memories that we hold close to our hearts to this very day. Before we knew it, graduation day was here, a milestone in our lives. With diplomas in hand on that warm, overcast day, we realized that we came to the end of our long journey together. And so it was with much apprehension, joy, and sorrow that we said goodbye to assumption and each other on June 15th, 1969. We knew things would never be the same and September would find us apart for the first time. Now we're eight years together, formed a bond that will never be broken. And although that first goodbye was hard, this one is strangely even more difficult. Always remember that it was us, the Assumption class of 1969 that did make a difference in this world. Our mark is forever. To that extent, we dedicate this June 1969 song as our song. It's about peace and good, love and brotherhood, the most important lessons we learned during our years together at Assumption. Whenever you hear it, close your eyes and remember us. Goodbye, Assumption class of 1969. May God bless and protect you forever. We wish you love. Look over yonder What do you see? The sun is rising Most definitely A new day is coming People are changing Ain't it beautiful? A new day is coming People are changing Ain't it beautiful? A new day is coming People are changing It's alright Just don't you give up now It's so easy to find Just look to yourself Open your mind guitar solo Crystal blue persuasion It's a new vibration Crystal blue persuasion Crystal blue persuasion Maybe tomorrow When he looks down On every green field Every town All of his children Every nation There'll be peace and hope For the whole world Crystal blue persuasion Yeah Crystal blue persuasion Ah-ah-ah-ah Crystal blue persuasion Ah-ah-ah-ah Crystal blue persuasion Ah-ah-ah-ah Crystal blue persuasion Ah-ah-ah-ah Crystal blue persuasion Ah-ah-ah-ah Crystal blue persuasion Ah-ah-ah-ah
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