family – CDTalent Enterprises

50th Reunion in 3 weeks – Are Memories vs. Politics Possible? Fingers crossed

September 4, 2025October 1, 2025by gshorkeyblt2Leave a Comment

*Alex Chrys (L) raises Arabian show horses, Scott Grayman (M) is the epitome of reunion attendance, drove up from Jersey after sundown Saturday, and myself (R) in tuxedo* *at 40th*.

Having watched a lot of US Open this year, there were tearful moments like Chris Evert being lauded for her career, ’75 title was her first. I’d still put Vietnam being overrun the Spring of senior year at top of memorable list. I’m hoping to walk away from yakity-yak by true trumpies on 27th.

Okay, that last part will rile ‘regular’ readers, although its a sincere wish about not hearing anyone push ‘He saved the country!’ Fingers crossed that Scott Grayman somehow makes it up that Saturday 6:00-11:00 p.m. at The Terrace at Water’s Edge, 2 Freemans Bridge Rd., Glenville.

Not everyone will care about how reunions work out, whether you see certain people again, or ever. I’m a Writer (yeah, cap W is ego), I hope I catch the feeling of anticipation for you. Little long, no sense scrimping on verbiage at this point.

Happy, Satisfied, or Just Older?

*Certainly not a graduation picture, but yeah, gets me feeling old.*

Am I, or perhaps I should ask, “How many of us, are where we expected/wanted to get since Graduation Day in June, 1975?” Good for those who can say Yep! I have several (5 nephews, one niece) very smart next gen kids in extended family, but none of my own. If they’ve brought you joy/grandchildren, I’ll be glad to hear about it. I’ll open with a Rhodes scholar and a Major in US Army…

Many of you weren’t part of whomever Facebook decided should be on my regular feed for a long time. Kathy Lambert-Zandi and Belle W. often, haven’t seen Bob Houlihan in a while, Jim Dixon a lot, Chris Boehm, George Alper yeah, but I’ve been seriously remiss at doing squadouche about staying up with Scott, who was a best bud since we met in 1st grade at Howe School. Its been ten years since I heard anything, even from Allyson Towler-Grayman, that Best Girl from the ‘hood (and Class Venus), who married his brother.

(Ed. Note: Allyson sent note about not being helpful as I desired after post to Reunion site, and I indeed went back through Messenger stuff and found both phone and Scott’s e-mail – from 2019. Dumb guy me!)

Back in 1963, our folks were concerned which schools you would go to when buying a house – Howe was barely three blocks away. Brothers Steve and Mike went to St. Helens, but there wasn’t any room in that grade for me, being part of huge bulge in the population snake. I counted *36* in my 2nd /3rd grade pictures when I did get in, so with all respect due to teachers today, THAT was crowding a classroom!

I *always* walked to school, only a couple times in snow up to my knees ;-D, and however many school closings we heard on the radio in morning, Linton HS didn’t close if Mr. Amell could make it there.

Still a ‘Journalism guy,’ which I heard a lot at 25th and 40th? Wellll, lots of blogging, 1 3/4 books, and sports analysis (yeah, betting info with some meat besides over/under) pays bills, Medicare/caid situation hasn’t come to front as disaster on that (yet). Charlotte, NC seems an ideal place most of the time, lots of outdoor opportunities, still at 190 lbs., close to best rugby weight playing for Schenectady Reds in 1986. I’m within the plock! plock! sound of pickleball courts at Myers Park CC, though I have yet to play a stroke.

Still a tennis player, but you’ll have to buy me a drink if you want to hear my Liz Nealon story about playing #6 and sports banquet…

Reunions are for catching up, maybe holding our younger selves to account

Post-COVID I’ve made a couple trips here for Saratoga races, had three pretty successful blackjack sessions (+$1800) at Schenectady casino. Mom passed two years ago on reunion date (9/27), Dad at end of January ’13. My sympathies for everyone who has lost their parents or family members. Truthfully, the day folks left Schenectady for Tampa is still the most upsetting day of my life, besides burial.

I don’t know if I *ever* considered being 68, but their being essentially gone at 31 was traumatic, because no more stopping in and grabbing a piece of pie, or watching a game with Dad. I was surprised Mom didn’t fall apart at saying, ‘Yes, turn it off,’ at the end, but that’s what they’d decided long before. It was pure luck, making calls to guys while hustling back to hospital after a bad turn for Dad, and having them all arrive at same time for pick up, barely four hours later. Our family had opportunity to grieve together for a week, and my sympathies for so many people during COVID that didn’t get to say proper good-byes. Reunions aren’t close to that serious.

My mostly dark brown hair harbors only a few silver foxes, and except for a gold crown molar, flapper-tooth up front, and a terrific new left knee at end of 2017, I’m still original equipment Glenn. Bicycling and eating right has helped keep me fit, one pill in a.m. keeps BP right. Mike has another year on his five year, Star Trek-like journeys in 37′ RV with two beagles, Steve retired from bank a couple years ago, lives less than a mile away. Every time I mention his three boys academic achievements, people ask what happened to me (sigh).

David – Danny Smith called him ‘Little Shorkey’ in gym class hoops – has come to our last couple reunions, although he was ONLY part of first freshman class in ’75. He’ll gladly tell the story of how a bunch of us came back from college and tore up the football field the Sunday before Election Day game vs. Mont Pleasant, a tackle game because there was 3″ of wet snow on it. He says the gym teachers ranted about it – hey, we forgot season wasn’t over – but knew enough to keep his mouth shut about knowing who did it. Ahhhh, memories…ask Joe Genovesi.

Many will probably have more interesting stories. Alex Chrys and his Arabian horses, Patti Barbeau and her amazing strength in a personal situation, hopefully Bobby Massaroni’s heart is working well, and I still smile at how confused Dave was at 40th, when Karen Korniak- (?) used the word ‘partner’ about living situation in CA.

Still a GE sign, no Copper Keg (No Linton either)

Dad always said getting old beat the alternative, and I’ll go with that as Truth, so I’m glad to be at 50th (with most of you…) The house on Lakewood is still in good shape, the revival of Rose Garden we’d go to after church is terrific (certainly not paved over), and as I noted in recent blog about Central Park tennis courts down at end of street, a major tennis tournament (Schenectady OTB Open) with a sweet spot on international calendar, two weeks and a quiet distance upstate from the Open was cool. Our photographer Terry Casillo can tell you about Nitty Singh’s tremendous work on that.

Schenectady isn’t the ‘City that Lights and Hauls the World,’ hasn’t been for a while. *Lots* more like Springsteen’s ‘My Home Town.’

Collectively we’re not labelled The Greatest Generation, that was our folks, but (thankfully) not Gen Zers – I’m a BoomerwithAttitude in a pretty freaking scary time for all of us. I’ll leave it to each individual, here and across this country, to make their decision about this still being the America you grew up with, or want to laud for whatever reason. I’ll save my sports memories for the reunion, but Coach Catino would appreciate my having a lot better backhand (like, next to zero) than I did in 1975.

Still a journalism guy? Definitely more A-One than AI on communications, which I believe is my God-given strength. My main character (Marlena the Magnificent) has a belief in tarot reading as an asset, and a Universe that always smiles on her efforts in Life. I hope it does some smiling on whatever comes for us after this reunion.

Second book after Cards & Consequences is ‘With Platinum Fury Focus.’

POV - Content Creation, Thought Leadership

On Dad’s (sort of) birthday, thanks to Good Good Person Waldo Shorkey for my conversational ability, Good Character, 3 brothers

May 5, 2025May 12, 2025by gshorkeyblt2Leave a Comment

My Dad actually passed in late January, 2013, but watching the Daily Show episode where Jon Stewart eulogized his dog, 3-legged pound pet, Dipper, his line about ‘In a world of good boys, he was the BEST Good Boy,’ I felt the jolt- there’s a legitimate analogy for Dad. Especially when Stewart admits, with a catch in tone that’s obvious, “I thought I’d get further than this…” well, its taken all day to get this keyboarded.

$30 can get you a LOT of flowers. The feeling was always, ‘Thanks for taking care of my gal.’

Let’s start with playing racquetball, leaving house by 8:30 to play at court in Watervliet Arsenal, where he worked. Those mornings, just us, fun hitting, playing four-five games in an hour, checking his skills while playing shots back more in middle so he could make returns, so easy to enjoy.

As a child in mid-Thirties, Dad had polio, when polio killed a LOT of kids/people, or put them in iron lungs. Despite a smaller left leg, he served in Navy (’51-’55), but was never much of an athlete. Terrific bonding over decent physical effort, then using the Nautilus equipment at the building, and breakfast out someplace.

It was very pleasing to know he practiced extra at lunches to develop a *nasty* Z-serve as a lefty, getting it to drop just before hitting 3rd wall ( service fault), way down and dirty to my backhand. We beat a couple other father-son teams, he made shots when necessary. Super memory.

Putting together pool tables for $50. Dad’s P/T job (early ’70s) at Wards got him the ‘Assemble it yourself, or let our experts do it!’ gig, three sections of 3/4″ slate pool tables. During OPEC embargo, with gasoline prices through the roof, lots of people bought the home entertainment deals. We had so much business, older brother (Mike) worked with Dad’s buddy Sel as a second crew.

$20 for helper share usually meant $40 day, frequently two Sunday too, up to $80 was a GOLD MINE, great work conditions.

Dad always taught us how to use tools, but seeing his extra effort in making sure the plaster of Paris seams were absolutely right, ball returns all rolled smoothly, the felt was securely glued in the pockets, pride in workmanship was a consistent example to follow.

He’d send me to get the owner, let him know we were done, guy had often bought for teens and didn’t play, would tell Dad to go ahead, Dad *always* said, “Glenn’s our shooter.” First shot on 8-foot red table, never busted rack of gleaming balls, dropping a couple more, telling Dad there must be something wrong with that pocket if I missed. (Insert Tim Allen grunts) Always lunch, satisfaction with Quality of Doing, cash in pocket. ‘Measure twice, cut once’ – I’m smiling about brother who blew Dad’s best practices axiom while doing crown molding in his front room.

A feeling of Dad’s “Thanks for taking care of my gal,” was a Goodness on my mind every time, and I *know* Dad would have wanted pretty stuff for Mom’s caretakers too, so I always had a good second vase for nurses station.

Flowers for Mom’s caretakers at Carmel Hills, for her birthday, Mothers Day, or Easter. Dad was a great arranger for church displays in NY and FL, centerpieces since forever. I’ve told three brothers they can fight it out for Dad’s woodworking crown, I’ll aspire to his creative side, because he really had artistic talents. I’ve done well putting displays-projects together, so Mom (who passed in Sept. ’23) had flowers, and I bought plenty of supplies, because I *know* Dad would have wanted them to have pretty stuff too, so always a good second vase for nurses station.

When I visited folks in Tampa end of one February, to be there for Mom’s birthday (3/1), Dad and I were watching the US-Canada gold medal Olympic hockey game. For the only time I EVER recall him asking, when Mom said its time for dinner, Dad asked, “Is there any reason we couldn’t eat in here?” You could tell from Mom’s, “Because the FOOD is in here” response that her long-time philosophy on sitting down to eat and TV hadn’t changed over years or in retirement.

He sure wasn’t dying on that hill, and *without rushing* we only missed a couple minutes of next period. Historically, if the phone rang during dinner, Dad always said, “Let it ring, everyone we know knows dinner is 5-5:30. If its important, they’ll call back.”

Golfing on the nine hole, par three course inside the Watervliet Arsenal walls where he worked, early version. Only needed three clubs and shared a putter, we bought a couple on our own, 7s and 9s, maybe a five. Dad wasn’t a run or shoot athlete like us as maybe 10-12 year old guys, but he knew how to instruct three of us on grip and swing. We sprayed shots all over, cheered for lucky hits in the air.

We’d also go down to the Arsenal early on some Saturdays to pick through the top quality lumber, what lengths of steel to be machined into artillery, cannon, and tank gunnery had arrived in, which was the Arsenal’s business. Pinch bars and hammering out nails, turning crates and pads into safe pieces for transport and home projects, a life-long skill. The beam that became center to back porch – where it rested on the dashboard of Ford station wagon and red flag was hung a good three feet out rear window – is legendary. As a Hammer Guy, I’m a legend in my own mind.

That he signed consent form so I could play Pop Warner football was HUGE.

Coming down the driveway at 5:00

Dad came down the driveway within five minutes of 5:00 every day, a consistency I cherish above all else really. Its on first line of Thanks for Coming piece I produced and everyone got at folks 50th Anniversary in Tampa (2005). Whatever the score in basketball or street football game was, Dad was the ehhhh! buzzer. If you were behind, the game timing out could mean No Winner. Dad would give Mom a hug and kiss, then ‘Leave It to Beaver’ boys, wash up for dinner. Everyone talked around the table. The cook gets kissed.

*Have to admit, the body of thoughtful work I produced with ceramics was come by honestly, just like Dad’s chatty friendliness.*

He wasn’t sure how important whatever he might write in the leather journal I bought him could be, but on probably folks last trip through Europe, his super-positive sense of gratitude for the everyday events of life came through. There’s also a drawing of the red wagon Coca-Cola made for him! which he and a buddy loaded with ice and Cokes, servicing the Arsenal right across the street pretty well – kid was making $5/day during the Depression.

His sincere ‘…and that was great’ was as easily earned for meeting a young Belgian, who heard their English and talked with them, helped them about where and how to make sure about getting off at right station. Maybe just a lady whose pastries were excellent – because Dad had a sweet tooth – or when he and Mom visited an AFS exchange kids home in Switzerland, years after meeting as HS supporters in Schenectady, and were treated as close friends.

I’d never actually known it until a sister-in-law told me Dad really didn’t like vegetables (like beets), but he ate them because four boys needed a good example. Can I get an Amen for Dad’s on that?