Talk about a trip down memory lane…
I was recently invited to attend one of Lindenhurst School District’s LEFT for Juniors field trips, “LEFT” standing for “Lindenhurst Environmental Field Trip.” This program, an outgrowth of the original (designed for high school Advanced Placement Biology students), is geared especially to the elementary school’s 4th graders. It was founded in the early 1980’s by one innovator, Mr. Lee Paseltiner, Lindenhurst High School teacher and adviser.
“This is the time to remember, ‘cause it will not last forever. These are the days to hold on to, ‘cause we won’t although we’ll want to.”
Poetry. Pure poetry.
Those lyrics, from Billy Joel’s poignant This Is The Time, played incessantly at my senior prom, having been designated as the “official prom song” for the Lindenhurst High School Class of 2000. It was ironic, even back then, that a bunch of 17 and 18-year-olds would select anything but the most modern, up-to-date hit to capture their little moment in time.
I’m beginning to think that neither I, nor anyone in my family, should ever entertain the thought of traveling farther than the corner store again - maybe not even that far.
On a recent road trip to Mifflinburg, Pennsylvania – just outside Lewisburg – to attend the high school graduation of a close family friend, we became victims of what can only be adequately described as “the trip from hell.”
I have reached the conclusion that no one in my family can ride the train and/or subway uneventfully. No matter where we’re going, how simple and direct the route, or what time of day or week we set out to travel, something always goes wrong.
Something.
Always.
Greetings, Ladies and Gentlemen! It’s time for another installment of your favorite mini-thriller: Driving On L.I. – Adventures in Transit. Just when you think you’ve seen it all, someone, somewhere, decides to go and do something so spectacularly dumb that you simply can’t believe your eyes.
My family and I recently made a trip to Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty. One train ride, 87 subway stops (give or take), one shuttle bus ride, an hour-long wait on a five-mile-long line in Battery Park, and one swaying ferry ride later – we arrived.
It was about 3 p.m. We had taken a 10:04 a.m. train.
I normally don't write profiles. I guess because, outside of the subject's immediate circle, there are relatively few whose stories are compelling enough to be worthy of the attention of the general public. With that qualifier, allow me to introduce: Albert Capraro, Lindenhurst High School Class of 1961, Bicentennial Designer of the Year for 1976, and personal designer of choice to none other than First Lady Betty Ford. I'd say his story has mass appeal, wouldn't you?
Let me begin by saying that I have been to several concerts at the Jones Beach Theatre – probably about three or four over the course of my concert-going life. As a rule, we try to make a point of arriving about a half-hour or so prior to show time. Of course, between the opening acts and the “fashionably late” arrival of most artists, if the show kicks off within an hour of the scheduled time, it's a rarity. Still, it pays to beat the rush. There's the security checkpoints, the climb to the nosebleeds, and the effort to find a halfway decent parking space to consider.
Ah yes...the parking space.
I recently attended the wedding of one of my brothers up in Washington, Vermont – Population: 1,057. Considering that the town's one general store sells assorted clothing with the slogan, “Where in the World is Washington, Vermont?” (or something to that effect), I wasn't quite sure what to expect on this, my first visit there.
I was fairly certain it wasn't going to be anything like the traditional weddings we've grown accustomed to here on Long Island. That hunch was confirmed when we received the invitation, requesting us to attend their outdoor ceremony on a hill, followed by a reception in a barn. Yes, that's right - a barn.
I recently took my first vacation in nearly a year, traveling up to beautiful Saratoga Springs with my parents for the annual Jazz Festival held at SPAC (Saratoga Performing Arts Center, for those unfamiliar).
I love music, to be sure, but jazz...not exactly at the top of my hit parade.
Have you ever noticed that any time there's some kind of family gathering, it generally takes the women present approximately three hours to say goodbye?
Seriously.