Binderama60for60

I’ll start with my big brother Mike. He is lit but not fly. He’s actually not lit either. He’s not dope or phat. He’s Mike. The most honest and empathic (and accredited) person I’ve ever known. I learned a lot from Mike as we grew up, much of it framed as cautionary tales. Whatever Mike did, I likely did the opposite. And yet, now that we’re six decades on, Mike and I are closer than ever. Proud to call him my big brother. You’ll learn more about Mike’s weird wonderful weirdness throughout 60|60.

Mary came into my life right when I needed her most, though it took me five years to realize it. If not for her, I probably wouldn’t be here today. We married late in life after a long courtship and have been charting an exciting, unique and culinary adventure ever since. Bowzer joined the us a few months ago. He’s ignited a whole new pace in our life, more exercise, exploring, socializing and vacuuming. This pup is way smart, smarter than us, but we kick his ass at Jeopardy.

I revered my late brother Tim for so many reasons. For our family, he was a fierce protector. To me, despite our 11-year age gap, he was an ally and a champion who shared with me his love humor and comedy, and inspired me with his skills as a writer and illustrator. He passed away quite suddenly just over 10 years ago. He’ll be a big topic in this series.

Mom. Maw. Moomaw. Margery. Marge. Margie. Before she passed in 2020, I made certain to share with her all that she meant to me. She meant the world, and I still interpret the world through her eyes. As I’ve begun writing a number of installments for 60|60, Mom figures into a lot of them. I guess I’m a Momma’s boy. Word.

Dad. Pop. Blood. Jazzbo. Jimbo. From a hard-scrabble childhood during the Depression to journalist and author, a fine husband, father and grandfather. At the time he passed, we were playing a bit of the father-son rivalry dance, but the last thing I said to him was, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Pop. Love you.”

All the parents have moved on and some of our generation are already gone too early. As our Family has gotten smaller, I’ve become much closer with cousins Beth and Jaine (of the Lawler Family). In fact, during the pandemic, Mary I purchased my Family’s summer home on Lake Michigan that abuts their properties in order to stay close with what family remains. We’re hoping for a new generation to blossom there.

Cousin Kathi Hergott is an inspiration. She spent 10 years busting her butt to become a certified nurse practitioner while starting a family and living in an RV to serve as a traveling nurse. She was in the belly during the pandemic, caring for patients in the ICU, the kind of stuff I couldn’t bear to watch on TV. She is sweet and whip-smart, with a head full of steam, like her Mom.

Mary and I were just friends when I met Mary’s Family. <cue something jaunty> They’re the kind of clan you meet all at once, a dozen of them converging on a barbecue or graduation. They seemed so normal, like a TV family from the 60s. Smart, gregarious, good looking and well-lit. At first, they stirred up a bit of my adolescent angst: My own family is awkward and everyone else’s is normal. In this case, I think I was right. They are. Or are they? <eerie music sting> We’ll see as we push forward with 60|60.

Growing Up

Teachers have my respect, admiration and thanks. My Mom taught high school Spanish and Latin for 30 years, and I know how much she cared for and toiled in the role. For those who remember Louise Archer Elementary, I’ll give shoutouts to Mrs. Wish and Mr. Neff; Mrs. Williams, who observed one day in the mid-70s that the world was at peace — without a war — for the first time in forever; Mrs. Denny, my second-grade teacher who made up for my scary first-grade teacher; Mrs. Cherry, who told me I could be a writer; Senor Tilman, my Spanish teacher at Thoreau Junior High for making the two worst years of my schooling less sucky; and Mr. Dallas, who had killer handwriting that I totally poached, and I always think of him when I spell desert or dessert (“one S as in sand, two as in strawberry shortcake).

Theirs what not a passive role in my life. I was fortunate that they understood me, encouraged me, challenged me and sometimes amazed me with the most esoteric but vital stuff. E.g., Mr. Neff explaining what the number one trillion looked like when the national deficit breached it.

I had a lot of friends at Louise Archer Elementary, as well as from playing soccer. Glenn Blackwell, Steve Potter and Adrian Ball come to mind. Our neighborhood was like The Lord of the Flies though: one day you were friends, the next you were estranged, then it might come to blows, and then you’re friends again. Middle school was no better. One reason was that I was on the gifted track, so that I saw the same 20 kids in every period, except for an elective and P.E., when we were deposited into the gym like lambs to slaughter. David Mallory was a smart, creative spirit, while Pat McCloskey was a funny kid and soccer player; they both moved on to a different high school and poof. Gone.

Growing up in the D.C. suburbs I fell in with a lot of transients: so-called Army brats whose parents were also CIA, State Department, political appointees, et al. They’d be there for a few years and disappear over a summer break. Thanks to Facebook, I reconnected with Jeffrey Smith years ago but I haven’t actually seen him in 50 years. I recently reconnected with Dino Ewing, who was a close friend until the fourth grade and then poof, gone. He materialized a few years later sitting one desk over in AP History, like something out of a soap opera amnesia twist . The fates of Jeff Longbottom, Michael Sharpe, Brian Burgoon and a few others still elude me. All good kids during my formative years.

By senior year in high school I had matriculated from earl of the nerds to one of the wannabe brat packers in checkered Vans. It was a clique-ish time the 80s. Even so, I was not on the invite list for any weekend parties, like, never. Thank God there weren’t social apps or FOMO back then; I would have been an even more insecure, acne-splattered basket case.

I hung with the thespians like Mary-Margaret Coyne and Jonathan Grey. Because I was editor of the newspaper and was kicked out of yearbook for insubordination, I could partake of all four lunch periods and often did. There I fell in with the likes of Chris Castle and Steve Sobieski, and later, Jimmy Brough and Bill Samson, all of whom I have remained distantly connected.

My first real job was at a movie theater — Roth’s Tysons Corner 5 — affording me a more viable venue and time to build relationships. Theater people are different, even if we’re just ripping tickets and slinging sodas. The Summer of ’81 is a topic I’ve explored in 60|60, and suffice it to say: a drivers license and the presence of females and contraband on the daily made an impact.

Scott Steele was a high school thespian and an eccentric. Somehow every one of John Hughes’s movies has a Scott in it. In college he gave me my first cigarette, and he was so cool, I smoked it. You’ll hear more about Scott in the Summer of ’84 episode.

A kid named Evan Scout managed the crew of The Galaxi roller coaster at Kings Dominion. He was 18 and the most enthusiastic, loyal and enterprising manager I ever worked for. I crashed at his Dad’s single-wide in Caroline County, usually after a holy-shit kegger in a backwoods clearing on an amazing 80s night. I know Evan stayed in the area but we’ve not connected in decades. Good people, Evan.

Paul Stubbs was a med student and Scooby Doo to my Captain Caveman at Kings Dominion. He was about the chillest cat I’ve ever met, so valuable to me when I was still an insecure, snot-nose teenager. Never saw him again. I believe he followed his dream to become a dentist in Virginia.

College

I joined JMU’s chapter of the Kappa Sigma Fraternity in my first semester. Given that my ability to break the ice, assimilate and bond were still unformed (and are to this day), it seemed good to have a ready set of preppy playmates at the time. In doing so, I gained much from the elders like Don Parr, Jeff Hollis, Doug Huston, John Ryan the late John Noftsinger and others. Lessons in governance, leadership, loyalty and some NSFW experience that supercharged my social arc at an important time. Bonus: I can recite the Greek alphabet three times on a single match.

In Kappa Sig, I forged bonds that have endured: Dave Mauroff and Brian Johnson in NorCal, Bob Gusella, Doug Huber, John McCullen (The Bilello Boys), Dan Harvey, and others, plus little sisters (aka, Stardusters) like the Renick Twins, Tracy Toth, Elaine Hinsdale, Jennifer David, and other lovely ladies. You’ll meet a few others as 60|60 rolls on, but I’ll need to review some NDAs I signed back then, and maybe confirm a few “fuzzy” recollections.

Mike Goldenberg is my closest friend from those days and probably in general. You’ll meet up with G-berg a lot as we navigate 60|60, dating back to freshman year in college and meandering through 40 years of friendship and frolicking, and foolishness.