The
Scratch Sheet, Volume 14
B. A Prose Poem from Steve Biondolillo, Girard
Class of ‘73
C. Dave Phillips Talks About His Life at Home
D. Joe Frigiola Reports on
E. Memorabilia
I hadn’t heard nor seen Donnie Johansen for nearly
forty years. Although we saw one another
often after graduation from Girard, the lives we set out to build for ourselves
took us in very different directions...
We got busy with the wrestling match that living is, and the ready and
steady contact dissolved into an assumption – for me and I guess for him too –
that he was okay, out there somewhere, and available somehow. As it was with Donnie, so it was with Mike
Messina and Bob Skrobiak. Guzzi
Gedraitis, the fourth of that quartet who knew all about me and liked me
anyway, was dead and gone, a still felt loss I know I share with others...
My guess is that many of us are in the process of
building the matching book end, or to use Donnie’s expression, “we’re closing
the parenthesis.” It’s like watching a
flock of pidgins making a landing. They
swoop up into this high arcing wheel and each finds his place, one beside the
next, until the entire flock is down and settled. The bits of information arrive, some from
introspection, some from reflection and memory, some from simply asking the
pertinent question, and some just by chance.
I find this time of life to be a time for taking stock, and included in
my vocation is the question of what was the life of the very good friend of my
youth. That bit of knowledge is
necessary for me to fashion the second book end.
I am reminded of the song by Simon and Garfunkel,
“Old Friends Book Ends”.
Those guys, those very dear friends we made at
Girard, were our book ends. They kept us
standing when it would have been very easy - and a mistake – to lie down. Without Mike Messina and his abundant
generosity, I don’t think I would have graduated from
After a bit of reflection on another occasion, I
came to realize that as Girard boys we confronted a unique developmental task,
at least unique to institutions like Girard.
As children we were fed, housed, taught, and protected. We were not cared for. I mean by that the deep emotional involvement
of an adult in our day to day lives was not available.
It would be of course very unfair to expect of the
housemasters or teachers at Girard to provide the depth and breadth of
nurturing that a good parent provides a child.
We learned, as children, to put those needs on hold. This skill is something not required of most
children in our society. We had to learn
it. This particular skill, I believe, is
one many that has bound us into a brotherhood. Our pain, our sorrow, our
sadness, our joy, our fear, our excitement, our loneliness, our confusion, that
entire muddle that defines our humanity we, in large measure, had to learn to
manage while short of available adult help.
Oh it was there, just more often than not, the help was not available
when we really could have used it. And
so, we made book ends. A friend is a friend
is a friend I suppose everywhere in the world, and I do believe that the
circumstances of growing up in Girard made friendship even more precious.
So what is it like to meet your book end after an
absence that approaches fifty years? He
is much rounder than I remember. Those
smart clothes that once engaged his chiseled frame have swelled in abundance to
encompass a noticeably larger area, and that chiseled frame has no more planes. The flowing mane that capped that youthful
virility has been disposed by something vaguely reminiscent of a queue ball
trying to disguise itself under a sheep shorn field of gray. And that weary, lined face that reflects the
long and arduous journey traveled takes a moment to recognize even though it is
kind of reminiscent of the one you see in the mirror. The eyes though, the eyes have not
changed. There remains that same kind
and caring regard that was there fifty years ago.
On meeting again after fifty years those precious
friends of my childhood, I found the same level of trust and intimacy, the same
willingness to share and listen, the same choice to be available and
supportive, the same commitment to friendship.
It was as though rather than fifty years, only a moment had passed, and
we were being the same loving pains in the asses we had had to be for one
another way back then. I remembered
those words engraved on that sun dial that stood off the main road near Banker
Hall – at least I think that’s where it was – in Latin “Time Flies – Love
Stays”.
B. A Prose Poem from Steve Biondolillo, Girard
Class of ‘73
Steve Biondolillo
graduated from the Hum in 1973. He
serves as Chairman of the Development Committee of the Hum’s Board of Managers,
responsible for the oversight of the Alumni’s fund raising committee. He is President of a marketing and
development consulting firm dedicated to helping non-profit organizations build
special event fundraising programs. The
following prose poem is reprinted from his volume of poetry entitled Macaroni
and Cheese Manifesto.
A
SINGLE WORD EMERGES
“I’m
not afraid to beat you up in front of your mother!”
With those words we
were forever snipped from our mother’s apron strings.
It was the first hour
of our first day at the large orphanage that we learned, eventually to call
“Hum” – “the Hum,” to be precise, as in quite ‘a home,” but a life-preserving
refuge from our mother’s dirty and degraded den.
It was orientation day
for newbies and we were careening under the giant round table, swatting at the
hems of the dozen or so flimsy skirts voluntarily surrendering their charges.
I’m not afraid to beat
you up in front of your mother? The
powerful, gravelly voice had stopped us cold.
We crawled out hesitantly, flinchingly, to face it – Mr. Wileman was a giant
bold of dark suit, all thick twitching shoulders and “go on and dare me” black
eyes.
Thus my younger brother
and were rescued from the chaos of our fatherless world and welcomed into the
squirearchy.
I was just 10 and
entering the 5th grade.
Think: up till now, you’ve never brushed your teeth, eaten even one
square meal or arrived anywhere on time . . . and today you’re in the Marine
Corps.
I have registered many
of the Hum’s usual first-year memories:
The seemingly endless recitation and singing of unfamiliar and
discomfiting prayers, bible verses, graces and hymns . . . and the enforced
silences of meals, work squads, study halls and bedtime;
The sting and confusion
of a sly rap – the hollering human ring and frantic effort to stem welling eyes
and strike back . . . and the shock and excitement of witnessing a wrestling
meet for the first time;
The overwhelming size
and openness of the physical plant – open-stall lavatories and shower chambers,
30-bed dorm rooms, four-acre playgrounds and museum-size buildings . . . and
the totally inscrutable eyes and expressions of hundreds upon hundreds of boys.
*
* *
Yet one memory stands out as a key to our collective
life and future:
Every day at
Her soothing voice swept over the classroom like a
sustained gentle rain on a desert. I,
for one, had never been read to, and it seemed almost too good to be true that
read to us daily, and about the perilous times of bold knights errant and
dangerous and deadly dragons.
Thirty year passed before I fully grasped – in one
crushing, humbling moment – the genius and generosity of Mrs. Knapp’s reading
of those particular stories to a group of wounded boys.
Yet, as I search my memory for a line from those
many absorbing hours, only a single word emerges.
You see, at year’s end our class performed a play
for the elementary school, based on our readings, which followed King Arthur’s
trajectory from his days a sweaty-but-hopeful squire to the point at which he
addresses, for the first time, the fully assembled Knights of the Round Table.
As fortune would have it, the part of Arthur – and
the lion’s share of lines – had fallen to me.
And which I recollect Merlin gravely pronouncing,
and the fun of on-stage swordplay, and the imcomprehensibility of one classmate
playing Guinevere and another the worm-like Lancelot, I can remember only this
one word.
I remember it because it was a showcase for my
“son-to-be-teased-away
I remember it because it was a tough word for a
10-year-old to recite without eliciting snickers;
I remember it because it seemed to be sum up the
play;
And I remember it – still hear it these many years
later – because it has carried and delivered the magical ring of meaning, and
the feeling, the finality of a full stop.
“Brotherhood.”
for
Mr. Joseph Wileman and Mrs. Charlotte Knapp, with gratitude
(2001)
In the 1960 Corinthian, Mr. Wileman is picture on
pages 5 & 10, Mrs. Knapp on p. 5.
Biondolillo’s Macaroni and Cheese Manifesto
can be purchased through www.booksurge .com.
Though only three of the pieces are directly about the Hum, one on
Stephen Girard, originally published in the Wall Street Journal, we feel
many of the other pieces will resonant as they described a common plight which
we shared with Steve in the loss of our fathers.
C. Dave Phillips Talks About His Life at Home
I am a bit reluctant to reveal too much more about
my home life out of the Hum, but can share a few thoughts. Let’s just say that going home to an
environment of alcohol, violence, and disorder wasn’t a “vacation.” I, too, had a big extended family around,
and I remember spending a lot of sleepovers at my cousin’s house. However, my memories of the Friday (and
Saturday) night fights are still with me.
I thought our house should have been sponsored by Gillette.
I, too, sent
for my Hum records and found them to be interesting for what was kept. There was a great deal of correspondence
between my mom and the visiting representatives, Victor Wilkes and Mildred
Hill. They indicate that my stepfather
was against sending me to the Hum initially, but finally relented. As I read the correspondence, it became clear that his motive was that he
would be losing money being sent by the government for my upkeep.
You know, Dennis Gries always reminds me that we
were all poor back then and that these reps took it to heart to admit POOR,
white, male orphans. I doubt that a lot
of us were going home to mansions, let alone to stable family situations.
As an aside,
when we visited with Matt Mills at his impressive home in
Probably what is most painful for me to write about
is how much I was spared by going to the
Hum. My half-siblings had to deal with
much more that I did, and their lives had radically different outcomes. My brother committed suicide as a young man,
and my two sisters are still dealing with huge issues.
In her older years, as she became more
communicative, my mom would often ask me if she had made the right choice by
sending me to Girard, and I always said “yes.”
She was so proud of me, and it was hard not to compare my accomplishments
to those of my sibs. For better or
worse, there is no doubt that the Hum environment shaped a huge part of who I
am and the decisions that I have made in my life. I doubt that my life could have been any fuller had I stayed at home and
been raised in that dysfunctional environment.
After graduation, I spent one year at home, failing
out of Wilkes. I spent the next three
years in the Army and then returned home for three years at college. I immediately left again to work in
As my life winds down and I look back on the past 50
years, I am grateful that I was sent to the Hum in 1951.
D. Joe Frigiola Reports on
Hi Folks:
We had a very
productive meeting at Rich Adams' house in
We reviewed a draft of
the questionnaire for our third survey (see copy attached). The
survey will commence on or about Dec 11. We are trying to secure commitments and
get an accurate head count of how many people will attend each event planned
for our Reunion Weekend. Your follow up calls in January will be most
important. A description of each event will also go out with the
questionnaires (see draft also attached). Send me any questions or suggestions
you might have related to these items as soon as you can.
Pete Shoemaker will
arrange a meeting with Autumn Adkins, along with Schiavo and
McKendrick, early next year to discuss our preferences/requests regarding
the Chapel Service on Founder's Day. These include music selection, the
Processional, projecting pictures of deceased classmates during the memorial,
giving diplomas to the guys who didn't graduate with us, assuring reserved
seats for family, and other items.
Mike Quinn
reported on several technical issues he is working out with the Hum
AV Dept, i.e. how Bill Evans will control the slide show he will narrate;
projecting pictures of the deceased during the memorial; adding captions to the
1960 GC film; things to capture in video recording of events for making the
follow up DVD (price of the DVD is estimated at $20); etc.
Selection of
Class Speaker: It was decided to call for nominations in the
next Scratch Sheet. (That will be in the
next issue.) Selection will be made at
the planning meeting following that announcement. We will also offer content
suggestions to the designated speaker after discussing and priortizing the
numerous purposes and audiences inherent in our
Sellection of
Class Gift: Will use a similar approach to the process
for Class Speaker. The ideas gathered so far (including requests to be
solicited from President Adkins) will be outlined in an up-coming Scratch
Sheet. Reactions and further input will be deliberated at a following meeting.
Financial
Assistance for
Fund Raising: Shoemaker confirmed the amount of money
collected so far is about $130k. Our goals remain $200k and 100% class
participation. He also stressed that the
last six months in fund raising is the critically important time period. Let's
give it our best shot!
Corinthian II: Editing, supplementing, formatting and
publishing the data we have, and will continue to gather, on our classmates is
a pretty big job! Rocco will distribute all the info we have on each classmate
to each classmate and ask each to write his own profile. A production committee
will do the necessary follow up. Any volunteers? Call Rocco (301)
229-0834.
Miscellaneous Topics: Invited guests for the Friday Dinner will
include the Adkins, the Schiavos, and the McKendricks. The administrative
budget still needs to be allocated to specific production projects, and
project teams need to be identifying their necessary expense items.
Once again we thank Rich
and Linda Adams for their generous hospitality. You really miss a good time if
you miss any of our meetings. There are only a handful remaining!
NEXT MEETING:
PLEASE BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR QUESTIONNAIRE #3,
COMING SHORTLY. WE NEED ALL CLASSMATES
TO RESPOND QUICKLY, SINCE WE GOING TO START TO MAKE FORMAL ARRANGEMENTS FOR
MAY, AND NEED TO KNOW WHO IS COMING FOR WHAT EVENTS.
Alberici, Frigiola, DiRomaldo,
E. Memorabilia
Below is the lay-out of the Hum as we knew it,
except the Mechanical School Playground had morphed into the “Coal Pile.” The photo of the Founder’s
