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07/07/11 - NNHS Newsletter -
Gustav Mahler's 151st Birthday

“If I weren't the way I am, I shouldn't write my symphonies.”

- Gustav Mahler
7 July 1860 - 18 May 1911)

Dear Friends and Schoolmates,

   We celebrate this birthday together here every year. - Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen N:o 2: Ging heut' Morgen übers Feld - Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen N:o 3: Ich hab' ein glühend Messer - Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen N:o 4: Die zwei blauen Augen - Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen N:o 1: Wenn mein Schatz Hochzeit macht - Symphony No. 1 in D Major, Movement 1

BONUS #1 - - Mahler: Symphony No. 4: Movement 1 - Part 1 of 2, Leonard Bernstein conducting the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra

BONUS #2 - - Mahler: Symphony No. 4: Movement 1 - Part 2 of 2, Leonard Bernstein conducting the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra


Gustav Mahler (7 July 1860 – 18 May 1911) was a late-Romantic Austrian composer and one of the leading conductors of his generation. As a composer, he acted as a bridge between the 19th century Austro-German tradition and the modernism of the early 20th century. While in his lifetime his status as a conductor was established beyond question, his own music gained wide popularity only after periods of relative neglect which included a ban on its performance in much of Europe during the Nazi era. After 1945 the music was discovered and championed by a new generation of listeners; Mahler then became one of the most frequently performed and recorded of all composers, a position he has sustained into the 21st century...

A technical device much used by Mahler is that of "progressive tonality", which Deryck Cooke describes as "the procedure of resolving a symphonic conflict in a different key from that in which it was stated"[139], and which is often used "to symbolise the gradual ascendancy of a certain value by progress from one key to another over the whole course of a symphony".[142] This technique was also used by Mahler's Danish contemporary Carl Nielsen. Mahler first employed the device in an early song, Erinnerung ("Memory"), and thereafter used it freely in his symphonies. For example, the predominant key of the First Symphony is D major; at the beginning of the Finale, the "conflict" movement, the key switches to F minor, and only after a lengthy battle gets back to D, near the end. The Second Symphony begins in C minor and ends in E flat.[139] The movements of the Fifth Symphony progress successively from C-sharp minor to A minor, then D major, F major and finally to D major.[119] The Sixth Symphony, unusually for Mahler, begins and ends in the same key, A minor, signifying that in this case the conflict is unresolved.[143]


1.   Peggy Johnson Janke ('60) of OH - 07/06/11 - "Sign me up!":


I'm Peggy Sue Johnson Ritger Janke, Class of 1960. Please add me to your email newsletter list, the list of classmates, and anything else you got going on, short of my volunteering for something. I'm still in the boonies of Ohio, but will be moving back to VA when/if I can ever get my house sold.


   Welcome aboard, Peg! I added you to your class alumni page, and found you were already on the contact list for the Class of 1960 (let me know if you'd like your email addy published; otherwise we'll keep it private).  Now if you'll just send me your birthday, we can hassle you - oh, I mean celebrate with you - when it comes around.

   Volunteer?? Not to worry!        My daddy, the late Robert Buckley (John Marshall HS - '25) (19 Oct 1907 - 25 Apr 1960) taught me five things (well, obviously, he taught me more than five things, but let's not clutter my story with cold hard facts):

1. Appreciate the beauties of classical music. (He preferred playing his admirable classical record collection at full volume.)

2. Anything worth doing is worth doing right. (Perfectionism is its own justification and own reward.)

3. Never forget that the Holocaust was real. (He knew all too well; he was present at the liberation of at least one Nazi concentration camp.)

4. Avoid all associations with and investigations into Rosicrucians. (No explanation was ever offered for this one, but he was quite vehement on the subject.)

5. Always do your duty to the utmost, but never volunteer. (I think this was an Army thingie...)

   Of course, now that I think of it, I kinda-sorta volunteered to do what I'm doing here, but, ah, well, nevermind!


   Happy Birthday today to    Frank Blechman ('65) of Northern VA AND    Steve Silsby (Ferguson HS - '72) of NC!

    Happy Birthday this week to:

09 -  the late Adrienne Price Cox ('57) (deceased 08/20/06) AND    Eva Ellis Madagan ('61) of FL;

11 -   Bobby Maddy ('57) AND      Aretie Gallins Patterson ('59) of TN;

13 - James Stidham ('57)!

   Many Happy Returns, One and All!



Sunday, July 7, 1861

Charles Vallandigham, former member of the US House of Representatives from Ohio, was an ardent abolitionist. He had held conciliatory meetings with the likes of John Brown (before the Harper’s Ferry raid, naturally) and others. Even stronger than his desire to end slavery, though, was his desire to avoid war, and his wing of his party would become known as Peace Democrats. Today he went on a speaking tour of Ohio regiments serving in Northern Virginia. There was a decided lack of enthusiasm for his message: at one stop he was pelted with stones, rubbish and angry shouts.

Monday, July 7, 1862

George McClellan’s commander in chief was coming to pay a call at Harrison’s Landing today. The little dock on the James River was to be the scene of a very difficult conversation. Lincoln’s intent was to discuss McClellan’s failure to do his job (such as destroying Lee’s army and capturing the Confederate capital of Richmond) during the Seven Days campaign just concluded. McClellan, on the other hand, thought that he was doing such a fine job militarily that he could now extend to giving Lincoln political advice. One part of this counsel was to be that Union troops should do nothing to interfere with the practice of slavery.

Tuesday, July 7, 1863

There were skirmishes in such varied places as Harper’s Ferry, Downsville, and the aptly named Funkstown, Md. These were all related, in one way or another, to Robert E. Lee’s desperate attempt to get his battered but unbowed Army of Northern Virginia back to the territory of their name. Lincoln, although elated about the news of the fall of Vicksburg, did not quite seem to understand that although Lee was fleeing, Meade was not pursuing. He wrote to Halleck, “Now, if Gen. Meade can complete his work...the rebellion will be over.”

    From Aretie Gallins Patterson ('59) of TN - 07/06/11 - "Birthday":

Hi, Carol.

My birthday is July 11, 1941. I'm going to be 70! Can't believe it!

Anyway just wanted to confirm the date since the page said, "possibly."

I enjoy the site. One of these days I'll get around to sending some more of my stories.

Love ya!

Aretie Gallins Patterson

   AHA!  So Plaxo was telling the truth - WHOO-HOO! Thanks so much, Aretie! And you know what this means?  It means you're only 15 days older than       my sister, Eleanor Buckley Nowitzky ('59) of NC, and I'm having great difficulty believing that either of you is actually hitting that Magic Number; it just doesn't seem possible, somehow.  Of course, I still think of everyone as being about 18.....  

   We'll look forward to hearing more of your great stories; I've really missed hearing from you!

   For those of you just joining us, Aretie was not only my sister's friend and classmate, she was also my eleventh grade U.S. history teacher - and I still have to struggle to call her by her first name! ‹(•¿•)›

  From Domi O'Brien ('64) of NH - 07/06/11 - "Irish Blog-- stars (and stripes)":

Irish Blog

Stella, Étoile, Estrella, Stea … Réalta!

Posted: 20 Jun 2011 01:47 AM PDT

(le Róislín)

Sandwiched between Lá na Brataí (an American holiday celebrated on June 14th) and Lá na Saoirse (4 Iúil) might be a good time to talk about “réaltaí agus  riabha” (stars and stripes).  So we’ll take a sos (break) from the díochlaontaí for a while, and address, first, the “réalta” component.  The “riabha” will have to wait for another blog. 

An interesting aspect of the word “réalta” is that it is completely separate from both series of cognates for “star” in the Romance and Germanic languages.  Often words for things that our ancestors held in common (sun, moon, stars, horses, cows, mothers, fathers, etc.) are quite similar as you traverse the Indo-European panorama of languages.  So you may have recognized “stella” (Laidin, Iodáilis), “étoile” (Fraincis), “estrella” (Spáinnis), or “stea” (Rómáinis), in the title of this blog, but “réalta” clearly just “doesn’t belong.” 

How ‘bout the Germanic series: “stjerne” (Danmhairgis), “steorra” (SeanBhéarla), “ster” (Ollainis), and “stern” (Gearmáinis), mar shampla.  Again, a lot of internal consistency, but nothing resembling the Irish “réalta.” 

It’s not as though the word “star” is the only one that presents us with this quandary.  While the word for “sun” is also fairly consistent throughout the Indo-European languages (sol, sole, soleil, soare, haul, heol, solnce, and, most historically of all, suar in Sanskrit, etc.), Irish gives us “grian,” perhaps based on a word that means “heat.”  For “moon,” we bridge the gap a bit.  The most widely used Irish word, “gealach” (moon, lit. bright thing), is not tied into the Indo-European set, but there is a second Irish word, mostly reserved for literary usage, “luan,” which is tied in with “luna,” “lune,” etc.  Some of this linguistic uniqueness is due to Ireland being an island, with some natural isolation, but some of it is simply inexplicable, with origins lost in the mists of preliterate prehistory.  In certain other cases, though, Irish clearly shares its vocabulary with other Indo-European languages (capall, horse, cf. caballus, cheval, caballo, ceffyl, etc., and máthair, mother, cf. mater, mère, madre, and Sanskrit “matar-,” etc.).  Whenever this linguistic sharing occurs, it certainly makes vocabulary-building easier.  Where it exists in Irish, I’d say relish it.  Where it doesn’t, with words like “réalta” (or “grian” or “gealach,” etc.), it just makes the challenge of learning Irish all the more interesting, doesn’t it?     

Do we have any idea about the history of the word “réalta?”  There is at least one theory – that’s it’s a compound of very old forms of the words “rud” (thing) and “glan” (clean, bright, pure).  Seems plausible to me, though probably hard to prove. 

Getting back to “réalta” itself, the plural is “réaltaí.”  It’s a 4th declension noun, so (hurá!), the endings for possessive forms are the same as the singular and plural forms themselves.  It’s feminine, so to describe a star further, you could say:

an réalta bheag

an réalta mhór

an réalta gheal

an réalta thimpholach


To make the same phrases plural, you’d say:

na réaltaí beaga

na réaltaí móra

na réaltaí geala

na réaltaí timpholacha


All well and good, and quite predictable. 

To show possession:

méid na réalta, the size of the star

ainm na réalta, the name of the star

méid na réaltaí, the size of the stars

ainmneacha na réaltaí, the names of the stars

Some related words are:

réalteolaí, astronomer

réalteolaíocht, astronomy

réalta, star (in movies)

sár-réalta, super-star (celebrity)

réiltín, starlet, also, an asterisk

réaltbhreac, star-spangled (lit. star-specked, since the actual word for a “spangle” in Irish is “spaglainn”!)

réaltbhliain, sidereal year

réaltbhuíon, constellation

réaltfhisic, astrophysics.

One of my favorites is:

réaltóireacht, star-gazing, which also means “mental confusion” and “absent-mindedness.”

And so, would that last entry shed some new light on how to translate the intriguingly named “starry-gazy pie” into Irish?  It’s actually a Cornish specialty, as immortalized in at least one children’s book, The Mousehole Cat, but that’s no reason for it not to have an Irish name.  If “starry-gazy pie” sounds delightfully philosophical, it’s actually quite a down-to-earth phenomenon.  The “starry-gazy” aspect is caused by fish heads sticking up through the pie’s crust, as if they’re gazing at the sky.  So despite its celebrated iconic Cornishness (featured in Poldark, etc.), it also showed up in the New York Daily News’s series, “Yuck! Disgusting Things People Eat!” based on Neil Setchfield’s book of the same name (tagairt thíos

A quick search through all the dictionaries, online and hard-copy, that I have at my disposal fails to yield a name for this pie in Irish, or for that matter, even in Cornish.  So may I suggest, for Irish, *pióg réaltóireachta?  Part of me keeps wanting to specify the main ingredient, typically pilséir or scadáin, but I have to remind myself that the English name doesn’t specify the fish either, so, just “starry-gazy,” no details!  And may I inquire of any cainteoirí Cornaise on this list, if they know how to say “starry-gazy” pie in Cornish?  Just curious!   

As for “star-spangled,” to return to our flag theme, there is at least one other way that this concept has been expressed in Irish: gealréaltach (lit. brightly-starred).

Generally, when using either “réaltbhreac” or “gealréaltach,” the basic word for “flag” (bratach) is used.  The English phrase “star-spangled banner” feels extra poetic, substituting “banner” for “flag.”  In Irish however, the most specific word for a “banner,” is “meirge” (also a “standard” or “ensign”), but I don’t see any evidence of it in discussion of the American “Stars and Stripes,” or in fact, of the American national anthem.   

And finally, foláireamh homagraif.  There is another word in Irish, réalta, which is an adjective meaning “real” or “developed” (in photography, etc.).  This is based on the verb “réaladh” (to make clear or manifest, to develop).  No relation to réalta (star) – it’s just that the “–ta” ending of this adjective mimics the “–ta” ending of the noun.

Next up, “riabha,” and perhaps some other vexillogical vagaries.  SGF, ó Róislín.

Gluais: bratach, flag; brateolaíocht, vexillology; foláireamh, an alert; pilséar, pilchard; saoirse [SEER-shuh] freedom, independence; scadán, herring; timpholach, circumpolar

Nasc don tsraith sa New York Daily News:

   Thanks so much for this fascinating lesson, Domi! We strive to educate as well as amuse! I was also delighted to see the reference to Poldark (1975) one of my very favorite offerings from PBS.

  From Jay Styles ('68) of VA - 07/06/11 - "Lone Sentry":

"My reading of history convinces me that most bad government results from too much government."          

Thomas Jefferson



Your Freedom Wasn't & Still Isn't Free!


     AMEN! Thanks, Jay Sweetie!

Lone Sentry

       From My Husband, Paul Harty (Bardolph HS, IL - '61) of IL - 07/06/11 - "Number 70 - A Veteran's Story":

Those of you who work with veterans now might have opportunities to interact with our newest veterans. For those who don't, incidences like the following are both heart-warming and sad.

I like to think that the woman at the pay window could have been one of us visiting in the hospitals in VN or stateside.

This is forwarded with permission of the author Ken Kalish in the AFVN email group.

So, today was tiring. I left the farm at nine for the Minneapolis VA, just shy of 220 miles south of here. I walked into the clinic at exactly one, the prescribed sign-in for my 1:15 appointment. Of course, it is also 220 miles from the VA to the farm. I got back just as President Obama began his Afghanistan speech. Almost eight hours on the road.

I get paid mileage for traveling POV. To draw the pay, though, I have to get a travel chit from the appointment desk when my appointment is finished. Nice lady, pretty quick on the paperwork. A few minutes later I was at the authorization office. I pulled a number from the red doohickey, 77, and looked up to see which number was being served – 70. It shouldn’t take too long, right?

Wrong. 70 was still at the desk ten minutes later. I looked up to try to figure out what the hang-up was, and at first I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

70 was a twenty-something kid wearing a red USMC tee shirt, a pair of khaki shorts, and a black baseball cap with the letters USMC embroidered across the cap’s sizing strap. The part in his dark hair ran straight up from his collar. There was a black brace of some sort that began just below his right knee and crawled up his leg to disappear under the shorts. Nothing unusual there. Every other person at the VA wears some kind of prosthetic, right?

But something wasn’t right, so I looked back up at his cap. That part in his hair. It was almost an inch wide, exposing very new, very pink skin. He turned slightly to use his left hand to point out something for the clerk. He had to use his left hand. When he turned I could see his right hand was permanently curled into a loose, boney fist. His thin right arm was frozen against his ribs, locked in that awkward 45-degree angle every medic recognizes immediately as the protective pose of one who has a fracture. Those khaki shorts hitched up and snagged on the top of the brace revealing another pink scar, an angry, wide corkscrew running from his thigh to below the right knee.

I heard him say “no” to the clerk, that single syllable reminiscent of the nasal speech of a cleft-palate student I once tutored. The right side of his face smiled at her as he tried one more time to explain why his mailing address was no longer the long-term VA dorm.

He turned to the dozen of us waiting outside the door to say, “Thorry,” then went back to the task of finishing his paperwork. I mumbled something inane like “No sweat,” and one or two others mumbled something. The tab machine recycled beyond 00 and was patiently waiting for someone to take 06. Just like when we were back in uniform, there’s always a degree of grumbling when a line of crotchety disabled vets has to wait for something so simple as getting a piece of paper. Not this time, though. Not a whisper.

It is going to take a lot of surgery to finish the reconstruction of the left side of his face. A flap of skin has been sewn over his empty left eye socket. There’s a crater where the left corner of his jaw used to be. His nose looks like someone tried to smear it sideways with a hot iron.

The office supervisor finally realized what kind of logjam was being created in the hall, so she fired up four more stations. It was the station next to 70 that called my number. I zipped through my paperwork and got mine just as 70 got his. It had been twenty minutes for him, maybe two for me. 70 leaned to his left to jerk his right leg around so he could head for the door and make it to the pay window.

“Thorry,” he said again.

“No,” I said, “there’s nothing to be sorry about. Thanks.”

I softly patted his left shoulder; not knowing what kind of painful horror might be hidden under that red shirt, and waited for him to go ahead of me into the hall. The next guy in line was a fat wheelchair driver who, according to his cap, was a Korea vet. He huffed and grunted as he backed his extra-wide chair into the line at the door, pushing the others back so the kid could get by unhindered.

“78,” one of the clerks called out.

“Hold yer horses,” hollered the fat guy.

70 and I walked the fifty feet or so to the pay window where four others were lined up to take care of their pharmacy co-pays. Two windows were open, one served by a fiftyish balding guy and the other by a beautiful young brunette. The guy who would be next at the woman’s window was a tiny octogenarian wearing a WW II vet cap, and he watched 70 come down the hall. When she asked for the old guy’s paperwork he pretended to fumble with his wallet, and then waved 70 to the window.

The right side of 70’s face smiled brightly at the woman. “You’re gorgeous,” 70 exclaimed. The words were mauled by his injured mouth, but she understood.

“So are you,” she said, not missing a beat as she took his paperwork and examined his ID card. “And you look better now than you look in this picture.”

He laughed. She counted out the bills and change for him, he said “Thanks,” and then he walked jerkily away.

He laughed. He thanked people. He apologized. It was his outside they had destroyed with that IED, not his spirit.

There is a moment the people in live theater call “the holy moment,” that brief pause between the end of a great performance and the beginning of an audience’s applause. There was a holy moment as we watched him move down the hall in search of his ride home.

We didn’t applaud or try to shake his withered right hand. I think I was the only person to actually speak to him or touch him, but as he walked past those of us still in line almost every one of us looked directly into his destroyed face, nodded a silent greeting, and smiled – and the right side of his face smiled back at every one of us.

    Thanks so much, Dools!

      From My Niece, Shari, of VA - 07/05/11 - "Very Touching ... & More":


A collector of rare books ran into an acquaintance who told him he had just thrown away an old Bible that he found in a dusty, old box. He happened to mention that Guten-somebody-or-other had printed it.

"Not Gutenberg?" gasped the collector.

"Yes, that was it!"

"You idiot! You've thrown away one of the first books ever printed. A copy recently sold at auction for half a million dollars!"

"Oh, I don't think this book would have been worth anything close to that much," replied the man. "It was scribbled all over in the margins by some clown named Martin Luther."


The summer after college graduation, I was living at home, fishing in the daytime, spending nights with my friends-generally just hanging out. One afternoon my grandfather, who never went to college, stopped by.

Concerned with how I was spending my time, he asked about my future plans. I told him I was in no hurry to tie myself down to a career.

"Well," he replied, "you better start thinking about it. You'll be thirty before you know it."

"But I'm closer to twenty than to thirty," I protested. "I won't be thirty for eight more years."

"I see," he said, smiling. "And when will you be twenty again?"


Q: What do you call a haunted wigwam?

A: A creepy tee-pee.


Remembrance Day

Remembrance Day was coming up, and the nursery school teacher took the opportunity to tell her class about patriotism.

"We live in a great country," she said. "One of the things we should be happy is that, in this country, we are all free."

One little boy came walking up to her from the back of the room. He stood with his hands on his hips and said "I'm not free!"

Taken aback by the boy's positive attitude, she said, "well, at your age I will admit that you are not allowed to do anything you want, but what I meant is that your family can do anything that is legal. Now, do you understand that you are free?"

"No -- I'm NOT free," he said looking up defiantly, "I'm four!"


Random Fact:

Kentucky Fired Chicken's famous advertising slogan "finger lickin' good" was translated in Chinese as "eat your fingers off."



"Dreams are the seedlings of reality."

~ James Allen


Brain Scrambler

I may run rings around you
Or escape your clutching grip
Or leave a treacherous trail
That gives a sudden slip.
(If you're not careful!)

You always end up winning,
While I shrink with each new meet:
Our bouts will be my ruin,
But you'll come out smelling sweet.

What am I?







A bar of soap.


A Young Spirit

It was my daughter’s 21st birthday. Dinner was finished and cake and ice cream were about to be served. As I looked out on my three grown children I was amazed at how quickly the years had gone by. My youngest was now 18 years old. My daughter was a college graduate. My oldest boy was 23 and getting older every minute. Just thinking about it I could feel my hair getting thinner and grayer and my wrinkles getting deeper.

I dragged my aching, aging body into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. Yes, the hair was thin and gray. The face and forehead were wrinkled a bit. The few extra pounds of middle-age were showing in places. Then I gazed into the eyes staring back at me from the mirror and I saw him: a young spirit shining out of them from deep within me. He was the spirit that still delighted in the twinkling lights of the fireflies every Summer. He was the spirit that still soared along with the birds in the morning sky. He was the spirit that still thought the laughter of a child was the most beautiful music in the world. He was the spirit that had always known that bodies are temporary but that life is eternal. He was the spirit that had always tried to keep one foot in the wonder of childhood and one foot in the love of Heaven.

I smiled back at that shining spirit and took my youthful soul back out to the kitchen table to join my forever young children in some red velvet cake and vanilla ice cream. I thanked God too for reminding me that I will always be young no matter how old I get.

Always remember who you really are. You are a beautiful, shining, loving soul. You are blessed by Heaven and loved by God. You are both eternal and forever young. You can never grow old unless you let yourself. May all your days be blessed with youth, laughter, and joy then. May all your years be full of loving God, yourself, and others.

~ Joseph J. Mazzella ~

You can get Joseph Mazzella's book, "WALKING THE PATH OF LOVE," at

[ by: Joseph J. Mazzella Copyright © 2011 ( -- {used with permission} ]
   Thank you very much, Shari!

    From Joan Lauterbach Krause ('60) of VA - 07/06/11 - "Noah's Ark":

Check out this page!

   SUCH FUN! Thanks, Joan!

From - 07/06/11:

The photographer for a national magazine was assigned to get photos of a great forest fire. Smoke at the scene was too thick to get any good shots, so he frantically called his home office to hire a plane.

"It will be waiting for you at the airport!" he was assured by his editor.

As soon as he got to the small, rural airport, sure enough, a plane was warming up near the runway. He jumped in with his equipment and yelled, "Let's go! Let's go!"

The pilot swung the plane into the wind and soon they were in the air. "Fly over the north side of the fire," said the photographer, "and make three or four low level passes."

"Why?" asked the pilot.

"Because I'm going to take pictures! I'm a photographer, and photographers take pictures!" said the photographer with great exasperation.

After a long pause the pilot said, "You mean you're not the instructor?"

1. Saturday, July 9, 2011 (6:30 PM to 11:30 PM) - The Class of 1971 will hold its 40-Year Reunion at Newport News Marriott at City Center, 740 Town Center Drive, Newport News. For details, contact Richard Rawls at - CLASS OF 1971

2. Thursday, August 4, 2011 - The NNHS Class of 1955 holds Lunch Bunch gatherings on the first Thursday of every month at Steve & John's Steak House on Jefferson Avenue just above Denbigh Boulevard in Newport News at 11:00 AM. The luncheon is not limited to just the Class of '55; if you have friends in that year, go visit with them.

3. Wednesday, August 10, 2011 - The NNHS Class of June 1942 meets at noon on the second Wednesday of every other month for a Dutch treat lunch at the James River Country Club, 1500 Country Club Road. PLEASE JOIN THEM. Give or take a few years makes no difference. Good conversation, food and atmosphere. For details, call Jennings Bryan at 803-7701 for reservations.

4. Friday and Saturday, August 19 and 20, 2011 - The Class of 1966 will hold its 45-Year Reunion at RJ's Restaurant and Pun AND the Warwick Yacht Club, Newport News.  DETAILS:; CONTACT: Dee Hodges Bartram at - OPEN REUNION!

5. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, August 26, 27, and 28, 2011 - The Class of 1961 will hold its 50-Year Reunion. - For details, see: and contact Gary Fitzgerald at or 757-879-2847 - CLASS OF 1961

6. Saturday, September 17, 2011 - Evelyn's Birthday Party for Everyone - Canepa Cottage, Buckroe Beach - 2:00 PM. For details, contact Evelyn Fryer Fish ('58) of TX at - OPEN TO EVERYBODY!

7. Wednesday and Thursday, October 19 and 20, 2011 - The Class of 1956 will hold its 55-Year Reunion. Be on the lookout for "snail mail" in early May. - CLASS OF 1956

PRAYER ROLL: - updated 05/05/11

BLOG: - updated 03/13/11

Y'all take care of each other!  TYPHOONS FOREVER!  We'll Always Have Buckroe!

                                 Love to all, Carol





Carol Buckley Harty
7020 Lure Court
Fayetteville, NC 28311-9309



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Symphony No. 4, Movement 1

Composed by Gustav Mahler (07 July 1860 - 18 May 1911), 1888

Midi of Mahler's Symphony No. 4, Movement 1 (unknown sequencer) courtesy
of - 07/07/11

First Image of Gustav Mahler courtesy of - 07/07/06

Second Image of Gustav Mahler courtesy of - 07/07/06

Red and Blue Diamond Divider Line clip art courtesy of - 07/05/07

Animated "NEW" clip art courtesy of - 03/07/06

John Marshall High School's Justice Scale clip art courtesy of Cheryl White Wilson (JMHS - '64) of VA - 10/13/05 (replaced 02/23/09)
Thanks, Cheryl!

Animated Army Flag clip art courtesy of - 06/18/03

Animated Tiny Birthday Cake clip art courtesy of Sarah Puckett Kressaty ('65) of VA - 08/31/05
Thanks, Sarah Sugah!

Navy Seal clip art courtesy of - 05/29/06

Ferguson High School's Anchor clip art courtesy of Steve Silsby (FHS - '72) of NC - 12/14/05
Thanks, Steve!

Marine Corps Seal clip art courtesy of the late Herbert Hice of MI - one of my Famous Marines who served in the South Pacific during WWII.
Thanks again, Herbie!

Kilroy Face courtesy of 5kidz2many of MO - 01/24/10
Thanks, Rhonda!

Animated BOO-HOO courtesy of Glenn Dye ('60) of TX - 08/28/09
Thanks, Glenn!

Back to NNHS Newsletters - 2011

Return to NNHS Class of 1965