The Sad News About Dan Weston

While we were at Emerson, Dan’s dad was a dentist. Somehow Dan got hold of a medical catalog and ordered all sorts of exotic condoms. They weren’t for Dan nor me. Dan got a display case and sold them to fellow students!

It’s easier to find people with unusual names than common ones. If your name is Geoff Fox and Geoff is spelled with a “G” how tough can it be?

On the other hand it’s been tough to find my freshman college roommate, Dan Weston. There are too many Dan Weston’s (including that guy on TV for the Scooter Store). When last we spoke Dan was working for the PBS station in Hershey, PA. That was at least 30 years ago.

When I stumble across people I knew from college I ask about Dan. I just don’t stumble into that many people… and having been on the accelerated dismissal program at Emerson College that’s understandable.

“On a sadder note, I’m sorry to tell you, Dan passed away a few years ago. He was an engineer at KTLA TV here. I hadn’t seen him for a long time and only saw the notice in the Alumni magazine. He had some kind of cancer, I’m not sure. He was a sweet man.”

That came from Paul Greengross in Los Angeles who I ran into on Facebook. No one wants to get this news.

While we were at Emerson, Dan’s dad was a dentist. Somehow Dan got hold of a medical catalog and ordered all sorts of exotic condoms. They weren’t for Dan nor me. Dan got a display case and sold them to fellow students!

I wish I would have found him sooner–obviously.

Where Are They Today?

I have heard from lots of people because of this Internet thing. Though some voices from my past have said hello, there are many more I’ve totally lost contact with. Maybe if I mention some names they’ll surface.

Bob Weiss. I’m guessing the last time I saw or spoke to Bob was in the late 60s. He lived in an apartment in Jackson Heights, Queens. We had gone to summer camp together. His father worked at an advertising agency.

Sometime during high school his parents took the two of us to the Village Limelight to see Jean Shepard. In our mid-teens, we watched his live radio broadcast from a bar. At that time, it was certainly the coolest moment of my life.

Bob – send me an email.

Dan Weston. Dan was my roommate freshman year in college. We were on the 3rd floor at 132 Beacon Street. As is so often the case, we didn’t know how good we had it, living in Back Bay Boston as 18 year olds. I last saw Dan sometime in the mid-70s.

I can’t imagine what being my roommate must have been like, but whatever it was, I apologize.

Dan was from Jericho, NY where is father was a dentist. His sister was a harpist. I’m sure his mom was great, but I’ve got nothing on her.

After college, Dan moved to Hershey, Pennsylvania where he worked for the PBS affiliate.

Dan – drop me a line.

Marty Ingber. Marty lived near me in Electchester, the gigantic housing project, originally built by the Electrical Workers’ Union, hidden away in a two fare zone&#185 in Queens. I probably have seen him since 1968.

Marty and I were friends, but we weren’t best friends. However, I had two memorable moments with Marty. Actually, one is sure and the other I think was Marty.

The ‘sure’ moment was when the two of us went to a Mets game at the Polo Grounds. The Mets moved into Shea Stadium in 1964, so it was 1963. I was 13. Wow – that now seems awfully young to have gone with just a friend.

By this time the Polo Grounds, situated on Coogan’s Bluff in Harlem, was pretty decrepit. The NY Giants had moved to San Francisco after the 1957 season. Preventative maintenance was probably the last thing on anyone’s mind for the five years it stood vacant. The Mets were pretty awful anyway.

We bought whatever the cheapest seat was and moved around. We ended up sitting way up high in a virtually deserted area.

At that time a coffee commercial was running on TV with the tag line, “You get what you pay for.” Every time a Met would do something wrong (a constant occurrence) one of us would say the line to the other. We laughed all afternoon.

I guess you had to be there.

This next one I’m not 100% sure about. I think it was with Marty, and it took place in Midtown Manhattan. We were there with my next door neighbor (I was in 5E, he in 5F) Dennis Westler. We were just hanging out in the city.

As we walked past a nice looking office building on Madison Avenue, one of them realized it held the offices of Mad Magazine. We went in. When we got to the proper floor, one of them (not me – I am chutzpah challenged) claimed we were there for a pre-arranged tour.

Whoever it was who came out, took pity on us and showed us around. That was also amazing. There weren’t a lot of creative people to meet, but there was a lot of original artwork scattered around. I remember looking at some original “Spy vs Spy” panels.

Marty – say hello.

I’m sure there are more people from my past waiting to be found, but let me see how I do with these three. I’ll let you know how this turns out.

&#185 – It’s not this way anymore, but you use to pay for each bus or subway ride individually. A two fare zone meant, you lived somewhere where you needed to ride both a bus and subway to get to Manhattan. Living in a two fare zone makes you, by definition, geographically undesirable.

Missing Helaine

Helaine’s out-of-town for a few days. It’s very quiet here.

I am very surprised how much more efficient I am at amassing a mess when she’s not around, even though I’m not sure how I do it!

The mail, which I was asked to leave in a provided plastic bag, is piled on the kitchen counter. The newspapers are piled, one upon the other, on the kitchen table.

I have thumbed through the Times each day, but the New Haven Register has only had its cover perused. Sorry inside advertisers.

Knowing I’m an organizational nightmare, Helaine left “oatmeal kits” – literally pre-measured bags of oatmeal! Still, when I went to cook my oatmeal this morning, the first step was to wash out yesterday’s pot and escort yesterday’s dish from the sink to the dishwasher.

Some things never change, I suppose.

I went to work yesterday leaving the stove on! It was on low. Still.

The pills I take on a daily basis are in one of those little compartmentalized plastic holders (which in the absence of a drivers license can be used to qualify for any senior citizen discount). I’ve been good with the pills, but only because I remember what happened when I wasn’t taking my antihistamine.

I am off work tomorrow, so I plan on doing the wash and straightening up… or, possibly, not. I have some friends coming over tomorrow night. The downstairs will be presentable. That’s a given. And, even if it’s a mad dash to the finish, everything will be fine when Helaine returns.

Before she left, Helaine pre-positioned snacks. No shopping necessary. They’re the Hershey’s equivalent of M&Ms, but in order to make sure they’d be here for my guests, Helaine has hidden them. Where they are is on a need to know basis. I currently don’t have the proper clearance.

This is trash night. I could take the cans out now, but tonight (when there’s the chance of rain) is when I’ll do it.

I’ve always firmly believed it is correct to put off anything, with the thought the world could end between now and when the project is due. Unfortunately, this is the kind of dominant trait passed from father to child. My bad.

Helaine is only gone a few days and look where I am already. Imagine what I was like as a bachelor? Good lord!

I had a ketchup bottle stuck to my kitchen table and science projects growing in the bathroom.

If left to my own devices, like most men, I’d revert to my caveman concept of neat and clean. Why don’t we ever really grow up?