What People Wrote In My High School Yearbook

Today I was looking back at my high school yearbook. I was struck immediately by how young I looked. Somehow, I forget that at 17-years-old, I was still a child. I remember thinking I knew everything, when I really knew almost nothing. My yearbook is signed by dozens of people who I was friendly with in high school, but have barely spoken to since.

Here are some of the signatures and what people wrote:

Inside front cover:
“Dearest Rich, See you at Bingo and all around. Have fun in all you do. I know you will. Love always, Debbie. PS Don’t forget arm wrestling or S.H. over me.” OK, inside front cover is prime real estate. And I’m getting crap for choosing Sharon H. over Debbie B? For all time, I have to remember that I was a jerk as 17-years-old to Debbie? Damn. Actually, thanks to FACEBOOK, I’ve reconnected with Debbie. We still e-mail from time to time. But I don’t think I ever saw her at Bingo ever again.

First page:
“Rich, So many precious moments we’ve shared, so many times together, I don’t want them to end. You know I wish you luck in everything you do especially putting up with me. My love forever and a day, Kid (Joann).” This is hard to read. Joann and I were high school sweethearts. We went to the Junior and Senior prom together. I drove her to school every day after I got my drivers license. But right before the end of school, we broke up. We were going our separate ways in college and we decided on a clean break. I left out a lot that she wrote. It’s like a travelogue of my high school years. So many things we had done together. And after graduation, we never spoke again. Not at any reunions. Not on FACEBOOK. Never. When we graduated, it was over. Forever. And I don’t remember ever calling her ‘kid.’

Pages 20 – 42 – Curriculum
On the next 22 pages are all the teachers. Only one signed my yearbook – Ms. LeVan, the school nurse. Ironically, in three years of high school, I don’t think I ever went to the nurse. Yet there’s her signature and these words of advice “Rich, Best wishes and happiness to one of my favorite guys. Only the best for you. Remember all the good times at Jade East.” I have no idea what she’s talking about. (Jade East was a restaurant in Edison, NJ – but I don’t remember ever seeing her there.) Thanks, Ms. LeVan.

Page 52 – 90 – Sports
Want to know how popular I was with the jocks? The only signatures I got on the next 38 pages were from two cheerleaders. Donna P. and Debbie McK. “Dear Rich, It’s been great these past years and I’m glad we’ve become friends. You’re a really nice person and I’ll never forget you. Best of luck always, love, Mac.” This entry was the heartbreaker. I had a crush on her for years. She sat right behind me in homeroom. We were never more than friends. (Even though I asked her to the junior prom – but she went with Jimmy Winters) You’re a really nice person? I’m still crying over this entry.

Last page and inside back cover:
“Rich, what can I say??? We’ve been through a hell of a lot together. We’ve been great friends and I know we will always stay that way. (This entry goes on for two pages) I know we’ll always stay friends and some day if we play our cards right we will have the business that we’ve always been talking about. I think the good times are just beginning. Love, Ferd.” My best friend, Ken, wrote this entry. And yes, we’ve stayed in touch all these years. He was the Best Man for my wedding. I was the Best Man for his. My children call him Uncle Ken. His daughter is one of my FACEBOOK friends. And while we never opened a business together, we spent time together on vacations, day trips, family get together parties, good times and bad times. Ken is more than a friend. He’s the brother I never had. His entry is the only one where I clearly remember every event he describes. Because they defined my life from 10 to 17-years-old and I hold those memories close to my heart.

So that’s about it. Except for one other entry. On page 248, a friend, Tom Miller wrote an entire page to remind me about a fight we had over two girls, Lynn and Marianne. So Tom, if you’re reading this, yes, I remember – and if you’re ever in New York, I have a slice of pizza with your face written all over it.

1.28.12

The Art of Begging for Money

I ride the NYC subway to work on rainy days (like today) and I’ve heard and watched dozens of people beg for money (which is against the law). They all have their sales pitch down pat. They all get donations. But as an advertising creative director, I feel the need to make some changes to their sales pitch. Some of their presentations could use a little help. So, as my donation, I will give away for free my advice on how to improve some of the pitches I hear often in the NYC subway system.

Harvel – the Viet Nam Vet
“Hello, my name is Harvel, I’m a disabled Viet Nam vet. I was formerly homeless. And now I’m asking for money to give a coat, a sandwich or a piece of fruit to other homeless men and women. I’m asking nothing for myself. I can’t work because since Viet Nam, I have to take all these pills. (Holds up a bag of over 50 empty pill bottles). Thank you and god bless.”

Not a bad pitch. Harvel has props; pill bottles, sandwiches, a cart with various items inside. And he gets more donations than anyone else I see on the Subway. But I think his pitch could use a little more sizzle. Here is my suggestion: Tell us WHY you’re doing this. WHY you spend 12 hours a day in the subway system asking for money. I don’t care what you’re doing, but WHY you’re doing it.

“Hello, my name is Harvel. I’m a disabled Viet Nam vet who has dedicated his life to helping people. This is something that was instilled in me during my tour in Viet Nam. While I was stationed near De Nag, I saw things that made me want to get out of the Army and spend my life helping those who couldn’t help themselves. That’s why I’m asking for money. I want to ensure that the homeless get the basic necessities they need to survive. A sandwich, a warm coat, or even simply a piece of fruit.”

I don’t know, but I think he’d get more donations. I also wouldn’t use the medication bottles. It seems like an excuse. And since they’re empty, make it seem like a scam.

‘I Will Survive’ singer
There’s a woman who sings “I will survive” in the subway system. And while she has a great voice, singing about how you’ll survive may not be the best choice to get donations. Just like American Idol, it’s all about song choice. Here are some suggested new songs:

“With a little help from my friends” – The Beatles. A small donation will help her ‘get by with a little help from my friends’

“Help” – The Beatles. ‘Help, I need someone, won’t you please, please help me.’

“End of the Line” – Metallica. Maybe you just need to shock some people into helping. ‘Need more and more, tainted misery, bleed battle scars, chemical affinity.’ Who could ignore that?

Anyway, those are some of my thoughts for today. If you’re going to ask for something, make sure your pitch stands out from the crowd. Or else, you may just be ignored.

1.27.12

Overheard On The NYC Subway

I admit it. I listen to other people’s conversations on public transportation. I think real dialogue is so funny. And that people sometimes have no idea that what they’re saying is so funny. The other thing I love about listening to random conversations, is that you don’t know the context. You only know the sound bite.

Here are a few that I’ve heard this week.

British or Canadian?
Guy #1: Who do you think you could trust, somebody British or Canadian?
Guy #2: Dunno, they both talk funny, I don’t know if I could trust anybody who talks like that.
Guy #1: I think I would trust the Canadian dude.
Guy #2: I never met any Canadians.
Guy #1: Those British guys think they’re all, like, Kings and Queens.
Guy #2: But Canadians only play hockey.
Guy #1: White dudes with sticks. You’re right, I can’t trust that.

Women talking about men
Woman #1: Did he call?
Woman #2: No.
Woman #1: I told you he wasn’t going to call.
Woman #2: But he said he was going to call.
Woman #1: Men lie. All men lie. (Looks at me – sees I’m listening) Oh, no offense.
Me: No, I agree.
Woman #1: See that, even men know they all lie.
Woman #2: But he said he was going to call.
Woman #1: Your problem, it you want to believe. You can’t believe. You can’t.
Woman #2: I’m calling him.
Woman #1: I’ll tell you what I’m calling him – I’m calling him an asshole.

Men talking about women
Man #1: You find a job yet?
Man #2: No, but I told my wife I did.
Man #1: So, your wife thinks you’re at work now?
Man #2: Probably not. She probably thinks I already got fired.
Man #1: When did you start this job?
Man #2: Yesterday.
Man #1: And you got fired already. Man, you’re a loser.
Man #2: That what my wife says.

E-Mail
Man: Guess how many e-mails I got today?
Woman: 200
Man: More
Woman: 500.
Man: More. How about 618? And guess how many were cover your ass e-mails?
Woman: 618?
Man: No, 617. I got a confirmation e-mail for my lunch order. That doesn’t count.
Woman: But isn’t a confirmation e-mail kind of covering their ass – you know – that they didn’t get your order screwed up.
Man: Thanks. That just ruined my day. I was hoping for one non-CYA e-mail. You had to burst my bubble. You had to trample on my hopes and dreams.
Woman: You’re welcome.

There you have it. E-mail sucks, men lie, men are losers and you can’t trust anyone from Canada. That’s what’s on the minds of commuters on the NYC subways system.

1.26.12