Alumni meeting

Yesterday (Wednesday, January 26, 2011) was a regular quarterly meeting of the dreaded 282 Alumni.
The so-called “Alumni” are the union retirees of Regional Transit Service in Rochester, NY.
For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service (RTS — “Transit”), a public employer, the transit-bus operator in Rochester and environs.
The Alumni was a reaction to the fact Transit management retirees ran roughshod over union retirees — a continuation of the bad vibes at Transit, management versus union.
Transit had a club for long-time employees, and I was in it. It was called the “15/25-year Club;” I guess at first the “25-year Club.” But they lowered the employment requirement, and renamed it “15/25-year Club.” The employment requirement was lowered even more; I joined at 10 years.
My employ there ended in 1993 with my stroke; and the “Alumni” didn’t exist then. The Alumni is a special club — you have to join. (It’s an ATU [Amalgamated Transit Union] functionary.)
It isn’t just a social club.
It has bylaws, officers, and an Executive Board.
In many ways it’s just like our union-local, except it entertains issues of interest to retirees; like Medicare, healthcare, and diabetes and Alzheimer’s.
I always feel a little out-of-it at these meetings, since I was somewhat out-of-it as a bus-driver.
I took a seat quietly by myself and began finishing yesterday’s blog, “To Excel.”
Others joined me after a while, mainly Vern Smith, an old railfan like me, and Ron Palermo. Palermo is a retired bus-driver, Vern a retired mechanic.
Vern had brought along various railfan books, plus a box of multiple pamphlets of railfan sites in which he is involved.
Major Anderson, a retired bus-driver, and member of the Alumni Board, loudly bellowed the meeting to order.
Unlike previous meetings, a dais had been set up.
Previous meetings were rather informal.
It was kind of sad.
There was Steward Broadhurst, president of the Alumni, standing silently while Joe Carey (“carry”), recently retired as Local 282 president, took over the meeting.
The 282 Alumni is an official arm of the nationwide Amalgamated Transit Union (ATU — “what’s ‘ah-two?’”), so has to be taken seriously.
But Broadhurst is president; Carey just a board-member.
It seemed just like a Local 282 monthly business meeting, except not in our union-hall (in a grungy restaurant instead), with different characters.
A guy from Rochester Optical gave a presentation; I suppose the Alumni has negotiated special reduced pricing.
But I tuned it out.
I stick with Heidi, Heidi Piper of the Eye-Care Center of Canandaigua.
Heidi, like me, is a graduate of Houghton College, and like most Houghton-grads I’ve met, has her feet squarely on the ground.
Beyond that, the Eye-Care Center of Canandaigua has never cost me much; co-pays of maybe five or 10 dollars.
My health-insurance seems to cover my visits to Eye-Care, and covered most of the cost of new polarized prescription sun-glasses.
I suppose those sun-glasses might have cost less through Rochester Optical, but I can afford an extra 20 bucks or so.
It’s mainly Heidi, and also Dawn Pisello, the lady that does my eye-exam. Neither would be at Rochester Optical.
So the Rochester Optical presentation came and went.
Most of the time I was paging through Vern’s railfan books.
I’m a railfan myself, and have been since age-two (I’m almost 67).
The meeting moved on to other business, like swearing in newly elected Alumni officers.
This was done by Carey; hmmmmnnnnnnnn.........
Carey also talked about the difficulty of getting the healthcare we were promised, particularly continuing the health-insurance we had when we retired.
It was guaranteed (public-employees in New York are guaranteed the health-insurance they retired with).
But Transit has gotten retirees to acquiesce to cheaper health-insurance programs — cheaper for Transit.
“You all have Blue Cross/Blue Shield,” Carey said, as he always has.
“Not this kid!” I shouted. I have another insurance.
It was the first time I had said it — soon others were saying the same thing.
“Guess what, Joe. We don’t all have Blue Cross/Blue Shield.”
Retirees have also bought into health-insurance alternatives on-their-own they don’t need, e.g. Wal*Mart/Humana and AARP Medicare Supplementary.
“Don’t do it,” Joe kept saying. “You don’t need it. You already got all you need.”
He detailed the difficulties of getting Medicare to pay as required, and also getting secondary health-insurance to pay as required.
“They have to have the right codes when you leave the Doctor’s office. Wrong codes and you pay.”
I feel like this never applies to me.
My Doctor-visits have always been by appointment, never by walk-in.
Walk-ins (not by Doctor request) are “you-pay.”
Plus my health-insurance always seemed to pay — and that includes two hospital-stays after my stroke.
Healthcare comes and goes.
I don’t feel like I’m facing the financial Armageddon Joe talks about.
My health-insurance pays my YMCA membership so I can work out.
I don’t know as Blue Cross/Blue Shield would.
Lois Wagner, a retired bus-driver, and board-member of the Alumni, kept trying to restore order.
It was a losing battle.
It was partly Vern and I, two old railfans discussing various enthusiasms.
Vern pulled out a large computer print-out of a picture he took.
It was a retired friend in a wheelchair fishing into the State Barge Canal from the old towpath.
The State Barge Canal is the old Erie Canal widened, deepened, and somewhat rerouted.
At that point the CSX mainline (railroad) is parallel and adjacent. The nose of a train was peeking into the picture far away.
Vern and his buddy were set up under a highway-bridge that provided shade.
The bridge goes over both the canal and the railroad.
“Where IS this place?” I asked.
I had seen this location before, perhaps the same photo.
“Right near Fairport. Take 31F east out to Lyndon Road. Turn south on Lyndon. The bridge is Lyndon Road.”
Okay, sounds findable.
The meeting finally broke up.
The Blue Horizon Restaurant, where we hold the meetings, is kind of disgusting.
It’s an old restaurant across from Rochester International Airport, probably from the ‘50s or ‘60s.
It’s a grease-pit; I gave up eating there.
The rest-rooms are also disgusting.
They’re dirty with cooties. We call it “the Blue Cockroach.”
They have a conference-room, and our meetings are in it.
There’s probably a low price. I see stickers for other unions in the conference-room.
I used the rest-room before leaving, but someone was sitting on the toilet in the booth.
It was Tom Hyder (“HIGH-der”), the Alumni’s Recording Secretary.
“Ya gotta watch that seat,” he said. “It comes off in your hand.”
“You actually sat on that toilet-seat?” I said. “You better take a shower!”
A friend has said “If I ever have to go to the bathroom at that place, I’m goin’ out in the street!”

• “Dreaded” because all my siblings are flagrantly anti-union.
• “282” is Local 282, the Rochester local of the Amalgamated Transit Union.
• I had a stroke October 26, 1993.
• “What’s ‘ah-two?’” is something my mother asked seeing my ATU button.
• “Fairport” is an old village on the Erie Canal, east of Rochester. It’s now a suburb. The railroad also goes through it.
• “CSX” is CSX railroad, a large railroad in the eastern half of the U.S. —It now owns and operates the old New York Central mainline across New York state. (That line was purchased from Conrail when it was broken up and sold. [“Conrail” is a government amalgamation of east-coast railroads that went bankrupt pretty much at the same time as Penn-Central, a merger of the Pennsylvania Railroad and New York Central that failed. Conrail included other bankrupt east-coast railroads, like Erie-Lackawanna and Lehigh Valley; but eventually went private as it became more successful. Conrail has since been broken up, sold to CSX Transportation Industries and Norfolk Southern railroad. CSX got mainly the old New York Central routes, and NS got the old Pennsylvania Railroad routes, although NS also has the old Erie Railroad route across southern NY.])