50th-year high-school reunion

The infamous “Penn-Fruit” gym (the most stellar photograph). (Photo by BobbaLew.)

Yrs trly graduated high-school in 1962.
Which means this year is the 50th anniversary of my high-school graduation.
I no longer live in northern Delaware, where I attended high-school.
I live in western New York.
That meant a long drive down to northern Delaware to attend my reunion.
About seven hours. I took all limited-access highway and made three bathroom stops.
Only one of my family still lives in northern Delaware, a younger brother Bill, born there. I’m the oldest. Born in south Jersey and lived there until I was almost 14. (I’m 14 years older than Bill.)
I would stay with Bill. All my other siblings are all over the country. I even had a slightly younger sister, recently deceased, who moved to Fort Lauderdale, Florida long ago.
Both parents are dead. They moved to south Florida when my father retired, to be near my sister.
The reunion would be on Thursday, September 20th. I drove down and arrived at Bill’s the 19th.
My brother Bill has only one child, a son, Tom. He moved out on his own and recently married.
But he lives near Bill.
Like me, Bill’s son is a railfan, also like me a Pennsy railfan.
“Pennsy” is the Pennsylvania Railroad, which no longer exists, but was once the largest railroad in the world.
It justly called itself “The Standard Railroad of The World.”
I was introduced to railfanning via the Pennsylvania Railroad, actually Pennsylvania-Reading Seashore Lines in south Jersey (“RED-ing,” not “READ-ing”).
PRSL is an amalgamation of Pennsylvania and Reading railroad-lines in south Jersey to counter the fact the two railroads had too much parallel track. It was promulgated in 1933. It serviced mainly the south Jersey seashore from Philadelphia.
PRSL used both Pennsy and Reading steam-locomotives, but Pennsy’s engines were much prettier.
I’ve been a railfan since age two — I’m now 68.
Not long after I arrived at Bill’s, his son arrived with a carton of Pennsy paraphernalia: old Pennsy magazines, rule-books, maps and diagrams. Also old schedules.


Me (left) and my nephew Tom (right) jabbering about Pennsy. (Photo by Sue Hughes.)

My brother Bill’s wife Sue took a picture of us jabbering about Pennsy at their dining-room table (above).
Pennsy was indeed “The Standard Railroad of The World.”
Both Tom and I are Pennsy fans.
Tom has a collection of Pennsy paraphernalia, including dining-car china. What I have is lots of memories.
Northern Delaware was a treasure-trove. It had the old electrified Pennsy New York City-to-Washington, D.C. mainline, now Amtrak’s Northeast Corridor, since extended to Boston.
Pennsy would operate express passenger-trains over the line at incredible speeds, most powered by the GG1 electric-locomotive (“Jee-Jee-ONE;” I only say that because a friend was mispronouncing it “Jee-Jee-Eye”), the greatest railroad locomotive of all time.
Pennsy’s GG1 passenger-trains could scare me to death.


STAND BACK! (Photo by BobbaLew in 1961.)

I once had a GG1 blast by about 10 feet away from me at 90-100 mph.
Had I not had my arm hooked around a light-standard, I woulda been sucked into the train.
Things like this I never forget.
That’s goin’ to my grave!
Fortunately I’m old enough to have experienced the greatest railroad locomotive of all time.
My nephew Tom hasn’t, but his maternal grandfather, for a short time, has, at Pennsy’s Wilmington Shops as an apprentice.

DAY TWO...
The day of the reunion (Thursday, September 20, 2012).
But that wasn’t until 7 o’clock.
So my brother and I decided to visit my Aunt May over in south Jersey.
Aunt May is 82, and is the only one left of my father’s siblings, although there were only three: my father (the oldest), a brother (my Uncle Rob), and finally my Aunt May.
My Aunt May was born in 1930, a Depression year, and was considered a mistake. After my Aunt May my grandfather and grandmother no longer slept together, although that was mainly my grandmother.


Me (at left), and my Aunt May (at right) (Photo by Bill Hughes.)

Our visit would be a surgical-strike, which seems to be what my Aunt May wants.
We’d do lunch at a restaurant in south Jersey near where Aunt May lives.
Aunt May lives alone. She divorced her husband years ago (“that bum”).
What I came away with was much more pleasing than what I expected.
I’d been told my Aunt May had become my grandmother, but she was still the MayZ I preferred, a free spirit, prone to snide remarks and verbal potshots.
“MayZ” is the nickname my Uncle Rob gave her: “Maysie.“ I changed it to “MayZ.”
“So when ya comin’ back?” my Aunt May asked.
“Probably never,” I said.
“Why not? These are your roots,” she said.
“Crowded, overdeveloped, and it stinks,” I said.
“Why would I ever want to return to the Land of the Gravel-Pit and Mud-Bog,” I asked; “when I got a huge woodlot fenced that’s perfect for my dog?”
Visiting Aunt May is a trip into another state, but only about a half-hour.
It’s ironic that into New Jersey, over a large river-bridge, is free, but out is $5 toll.
Back in Delaware, a tour of my old high-school, Brandywine High, was scheduled at 4 p.m.
My old high-school still stands, although considerably expanded.
The elementary-school across the street was torn down.
My brother and I passed Brandywine earlier, and the driveway was crammed with schoolbuses.
“That’s right,” I shouted. “Today is a school-day. It’s Thursday.”
My brother would tag along, since he graduated Brandywine too, but in 1976.
Old classmates started trickling in. We ended up with perhaps 20.


I’m at right. (Photo by Bill Hughes.)

An Assistant-Principal lead us around.
Brandywine had been considerably expanded since we were there. More classrooms were added, plus a shop for auto-repair.
After-school activities were going on. Rehearsal in the auditorium for a play, concert-band practice in the old band-room — enlarged and lined with trophies, and finally a volleyball game in the gym.
That gym was always special, the infamous Penn-Fruit gym.
Penn-Fruit grocery-stores no longer exist. When our high-school was built, it used the same laminated-wood arch construction over the gym the Penn-Fruit supermarkets used.
Which is why it was called “the Penn-Fruit gym.”
But now the Assistant-Principal was saying it was small.
Which I guess it is.
There’s not much bleacher-seating.
The reunion would be held at The Carriage-House at Rockwood Park in northern Delaware.
It’s rather glitzy and probably expensive, but it was our 50th.
The Carriage-House went along with a mansion on an estate.
The estate was deeded over and the mansion converted into a museum. The land, mostly wooded, was converted to a park.
It would be a party, as all our reunions have been, but also a buffet-dinner.
Not a take-what-you-want buffet. Food dished out from a serving-line; no waitresses.
I pretty much kept to myself; I’m not a party-person.
But then an old friend invited me to his table: “Hughes, will you quit being a loner and come eat with us?”
I joined, but still kept to myself.
A girl who was a delectable sexpot was still cute, but at age-68 was no longer the lithesome temptress she was even at our 35th reunion, the last I attended.
Another girl who was thin but attractive in high-school had gained some pounds, and her hair had gone white. I hardly recognized her.
Another had earned her doctorate, yet hardly seemed the type while in high-school.
One girl looked better now than in high-school, but was using a cane.
“I should have taken you out!” I said to the girl I always say that to.
“Well why didn’t you?” she snapped.
“Too messed up,” I always say.
“You’re Facebooking Lynne Huntsberger?” a guy asked me.
“Everyone was after Lynne Huntsberger.”
“She searched me out!” I cried.
Not exactly.
She probably noticed me in Facebook’s Brandywine grads, so sent me a friend invite — along with a note wondering if I was her old date.
“I took her horseback-riding,” I said. “Not serious, just interesting.”
Off to the side was a posterboard with enlarged yearbook pictures of classmates who died. There were about 10.
It was tragic to look at. Some died of cancer, and one drank himself to death. Others died in ‘Nam.
I wondered about heart-attacks.
Of course, I have a death to deal with myself, that of my wife.
I related same to some.
“No, I didn’t know. So sorry. When was that?”
“About five months ago,” I’d say.
“That’s recent.”
“Recent” is what they all said.
I guess five months ago is recent. I know I’m still devastated and heartbroken.
Dinner finished, I decided to leave. Although I mingled some. Talked a bit with various classmates I rarely associated with in high-school.
A Student-Senate president, a lettered football star.
Our class advisor, a teacher (since retired), was there. I collared him and mentioned I never amounted to anything, as he predicted long ago.
On my way out I struck up a conversation with a lady probably still in her 40s. She was the wife of a classmate.
What could she possibly see in me?
I know some are attracted to ne’er-do-wells like me. I was married to an attractress 44 years.
Our conversation went on-and-on.
I felt like I was spilling my guts all over the floor, but she seemed interested.
I finally said “I hafta leave,” and walked back into the party to find someone.
It was approaching 10 p.m. as I left. Much later than I expected.
I had mingled with a few, and attracted the attention of a pleasant surprise — someone not from our class.

DAY THREE...
At long last (Friday, September 21, 2012).
(Although an extra day was needed.)


At the Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania (inside). (Photo by BobbaLew.)

My railfan nephew has been trying to get me to visit Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania for years.
I’ve been unable. That’s a trip to Delaware, or Pennsylvania Dutch country, about 360 miles to Delaware.
Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania, next to Strasburg Tourist Railroad, has Pennsylvania Railroad’s collection of steam-locomotives.
Unlike most railroads, Pennsy retained one of every significant self-designed steam-locomotive it ever owned.
They were stored in a roundhouse in Northumberland, PA.
Only one got away. A Pennsy I1sa Decapod (2-10-0).
It’s in Buffalo.


The Pennsy Decapod near Buffalo.

Pennsy eventually merged with New York Central (Penn-Central), and that went defunct.
Conrail, PC’s successor, decided to get rid of Pennsy’s collection. It was transferred to Strasburg Railroad. All the equipment was moved there.
I remember seeing it stored outside in the ‘70s.
Most of the Pennsy engines looked pretty good. Some didn’t. Other engines, like a Nickel-Plate Berk (2-8-4), were in bad shape. Stored outside they deteriorated with the weather.
Eventually the Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania was founded across the street from Strasburg, and with a shed the equipment could be moved inside.
Some equipment is still outside.


The Nickel-Plate Berkshire (2-8-4). —This thing is still stored outside. (Photo by BobbaLew.)


GG1 #4935; probably the best GG1 still extant. (Photo by BobbaLew.)


“Old Rivets,” #4800, the prototype GG1 with a riveted body-shell. (Other GG1s are welded body-shell.) —This picture reprises one taken long ago; Tom (right) was much younger, and me (left) about 50 pounds lighter. Rivets is stored outside, and is deteriorating. (Photo by Bill Hughes.)


The only remaining fully-assembled Pennsy K4-Pacific (4-6-2) — there is another, but it’s apart. #3750 is stored outside. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

Lots of equipment is stored in the shed.
Lots is also stored outside.
Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania has installed a turntable, and some equipment is stored off it. The turntable is outside.
What’s nice is the Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania has the old Pennsy collection, many old Pennsy steam-locomotives, non-working.
A couple did, used on Strasburg and an excursion or two.
1223, their 4-4-0, broke, and 7002, an E2 4-4-2 Atlantic, had cab signals installed so it could run on the old Pennsy main.
7002 was also used on Strasburg, but now it’s retired.
The Lindbergh Engine, E6 4-4-2 #460, is being restored, but probably only for display.
#460 headed a train of newsreels up to New York City (the railroad wasn’t electrified at that time) when Lindbergh returned to Washington DC after his transatlantic flight.
460 beat the airplanes, which is why Pennsy saved it.
But primarily because a baggage-car had been converted to a darkroom.
Newsreels from the airplanes, though parachuted, still had to be developed.
Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania also has “blackjack,” GG1 #4935, nicknamed “blackjack” because its numbers add up to 21.
#4935 was also restored to its original Raymond Loewy (“low-eeee”) paint-scheme, five gold pin-stripes on the Brunswick-Green body.
Loewy, at that time, worked for Pennsy as an industrial designer, did little to the GG1, but made it look great. He convinced the railroad to use a welded body-shell.
Stored inside, it’s the finest GG1 still extant, and quite a few were saved.
I located the bell for 4935, it’s up under the nose in the frame.
I was able to ring it causing fear and consternation.
My nephew Tom recorded a video he put up on YouTube.



Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania also has “Rivets,” #4800, the prototype GG1 with a riveted body-shell.
But it’s stored outside, and is deteriorating. Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania has two GG1s, and they weren’t part of the original Pennsy collection.
After Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania we headed back down PA State Route 741, the tiny rural asphalt two-lane the museum and tourist-railroad are on.
I was with Tom. We were headed toward Gap, PA. The old Pennsy main also goes through Gap. It threads two sharp curves.
Tom was accessing Amtrak’s web-site on his iPhone, and an eastbound passenger-train was leaving nearby Lancaster to the west; the old Pennsy main was now Amtrak — and the train was on time.
The railroad was still electrified; an AEM-7 would be on the point (although they’re in push-pull service; a cab-end is at the other end).
We stopped in Gap to get a picture.


Eastbound Amtrak Keystone service through Gap. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

We’re both railfans; we can’t resist.
After we got the picture we continued toward Delaware, Newark along the Northeast Corridor.
Newark is a great place to watch trains. No security, and trains at 120 mph!


STAND BACK! (Photo by BobbaLew.)

I’ve been to other stations where security harasses you — asks what you’re doing, and blows you in.



Tom was again accessing Amtrak. We saw about six trains over an hour or so. Most were Metroliner expresses, two were Acelas, and two were commuter locals.
Commuter service ends and begins in Newark.

DAY FOUR...
Back to reality! (Saturday, September 22, 2012).

This entire visit was pleasant. Escape from the dreadful sadness at home.
My beloved wife is gone, and I’m alone.
My dog, who I had boarded, was thrilled to see me.
But it’s back to a lonely house, “home” with a giant void.

REGRETS...

— 1) I was unable to see Sue’s father, who just had open-heart surgery. But it wasn’t a bypass, just a valve replacement.
I had open-heart surgery myself, but only to repair the cause of my stroke; an opening between the upper chambers of my heart — a Patent foramen ovale (”PAY-tint four-AYE-min oh-VAL-eeee”).
No matter, open-heart surgery is very serious.
Her father is 83, and though home was utterly whacked.
—2) I was unable to see Tom’s new wife Beth.
I was told she was working.
Well okay, but I worry.
Tom has friends in his parents. My wife and I didn’t. I don’t know as that prompted our closeness, but I worry about Tom and Beth.
I worry about her being protected from me; but I’d like to think that at age-68 I can control myself.

• “Sue Hughes” is my brother’s wife; “Bill Hughes” is my brother.
• I had a stroke October 26, 1993, from which I pretty much recovered.