Newsletter for the Alumni and Friends of
Hicksville High School Hicksville, New York

The Editors:
Buffalo Bob Casale '61	Linda (Piccerelli) Hayden '60
Pat (Koziuk) Driscoll '56	Bob (Gleason) Wesley '61

Contributing Editors: Bob Gillette & Walter Schmidt

Webmaster: Roger Whitaker

To contact the editors, email This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.

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HICKSVILLE VIETNAM WAR ERA MEMORIAL - PROJECT UPDATE

Thanks to the efforts and hard work by Memorial Committee member, John Tranchina and the contacts of committee member, Bill Walden, we were able to join with the Hicksville American Legion and the Hicksville Fire Department, hosts of the Hicksville Memorial Day Parade, in the Parade ending ceremonies held at the Jerusualem Avenue Middle School Memorial Gardens, for our Dedication Ceremony, which was hosted by committee member, Tommy Sullivan.

This came together quickly and while we had promised to provide more than one week's notice to those Alumni wishing to attend the ceremony, we trust you can all understand that after a pandemic forced 2 1/2 year wait, since the Memorial's construction, we chose to take advantage of the opportunity and timing to complete the Memorial's Dedication at this time.

The success of this Project could not have taken place without the help of our Memorial Committee and the cooperation of HixNews and its editors; particularly Bob Casale and Roger Whitaker, plus the numerous donations of Hicksville High School Alumni and other Hicksville organizations. The excellent cooperation from Hicksville's Superintendent of Public Schools, Marianne Litzmann and her staff is also very much appreciated.

Our heartfelt Thank You to all those mentioned above that enabled this Memorial to those who served our Great Country and those who paid the ultimate price for their service, during the Vietnam War Era, to happen!!

Details of the Dedication Ceremony, including pictures and further information on the disposition of names submitted for the Memorial after its construction, along with plans for the final donation of any remaining funds to worthy Veteran's causes, will be published in the July 1, 2022 issue of HixNews.

Additional donations are still welcome. Please see our detailed report on the Project's status in the Honoring Our Veterans tab of this issue of HixNews.

On behalf of the Project Team,
Joe Carfora, HHS 1962

The Newsletter

We regret that this edition of the Hixnews newsletter has been lost and is no longer recoverable.

Photo Gallery

Happy Pictures

Birthdays & Anniversaries

Memory Lane

Perhaps I'm Still a Paperboy At Heart

Dan Holohan, Bethpage

I was just 12, so I can't remember his name, but he was whippet-tin and he always aid, "Stand back, men," when he clipped the wires that hugged the Newsday bundles.

"You don't want to get hit with this," explained as he started his count. "It will cut you good."

"Danny, here's your 50. Got your bag?" I held up the canvas Newsday bag he had given me the week before. It had a flap to keep out the rain.

"You're a good man," he said. "Your bike OK? Got good air in your tires? This is a heavy load."

He handed me the stack of papers and I placed them in the bag just as he had shown me. "You remember how to fold them so they don't come apart?"

I took one, held it horizontally and folded the top and bottom of the paper toward each other and then tucked one end inside the other so it stayed together.

"That's good. Keep 'em tight. That's what the customers like. Now get going. Be safe."

I headed off to my 50 houses, all clustered around Burns Avenue School in Hicksville. My old school.

"I'm a working man now," I said to no one as I tried my best to keep the heavy bag balanced on my Schwinn's handlebars. No rain today. Good.

I knocked on my customers' doors on Saturdays.

"Collect," I'd say. Some would pay me and give me a nickel tip. Others would tell me to come back next week, giving me a lesson in accounts payable and accounts receivable.

The whippet taught me. "If you don't get paid, you still gotta pay me," he said. "Every week." I tried harder.

Eventually, I outgrew my Schwinn, got a job selling hot pretzels and Mid Island Plaza when it had no roof, worked as a door-to-door milkman, fell in love, got married, and went to work in th eheating industry. Go figure.

We have lived in Bethpage since 1977. Marianne and I raised four daughters, put them through college and paid for their weddings. Grandkids? You bet; six of them.

Each morning since I retired, I wake naturally at 5. I open the door and check the weather. Then I dress appropriately and start my walk. It's the same each day, five miles through a biscuit-shaped piece of Bethpage, much of it taking me back and forth through streets like laces on a sneaker.

I see the people who deliver the newspapers, mostly Newsday and the New York Post.

I bend and pick up the papers and carry them to the neighbors' fron doors. No one has those mailboxes with the newspaper hooks anymore. I just drop the papers on the unhinged side of the storm doors and move on. It feels good to bend and stretch.

The Newsday guy drives a sport utility vehicle. His windows are open, and I marvel at how skilled he is at tossing the papers left and right, barely slowing down as he goes. They land perfectly on each driveway and never slide under a car.

He doesn't play the radio. We pass each other on the sneaker-lace streets three times each dawn. We wave on the first pass. We never speak. He doesn't know that I'm doing the last mile.

Now and then, one of my neighbors wakes early and comes to the door as I approach the stoop, their paper in my hand. "You're the guy!" they'll say. "Yes."

"I can't tell you how much this means to us, especially when the weather is lousy. You're always there. Can I give you something?"

"No," I say. "But thanks. Enjoy the day."

"I can't thank you enough!"

"No need  to," I say. "It's my job."

Casale's Corner

NOAH TODAY

In the year 2022, the Lord came unto Noah, who was now living in America and said:

"Once again, the earth has become wicked and overpopulated, and I see the end of all flesh before me."

"Build another ark and save 2 of every living thing along with a few good humans."

He gave Noah the blueprints, saying: "You have 6 months to build the ark before I will start the unending rain for 40 days and 40 nights."

Six months later, the Lord looked down and saw Noah weeping in his yard - but no ark.

"Noah!," He roared, "I'm about to start the rain! Where is the ark?"

"Forgive me, Lord," begged Noah, "but things have changed."

"I needed a building permit."

"I've been arguing with the boat inspector about the need for a sprinkler system."

"My neighbors claim that I've violated the neighborhood by-laws by building the ark in my back yard and exceeding the height limitations.

We had to go to the local Planning Committee for a decision."

"Then the local Council and the electric company demanded a shed load of money for the future costs of moving power lines and other overhead obstructions, to clear the passage for the ark's move to the sea. I told them that the sea would be coming to us, but they would hear none of it."

"Getting the wood was another problem. There's a ban on cutting local trees in order to save the Greater Spotted Barn Owl."

"I tried to convince the environmentalists that I needed the wood to save the owls - but no go!"

"When I started gathering the animals the ASPCA took me to court. They insisted that I was confining wild animals against their will. They argued the accommodations were too restrictive and it was cruel and inhumane to put so many animals in a confined space."

"Then the Environmental Protection Agency ruled that I couldn't build the ark until they'd conducted an environmental impact study on your proposed flood."

"I'm still trying to resolve a complaint with the Human Rights Commission on how many minorities I'm supposed to hire for my building crew."

"The Immigration Dept. is checking the visa status of most of the people who want to work."

"The trade unions say I can't use my sons. They insist I have to hire only Union workers with ark-building experience."

"To make matters worse, the IRS seized all my assets, claiming I'm trying to leave the country illegally with endangered species."

 "So, forgive me, Lord, but it would take at least 10 years for me to finish this ark."

Suddenly the skies cleared, the sun began to shine, and a rainbow stretched across the sky.

Noah looked up in wonder and asked, "You mean you're not going to destroy the world?"

"No," said the Lord.

"The Government beat me to it."