There Has To Be A Morning After

Ronald, Stuart and I attended a Philadelphia Phillies game on May 24, 1959 (photo left, Stuart and I entering the ballpark s taken by Ronald). It was a double header between the Phils and Milwaukee Braves.  I guess we went by bus. The games were in old Shibe Park, called Connie Mack Stadium after 1953, although I believe we still called it Shibe.

Stuart brought his glove, but no fowl balls came up toward our seats. There were some Milwaukee fans sitting in front of us and we had some friendly jibing back and forth. The Phils won the first game and we were gloating, but the Braves took the nightcap. (Right, old Shibe Park/Connie Mack Stadium.)

This was only a couple weeks before graduation. I am not sure if there were many more times the three of us went anywhere together. We might have gotten together a few more times during that coming summer, but in August 1959 Stuart went off to Franklin & Marshall College and pretty much out of our lives for a long time. (Photo right Stuart and his Pi Lambda Phi brothers. Stuart is the third from the left in the second row.) There were a few intermittent and chance meetings during the 1960s between Stuart and I, especially around Temple University, but for all intent and purposes it would be close to forty years before we really hooked up again.

Stuart said at a reunion Ronald and I had with him in 2011 he remembered watching Twilight Zone at  my home. This was wrong. Twilight Zone didn’t debut on TV until October 2, 1959 and Stuart was gone by then. I think he confused it with “Shock Theater with Roland”, which we did watch together at times. “Shock Theater” began in Philadelphia in 1957.

Roland was a voice actor named John Zacherley (pictured left). The show showed old horror movies. Roland, looking like a skeletal undertaker, introduced the films and appeared at every commercial break with a pithy comment or two. It was very successful in Philadelphia and after a couple of years the host moved to a New York station using his own last name for the same persona.

During the years John Zacherley was on in Philadelphia he had a hit record, “Dinner with Drac”, and recorded an album.

Stuart did write in his autobiography that after watching “Shock Theater” at my place he was scared to death walking home afterward. I probably would have been too. “Shock Theater” didn’t come on until 11:00 at night. It would have been around 1:00 AM when he went home.

Except here again his memory is faulty. “Shock Theater” with Roland debuted on Philadelphia WCAU-TV in October 1957. I moved from Downingtown to Bucktown in June 1956 and although for a while I spent weekends visiting my grandparents at their Washington Avenue home, this ended a few weeks after my Grandfather died in January 1957, well before “Shock Theater” premiered. If he was walking home to Downingtown from my place in Bucktown, no wonder he felt scared. It would have been a 15-mile hike in the dead of night. I don't believe Stuart ever visited me at my home in Bucktown.

Now Ronald and I used to watch and discuss “The Twilight Zone” during the period after we graduated. I remember watching it at least once in his parent’s home on Hopewell Road.

“The Twilight Zone”, like “Alfred Hitchcock Presents”,  influenced my own writing. Especially the stories of Charles Beaumont (pictured left), one of Twilight's many writers. I had three of his short story collections, The Hunger and Other Stories, Yonder and Night Ride and other Journeys, as well as Remember, Remember, essays about pop culture. Beaumont died at age 38 from a somewhat mysterious wasting disease.

It is funny the crowded memories that flood in about those times, disjointed stuff, yet almost as if some finishing touches had to be put on my boyhood. Little things and silly things and confusing things that happened. For instance a little thing like taking a birthday gift to Iva Darlington in Downingtown. After all these years we were still close enough to exchange gifts. We even still exchanged Christmas presents.

On June 3, which was the day after my Graduation, after spending the afternoon at Ronald Tipton's, I  took him and picked up Tommy Wilson. I am not sure why I did that, because Tommy and I weren’t the friends that Richard and I were. We just went out cruising around through the evening, except I ran out of gas. I guess we found a nearby house and called home and asked my mom or dad to bring us a can of gas. We got home somehow, I just don’t remember how.

Speaking of strange rides. I was driving Ronald and some friends of his here and there during the latter part of May, this included a trip to Rocky Springs Amusement Park on May 30 with Ronald and a boy named George Bird. George was quite prevalent on the various trips we took there for a while. One night after being at the Downingtown Farmer’s Market and taking Ronald to his house, I agreed to take the others home as well. These three were Bill Brookover, a longtime friend of Ronald, Stuart and myself, the aforementioned George Bird and I believe the third boy was a friend of George or Ronald named Ed Cage. (In the photo right, Bill Brookover is on the extreme left. Ed Cage and George Bird are the two on the far right.)

As we were driving the conversation around me drifted off to the subject of sex. I really didn’t  have any experience in the matter, or none I wished to talk about. I wasn't going to share my stolen moments with porn magazines so I could masturbate with these guys.
But out of nowhere, this guy George began speaking about oral sex, although he used more graphic terms. He went on and on about the pleasures of it. Quite honestly this was a subject that never crossed my mind at that point of my life. The further we drove, the more explicit he got and then he began questioning us on who had experienced this form of activity. I was growing more and more uncomfortable the direction this chatter seemed to be headed and was becoming very eager to be rid of these guys. George was suggesting we should try it. Someone urged me to pull off the road,  but I told them it was getting pretty late and I was tired, I just wanted to get them home and go get some sleep. This seemed to dampen their enthusiasm and the car grew silent for most of the rest of the trip.

After that night neither George or Ed popped up in my life again, much to my relief. Ronald remained close friends with Ed for the rest of Ed’s life. Ed died in Rehoboth during January 2015. I have no idea whatever happened to George. Bill Brookover is still an occasional friend of both Ronald, Stuart and myself.

I didn’t follow the conversation very well because it was making me nervous. It was a new viewpoint to me and the suggestion we pull off the road and have oral sex with each other repulsed me. I knew almost nothing about Homosexuality then and  did not realize that the discussion might have certain implications for the future.

Right up to my high school graduation I was dating and flying with Suzy Cannell. On May 29 I took her to the Senior Party at OJR, then on the 30^th she was with me and my parents to attend stock car races in Hatfield. On the next Sunday, May 31, I spent the whole afternoon with her before attending the Baccalaureate Services in the evening.

With the completion of Baccalaureate Suzy simply disappeared from my life. Between the Baccalaureate Services and Commencement, she returned to Jon. It wasn’t really going to matter to me, because something was going to happen the night of Commencement that would take my mind off Suzy completely.

After the graduation ceremony at Owen J. Roberts on June 2, I was loitering in the hallway. I saw Mr. Elliott leave school with one of the boys from my class, but had no idea where they were going together. It struck me as odd, to tell the truth. I stood and watched them get in his car and drive off. They both seemed happy, smiling, laughing. Perhaps he was simply driving my classmate home after the ceremony, but I have always wondered.

I was about to leave and go home when Dorothea Lederman and her family walked by me. She stopped and introduced me to her mother and suddenly they invited me to join them for a Commencement Party. It surprised me because I was never really in much with Dorothea, although we were friendly to each other and she was part of the little group I often hung around with.

I followed their car out to the other side of Pottstown to a restaurant on Ridge Road called The Lakeside Inn (now known as the Copperfield Inn at Lakeside). Inside I was brought to a long table with a couple dozen people sitting and I was shown a chair right about the center on one side.

There were two older women, somewhat exotic looking, sitting across from me. There was a blond girl with glasses seated to my right. I knew the girl, but only by her face.

One of the older ladies leaned over the table toward me. “You just graduate?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Den vhat you are do now?” She sounded to me a bit like Zsa Zsa Gabor, some kind of middle-European accent. “You go college?”

“No,” I told her.

The girl to my right cleared her throat and the older lady looked toward her.

“Ah yes,” she said with a small laugh. “You know, of course, my niece?”

I nodded yes, but no name would come to mind. “I’ve seen her around school,” I said.

"She play de piano quite vell, perhaps you have heard her.” Said the Aunt. 

       Yes, that was where I remembered her from. She played the piano in the variety show where Ray and I did The Barber and The Boy sketch. What was her name? She co-wrote the class song., “As We Say, Farewell.”

Twelve long years have passed us by.

In our hearts we hold a sigh.

Of the days of toil and pleasure,

Rewards without a measure

As we say farewell to thee, dear Roberts High.***

I knew she was in my class, and although she was also in the Academic Program we had never been in any of the same classes. Frankly, I had hardly noticed her at school. I knew she was one of the quiet people that faded into the background. She wasn’t one of the popular girls. I had never seen her at anything, except for her occasional piano performances. I wasn’t sure she had even been at the prom, and I would learn she had not. She didn’t have a boyfriend and she had very few dates, if any.

We chatted about school and the future during dinner. The woman with the funny accent was her aunt. The other older woman was her mother and she didn’t say much during the evening. Her family had come to America fleeing the Soviet takeover of Latvia at the beginning and during World War II.

At the end of the evening she gave me her telephone number along with her full name, thankfully, Sonja Katherine Kebbe.  She told me I must come visit, that they had a pool and we could swim. I thanked her. I thanked her Aunt, I’m not sure why. I thanked Mrs. Lederman for inviting me. I probably thanked the waiter on my way out. I tucked Sonja’s number in my wallet and came home. I didn’t give her a second thought and didn’t expect I would call her.

I had all but forgotten Sonja by the next day. June 4 was clear, bright and with a temperature of 82. It proved a perfect day for Downingtown where the Class of 1959 was holding their Commencement in the football stadium This is the group I would have graduated with if I had remained in Downingtown, so obviously I knew a lot of the graduates. Ronald Tipton (pictured left), Stuart Meisel, Bill Brookover and several others I had been good friends with were getting their diplomas. My grandmother, mother and I attended the ceremony. Afterwards I visited with Iva Darlington for a while. She also graduated that afternoon.

Both Owen J. Roberts and Downingtown had closed their chapters on the classes of 1959.

Farewell, Frantic Frank; Goodbye, Wild Bill; Rest Well Ye Boyhood Shadows

In our final year the alleged educators deciding our lives tried to guide us on career paths or at least that was their story.  Since my section was part of the Academic program, sans higher math or not, they attempted to entice us with University life by bussing the three academic sections to Muhlenberg College. Nothing against the institution, but why in the world Muhlenberg? I would have thought a State College, West Chester State Teachers College perhaps (Today this is West Chester University). Muhlenberg was a private, Lutheran affiliated school. Separation of Church and State got no consideration, of course.
Really, all I remember about our day trip was a pep rally in their stadium and freshman having to wear little beanies and sing some stupid song. The pep rally was a big deal because they were about to play Moravian, their biggest rivals and located just up the highway on the other side of the Lehigh River. Moravian College was associated with the Moravian Theological Seminary, so it wasn't separated from religion either.

I mentioned this before, but the powers-that-be also took us to the Medical School of Temple University for a day. Wow, from the small to the large, Muhlenberg with less than 2,500 enrollment and Temple with more than 25,000 undergraduates, and maybe 10,000 postgraduates. It was here where Ray and Richard Ray and I wandered up North Broad Street to a little side restaurants to get lunch. Our booth had photographs of operations on the wall. All the booths did. All in living color.

In the spring before graduation,  in our waning weeks, people with portfolios of paperwork came from the Pennsylvania Department of Labor. They ran a series of aptitude tests. Some reminded me of toys you buy for your infants, fit the shape in the proper hole, that kind of thing. They then interviewed us each individually. A man and woman asked me what I wanted to be (when I grew up)? I said, a writer. They shook their heads.

The woman said, “I don’t think you have enough vocabulary to be a writer.”

The man said, “We think you would do best running a machine.”

He didn’t say what kind of machine, a giant shape sorter, perhaps.

Listen Lady, I could find plenty of vocabulary to say what I thought of you two. Maybe I should have gotten a government job like you two where you don’t need hearts or brains, where you smugly try to control everyone else’s life and dash people’s dreams, and then collect a big fat government pension check paid for by other people’s hard work.

The people from the Department of Labor were not aware I had taken a writing aptitude test earlier that year. In August I applied for membership in the Newspaper Institute of America, One Park Place, New York (pictured right) and was required to take a writing aptitude test. I received a letter about the results saying, “For one so young you have done very good work with our Writing Aptitude Test”. They suggested, however, that I “better wait until [I was] at least eighteen before enrolling as a member.”

How words are used, not the number, defines good writing. These Labor Department people didn’t understand this. If “Brevity is the soul of wit,” then it also applies to communicating in the written word. They should refer to what Ernest Hemingway called his best short story.

“For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”

That is it, the whole story. It communicates a lot, as one analysis said, enough for a movie”.

So where did we all go after the days of Frantic Frank, Wild Bill Shakespeare and Gravely & Hearse?

Ray Dillard Ayres, Jr., known as Sonny, came from a family of mixed religions, Protestant and Roman Catholic. He had been raised Protestant, but in the senior year of high school decided to switch to Catholicism. When he began this he also decided he cursed too much. Why this feeling went with becoming Roman Catholic I can’t say. As far as I know Protestants take as dim a view of cursing,as Catholics, some maybe more so. He wanted me to help him stop the swearing habit. He instructed me to swat him on the back of the head anytime I heard him use a cuss word. Loyal friend that I was, I agreed and for a while he took a regular head bashing from me. We did as a result do a lot of explaining to teachers when smack in the middle of a class there would be a literal smack to the middle of Ray’s head.

He did stop cursing.

Ray had put a lot of pressure on himself that year, besides his religious conversion. First, he resigned from the football team. He felt it was interfering with his studies. He was one of the star players and his resignation did not sit well with either the coaches or his teammates. He stood on his convictions. Some of the other players called him names, but he refused to back down. He had enough other activities that he enjoyed more, besides in truth, he could have probably beat up most of the other guys anyway.

He was also the star of the school’s gym show. His best performances were on the ones I couldn’t do, horizontal bar and rings. During the same time he was preparing for the gym show, he was wrestling at the YMCA for a championship. There were two performances of the gym show, once for the students in the school and once for parents and anyone else that cared to come the next evening. Ray did the student’s show in the afternoon of the same day he was in the big YMCA wrestling tournament finals. He went from the school gym to the Y gym. I was at the show to see him, and Peggy, whom I was still dating at that time,  and I went to the YMCA to watch his wrestling. He was tired. He made it to the last match in his weight class at the Y and was pinned. I had never seen him so devastated. You couldn’t talk to him. I am certain he would have won that Y championship match if he hadn’t done the gym show. Sometimes we just put too much on ourselves.

Ray and I were close friends in high school. We helped encourage each other at times. He was the kid in the class everyone liked. He had looks and wit; he was a fine student and an all-around athlete. He was the type of guy people often vote most likely to succeed. We really didn’t have that sort of selection in our school. If we had, Ray certainly would been a top candidate. He was named one of the Class Clowns instead.

After he graduated he seemed to drift, though. In 1964 he remained single and was living in Seattle, Washington. In 1969 he was back in Pennsylvania and married. He was a student at West Chester State College (now West Chester University), where he earned a teaching degree. In 1974 he was in the restaurant business with a brother-in-law named Coffee co-owning The Angus Pub in Birdsboro.  He soon disappeared from that scene when the restaurant failed. After that he simply disappeared for the next 25 years, at which time he showed up as a retired carpenter/chef living in Reading, Pa.

I heard nothing from him or about him in the interim years. When I saw he was back living in nearby Reading, I considered contacting him but as so often happens, I never did. He died in September 2012.

Raymond D. Ayres Jr., 71, of Reading died Sept. 29, 2012, at 7:15 p.m. in Tremont Nursing & Rehabilitation Center, Tremont, where he was a guest since Aug. 19, 2011. Born in Pottstown, he was a son of the late Raymond D. Ayres Sr. and Anna Pauline (Dowhunick) Ayres. He is survived by his companion, two daughters, three sisters and one grandson. Graveside services with military honors in Indiantown Gap National Cemetery, Annville, will be private at the convenience of the family. edited Published in Reading Eagle on October 3, 2012

In the fall after we graduated, Richard Ray Miller contacted me and asked if I would go to Philadelphia with him. He had never been to the city, at least not on his own. He knew I had been and he wanted company, someone who he presumed knew his way around. He was going to the Bell Telephone office to apply for a job as a Linesman.

We took the Reading Train from Royersford to the Market Street Terminal. Although I had no desire to be a Linesman with my acrophobia, I thought it would look better for Ray if I also applied. Potential employers just might have a tad resistance to applicants who com with a babysitter. The receptionist sent us into a back room for aptitude tests. It took several hours. I did very well on the electronic test, but poor on the mechanical test. Ray did badly on both. They turned him down for a job consideration. He was very depressed on the ride home.

In 1964 he was still living at his parent’s home, but there was no other information about him. In 1969 he had a new address, but still no other news. By 1974 he had moved to an apartment in Spring City. He was married with two children and working as a plumbing and heating contractor. In 1979 he was again at a different address with no other information available. By 1984 he had disappeared from view. He died in 1989 at 48 years of age. I heard from former classmates that his life had went downhill and he became an alcoholic, which they assumed contributed to his demise.

My friend Phil Hahn, the big guy who had bloodied my nose wrestling in gym, renewed our friendship for a couple years when he lived in Gibbsboro, New Jersey and my wife and I lived in Pine Hill. He was a large fellow with a gentle heart. (Pictured left Phil and his wife Pam in our 1974 apartment.) He played a roll in our Shakespeare Play. He was an account executive for a funding company. He died in 2009.

The girl who I refused to dance with at a Sadie Hawkin’s Dance married after high school and had three daughters and a son. She died in 2008.

Walter Stanley Marsland III, better known as “Wally Segap”, the boy who almost lost a thumb during the Shakespeare Assembly died in 2000, age 59


.

The giddy girl in the Baby Doll PJs Richard and I "kidnapped" to the Tropical Treat in one of the “borrowed” cars married a fellow classmate. She was a vice-president of a bank for a while, then they moved to Montana where they own two outlet stores. I think they are both retired now.

 

Howard "Homer" Turner was the first friend I made at NORCO High. He remained a member of our "Clown Squad" throughout high school. After Graduation he faded away and disappeared. He died sometime between 1999 and 2009

I do not know of the after school lives of the notorious Q Gang. They all became mote to my life by twelfth grade because they all dropped out of school at age 16. I heard scuttlebutt that they were involved in a riot and knife fight at Sunnybrook Ballroom during one of Dick Clark's shows, but know no real facts.  Now the leader of the gang has went on to own and run a successful business since. So remember, children,  this is what happens when you never pay attention and disrupt every class in school and drop out in eleventh grade, you become a successful businessman.

Gary Kinzey, was one of my earliest friends and after Kindergarten we had an on again off again relationship. He was an electronic wizard and he and I shared a common bond over electric trains. In Junior High School we had a falling out. Later in his life he became a tugboat captain here in Delaware. One evening he came home and said he was tired. He went into the living room, sat down in an easy chair and he never got up again. He was around 70.

Gary E. Kinzey

Age 70, of Wilmington, died on Saturday, October 15, 2011 at his home.

Gary was born in 1941 in Pottsville, PA to the late Ralph and Anne Kinzey. He attended Downington High School and Drexel Institute's Engineering program. He was employed by the DuPont CO. until 1973, then he started Kinzey Insulation. In 1992 he became building inspector and code enforcer for the Town of Newport until retiring in 2001.

Gary's range of interests, knowledge and skills was wide. He could drive anything, build anything, and fix anything. He will be greatly missed.

Gary is survived by his wife of 41 years, Lorraine; his children, Scott, Pam and Adam, and his 4 grandchildren.

Another early friend we discussed in these post was Denny Myers, who lived up the street

from me in Downingtown.  Denny was a close buddy before I moved to the swamp house, no so much when I moved back. He died last year at 73.

Dennis C. Myers of Downingtown

Dennis C. Myers, 73, of Downingtown, passed away on Sunday, September 27, 2015, at his residence. He was the loving husband of Sue Serafino Myers, with whom he had celebrated his 56th anniversary on September 26.

Born in Coatesville, he was the son of the late William Myers and the late Earl and Dixie Shirk.

Dennis was a 1959 graduate of Downingtown High School. After high school he worked for Bell Maintenance Products, retiring as president after 40 years of service. He then went on to work as a sales representative for the Philip Rosenau Company.

He was an avid sports fan and loved watching sporting events. He especially enjoyed high school and college wrestling and he officiated high school wrestling. Dennis also coached little league baseball, Babe Ruth baseball, American Legion baseball and Little Whippets football.

In addition to his wife, he is survived by his son, Mark (Michele) Myers, of Downingtown; daughters, Lori (Paul) Romano, of Downingtown, and Dawn (Frank) Cosella, of Chester Springs; brothers, Michael (Jobi) Myers, of Florida, Stephen (Marianne) Shirk, of Millsboro, Del., and David (Barbara) Shirk, of Nebraska; sister, Tammy (Ray) Houston, of Phoenixville; seven grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren.

He was predeceased by his son, Scott Myers.     

A number of my earliest friends were girls, who lived near on Washington Avenue You saw them over and over in photographs of my pre-school and grade school birthday parties.

Bonnie Lou Walton, who often played in our groups, especially in our evening hide and seek games, died in Detroit, Michigan on March 17, 2010. She was 68. I know almost nothing of her life after our school years. Other than she never married.

Another was Judy Baldwin, a close friend in those days of Iva Darlington. That is Judy just slightly behind Iva in the photo. Judy is making a face. In her later years she developed Alzheimer’s and she passed away in 2012.

Judith Baldwin Nixdorf, 70, of Stacy, died Wednesday, December 12, 2012, at home.

A memorial service will be held at Otway Christian Church on Sunday, December 16, 2012, at 3:00 p.m., with Chaplain Jack Mumford, presiding. Another memorial will be held at The Donohue Funeral Home in Downingtown, PA, on Saturday, December 28, 2012, at 2:00 p.m.

Mrs. Nixdorf was born on January 19, 1942, in Downingtown, PA, to Russell Gibson and Margaret Mae Jamison Baldwin.

She is survived by her husband of 49 years, G. Bruce Nixdorf of Stacy; daughters, Dana N. Reinhart of Coatesville, PA, Lauren N. Riddell of New Castle, DE, and Shannon N. Wright of Stacy, NC; sisters, Lois Sample of West Chester and Eileen F. Buck of Bradenton, FL; and grandson, Leo M. Wright, IV, of Stacy, NC.

In addition to her parents, her brothers, Russell G. Baldwin, Jr. and William F. Baldwin; and sister, Joyce L. Baldwin, preceded her in death.

Her husband, who was another acquaintance and playmate of mine during our boyhoods, died from an accident in 2014. That is Bruce in the white shirt. The woman to his left dressed in black is Judy.

        

Whereas, the Almighty God, in his infinite wisdom has removed from our midst on Sunday, August 3, 2014, one of our beloved brothers and Life Member, G. Bruce Nixdorf, who was always found faithful in the discharge of his duties and whose every thought and purpose was for the welfare of his company and department. And, while we deeply regret and mourn the loss sustained in the death of our late brother, we bow in humble submission to the Divine Will.

Therefore, be it resolved that we, the members of the Alert Fire Co. No. 1 of Downingtown, PA, do hereby extend and convey to the bereaved family and friends our deep and heartfelt sympathy.

Bruce passed away at UNC Hospitals, Chapel Hill, NC after the result of an accident. He was the loving husband of the late Judith B. Nixdorf.

He was born on November 2, 1940, in Philadelphia, PA to the late George E. and Eloise Nixdorf and then moved to Downingtown as a child, and lived there until after his retirement, where he and Judy moved to Stacy, NC with his daughter Shannon and family. Bruce was employed at the Naval Surface Warfare Center in Philadelphia, PA until his retirement, and then he did consulting work.

       

Richard Allan Wilson was the first friend I met upon moving to Bucktown and became one of my closest.

When I got the Belcor Tape recorder for Christmas he and I would spend time making up little plays. Rich proved to be very quick at adlibbing. We did comic interviews ala Bob and Ray, the radio comedians. We called these the “Mike Walrus Interview Show”. Richard got to be such characters as Dr. James Q. Whitemeat and John Cameron Swayback. We never got to perform together in school due to our grade separation.

He sold his $40 car and got a 1955 Chevy after he got his driver’s license. In my senior year he sometimes drove us places. He was always modifying his cars. He was switching the Chevy’s column shift to a floor shift, but had not completed the job. He had to reach through a hole in the floor with a screwdriver to change gears. He did this bent over looking down, not at traffic. Somehow we survived.

Richard served as an usher at my marriage in 1961 and then drifted out of my life. He never reached his dream of designing cars. He died in August 2002 at the age of 60.

I included the death and obituary of Suzy Cannell in my prior chapter. She was not the only one of my girlfriends to pass away. Margaret “Peggy” Whitely has also died, the girl I dated for several month and who bit my thumb at the drive in.

Margaret A. Farling, age 67, died of complications from cancer on Thursday, Oct. 22, 2009. Pegge, as

she is known to family and friends, was a Chester County resident for most of her life. She was a graduate of Kutztown University (BS Education) and Temple University (MA Education) and taught in the Pottstown School District prior to marrying David J. Farling.

After raising three children, Pegge went back to teaching in the Tredyffrin/Easttown School District. She was an avid horseback rider and an active member of the book club at Aronimink Golf Club. She enthusiastically supported her sons’ interest in rugby at Conestoga High School and in their college years.

Pegge and her husband shared a passion for travel. After retirement the two of them set out for adventures through out North America and Europe.

Most recently, she and her husband settled at Waverly Heights where they found many new friends.

Pegge is survived by her beloved husband, David, her children David, Linda Clemons, Robert, their spouses and grandchildren Peri, Sydney, Jeffrey and Hunter.






An era had ended. For one year I was kind of like somebody. With the end of May of 1959 I was Nowhere Man again.