I have always been active. As a child I loved riding my bike and hiking in the mountains. Though I have never been much of an athlete, in the 70′s and 80′s I enjoyed jazzercise, volleyball, biking, and jogging; later I moved on to yoga, tai chi, and Pilates. Then a few weeks ago I fell and twisted my knee.

I found that I had torn the ACL (anterior cruciate ligament) in my knee. This is a tear in one of the knee ligaments that joins the upper leg bone with the lower leg bone and commonly causes knee instability. I think they ought to call it the BBACL (baby boomer anterior cruciate ligament).

The doctor told me that not long ago, ACL injuries had been uncommon for anyone of my age; this sort of injury only happened to people in their 20′s or to people focused on sports, primarily football players. But he said says ACL injuries now are becoming more common in people of my age group, which means, my boomer friends, us. They even call it “Boomeritis,” because we are more active and not ready to sit on the sidelines and watch the world go by. The doc also said that if this had happened to me a few years ago, most doctors would have preferred to just leave it alone. But now they have learned that leaving it can lead to arthritis and the knee would always be unstable and might pop out of joint.

I am lucky that close to where I live there is a state-of-the-art sports injury institute, where I will undergo ACL replacement surgery. I will be in a brace for weeks with lots of physical therapy in the coming months. But that’s fine; I am willing to go through this because I am looking forward to some day climbing around Machu Picchu, taking a walking tour of Europe, or maybe just riding my bike. I have a lot of things to do and am not ready for the rocking chair.

I guess I am a typical baby boomer. More power to us! Better knees, too.

Marcia Barhydt

As far back probably as Year 1 in the workplace, there’s been a conflict between senior management and hot young cannibals new to corporate life. Traditionally, the older, more seasoned employees have been the ones to train new faces.

That was then and this… it seems… is now. Traditional roles are being reversed and we Boomers need to (in Ted Turner’s famous phrase) get on board or get out of the way.

In a recent article in The Wall Street Journal, this new premise was debated, investigated, and tossed around. And once this new concept is accepted, everybody wins.

The trend is most apparent in technology and social media, but encompasses other scenarios, like the advertising industry.

It turns out that this thinking was pioneered by JackWelch when he was a CEO of General Electric and had a 20-year-old mentor toteach him about surfing. Reverse mentoring also has evolved to include, for example, a 42-year-old exec at advertising icon Ogilvy & Mather who says his mentor is showing him how to perk up his humdrum tweets.

Of course, this younger generation doing the mentoring has already exploded to a global level thanks to Skype, videoconferencing and all kinds of virtual communications.

The lesson here is that Boomer execs, or really anyone in any position where younger workers can help, need to be open to and welcoming mentoring from co-workers who are younger than the exec’s own kids.

Now, we Boomers are no slouches when it comes to adapting and escalating our use of new technology. Think tablets, readers, and smartphones that do everything but make your coffee. Boomers are snapping up these new toys like it’s Christmas every day. We truly understand that we need to be on top of all this new technology. Okay, plus it’s fun, fun, fun.

Within many large companies where reverse mentoring is happening, the Boomer execs are wanting to get on board in a sort of “Hey, I want one too” kind of thinking.

Sure, there are hold-outs who cling desperately to the old regime and their old seniority way of thinking. But their numbers are diminishing every day.

We Boomers are once again showing that we’re easily capable of accepting change. No wait, we’re embracing it!

Why doesn’t this surprise me? It’s how we’ve been with every other stage of our lives. Why would we change now? Why would we balk at the idea of reverse mentoring?

Thanks Ted – we’re hearing you. We’re getting on board.

©2012 Marcia Barhydt

Click here for Marcia online.

As I busily wrap the Chanukah gifts for my little grandchildren, I’m suddenly reminded of an event that took place many years ago when my own kids were young. There are inexplicable moments in our lives that seem to take on a mythical quality as the years go by, so that we wonder if they ever really happened. This is the story of one such mystifying event.

Helen Zegerman Schwimmer

It was a few days before Chanukah. I was driving home from the local mall, my trunk overflowing with games and toys for my three children, when the car suddenly slowed to a crawl. I nervously steered it on to the grassy shoulder of the highway and hit the emergency brake. The gas gauge registered empty.

This was back in the days before cell phones, so there was nothing to do but pop open the hood and wait, hoping a Good Samaritan or the highway police would eventually stop. But when the cars continued to whiz by I grew increasingly impatient and decided to hike to the nearest gas station that I had passed about a quarter of a mile back.

“My car ran out of gas on the parkway,” I sheepishly confessed to the gas station attendant.

“Can’t spare anybody right now,” he said. Instead, he offered to fill a two-gallon can halfway and I trudged back down the road, like the biblical Rebecca hauling her jug from the well. It wasn’t until I removed the cap from the can that I realized the spout was missing, so I had no way of pouring the oil into the tank.

As the sun started to sink, so did my spirits. Why me? Why today? Why here on this busy highway that was beginning to feel like a desolate stretch of desert? The answer would arrive shortly.

I watched a battered car pull off the road a few feet in front of me. While a child peered out from the rear window, a young woman emerged from the driver’s seat. She walked purposefully over to the trunk, opened it and removed an object, then turned and came towards me, smiling broadly.

“I bring this for you—you need this,” she said with a Hispanic accent as she offered me the tin can with a spout. Seeing the look of amazement on my face she explained, “I carry this for emergency.”

I had always assumed that angels commute via their wings. So I was totally unprepared for this modern-day version that drove up in a Chevy. I silently accepted the container, unscrewed the spout and poured the liquid from my can into hers and then into my tank. The whole procedure took only seconds.

“Thank you,” I murmured gratefully as I handed back the empty can. Before I could offer her any reward, she hurried back to her car and just as mysteriously as she had arrived, the stranger drove off with a wave.

I turned the ignition key, relieved to hear the familiar hum of the engine and steered my car back onto the highway. And just as the last ray of light left the sky I headed towards home, glowing from the gift that was worth so much more than the gasoline I had just received.

Follow Helen online … click here.

“Friends are those rare people who ask how you are and then wait to hear the answer.”
(Author unknown)

I just caught “The Social Network,” the movie about Mark Zuckerberg and the launching of his website that would become “Facebook” which as we all now know, revolutionized social media and the way we communicate. Truthfully, I rarely feel the need to share the boring minutiae of my day or post my latest pictures, but that being said, I tapped into this “Facebook” frenzy anyway, in part because of my irrational fear that as an aging boomer I have to secure and increase my dwindling circle of friends. After entering all the necessary information to create my profile, I set up my wall (personal page) listing my interests, hobbies, favorite movies and TV shows. I felt excited and eager to sit back and reap the rewards and experience the fun that is “Facebook.”

Wendy Shade

I’m still waiting.

A few months on Facebook and my opinion of it is not unlike that of Betty White when she appeared on Saturday Night Live in May 2010 and became the oldest person ever to host the show. It garnered SNL its highest ratings. The movement to commandeer Betty was started by a Facebook group. Betty White herself at that point had never heard of Facebook and in her deadpan monologue mentioned that now that she does know what Facebook is, “I have to say, it sounds like a huge waste of time.” She went on to say that although she has heard that Facebook is a great way to connect with old friends, if at her age she had to connect to her old friends, she would need “a Ouija Board.”

I have often wondered what happened to some of my childhood friends and now, with the mere click of a “friend request,” I could probably find out. I had images of me and some long lost friend exchanging witty Facebook messages, followed by warm dinner gatherings, laughing over shared memories, lamenting the passing of time, and commiserating over those we’ve loved and lost. This tender Hallmark moment is brought to you by my wishful overactive imagination!

I have searched my high school yearbook for names of friends who I wouldn’t mind reconnecting with, only to discover that they do not exist. Now, being a boomer, I’m not sure if it just means they are not a part of Facebook or worse yet, not among us period! This is why having a large pool of friends is so vital. But, what I’ve discovered is that making new friends is not such a simple endeavor and as we get older, our opportunity for finding them can sometimes prove to be a little more challenging then you might think.

Since my mom’s passing more than a year ago, I have felt this loss twofold: I lost my mom and my BFF best friend forever! I have found that during the course of our lives, friendships go through transitions. When things were getting more challenging for my mom, I spent more time devoted to being with her, and less time making plans with my friends, and in return, some of those friendships faltered under this neglect while others thankfully only got stronger and solidified.

So I joined the much venerated Facebook with good intentions. I “friended” those contacts who told me they were on Facebook and once I had access to their information, took notice of their friend count. I reacted with immediate shock and awe and admittedly maybe a bit of envy. “Facebook’s very premise—and promise—is that it makes our friendship circles visible.” (William Deresiewicz’s essay on Faux Friendship) What I could not get over was the cosmic size of some of these crop circles!

And apparently I am not alone in my thinking. Deresiewicz further explains in his essay: “The Facebook phenomenon, so sudden and forceful a distortion of social space, needs little elaboration. Having been relegated to our screens, are our friendships now anything more than a form of distraction? When they’ve shrunk to the size of a wall post, do they retain any content? If we have 768 “friends,” in what sense do we have any?” As time went on, I noticed that although I was leaving some messages on a few people’s Facebook pages, I wasn’t getting any substantive responses back, and what I was getting was so joke-laden and filled with abbreviations, acronyms, and cryptic words, it just left me feeling “vry” (very) “dfik” (darn if I know) frustrated!

I recently deactivated my account. I thought Facebook might somehow magically lead me to new meaningful friendships. But I realized I am more into Face-to-Face than Facebook. I’m not saying it isn’t a useful tool for those who do find it entertaining and satisfying, but for me, I crave eye contact, immediate reaction, and the gratification of hearing a chuckle when something funny is actually uttered. I am grateful for the friends I have and hope that they all stay healthy and around for a very long time. New friends are wonderful, especially if you can find them and the friendship develops and forms naturally. But “friending” is just not for me nor I guess is Facebook. I think the sagacious Betty White had it right!

Since I’m a boomer who is trying her hand at various creative entrepreneurial endeavors, I read with interest an article in a Sunday New York Times written by Harvard economist Edward Glaeser. The article was entitled, Goodbye Golden Years, a title sure to elicit fear in those of us hoping to retire at some point during the next ten years or so.

Liz Kitchens

And, Glaeser did not disappoint. His piece was filled with statements and statistics such as the following: “Retirement seems out of the question for increasing numbers of Americans who are saddled with debt and whose savings evaporated during the recent bust.” And, “Many older workers keep working because they feel they can’t afford not to. Nearly 40% of 55-64 year olds don’t have retirement accounts. The median net worth of this age group is now $254,000. Americans save less than 4% of their income; thrifty Germans save 10%. A nation that prefers spending to saving is going to find it difficult to enjoy a comfortable retirement.”

He goes on to talk about our parent’s generations, The Silent Generation and the GI Generation. According to Glaeser, 47% of 65-plusers were in the labor force in 1949; by 1993 that number had shrunk to 16%. Our parents enjoyed a retirement scenario unprecedented in our history, and one that may not be available to us. Potentially depressing thoughts, I agree, but don’t despair; did we ever really envision ourselves just playing golf or bridge five days a week? Okay, so maybe one or two days a week. But not fulltime; we are the Baby Boom generation! We strive for meaning in our lives, whether that meaning takes the form of career opportunities or social causes.

I can’t imagine not being productive, not contributing, not making my own money. Glaeser suggests America needs more entrepreneurship and we are at a juncture in our lives to provide it. West Palm Beach, Florida, a retiree haven, has the highest self-employment rate of any metropolitan area in the nation, consistent with other areas in the country attracting older Americans. Self-employment makes sense because it allows for more control over working hours and conditions. And our generation loves control.

Some of us have spent years waking up at 6:00 AM to be at a job we found depleting. If we are to work for years to come, let’s make it work on our terms. Here are a few suggestions.

• If you want to enjoy a high quality of life from now until you’re 90, exercise, because it is a critical component. If you have not already done so, it’s time to develop an exercise plan; join a YMCA or other gym; walk or ride a bike. Rather than having to fit your exercise schedule into your work schedule, allow your work to accommodate your exercise so you don’t have to be going to the gym at 5:30 in the morning.
• Choose an enterprise that fits your circadian rhythm (internal clock), one that allows you to arise and go to bed at a time best suited for you.
• Delve into your psyche through journaling or quiet reflections; explore what you have a passion for. You may want to undergo a personality assessment to discover a field that suits you.
• As important as anything, make it fun. We are the generation that invented rock and roll. We like to have fun. Now is your chance.

Happy planning.

Follow Liz online … click here.

Beware the barrenness of a busy life.
~ Socrates

I am an out-of-work baby boomer. We are hardly the first generation to suffer these levels of unemployment, but it feels different now, because we live in a world where if you are not seen juggling several challenging tasks at once, you are seen as being unwell, unproductive, lazy, a selfish-no-good-pariah! This is how I have been made to feel as I navigate my way for the first time in my 49 years finding myself unemployed.

Wendy Shade in September 2011 showing off her flower arrangements at a craft fair at Quinn Farms, Quebec.

Which contributes to a real malaise of spirit. I am no expert, just a simple baby boomer. But what I see in today’s “Gotta have the latest gadget!” society is that people feel a need to appear more important and busier, that no one wants to admit that perhaps maybe they are not so much either of those things.

I’ve been employed for the past 20 years by the renowned McGill University but on the first of September, our 1,700 non-academic support staff voted in favor of striking. I did not think the strike would last this long. I thought it would just be a one-day show of solidarity, disapproval, and disappointment that our demands for job and salary parity — which have been ongoing for several years — have not been met or even taken very seriously. Now, as with the “Occupy Wall Street” protesters, it looks like we are in this thing for the long haul.

Now, as this strike lingers and I find myself having no job to attend, no awaiting projects or tasks piling up on my desk, no reason to tell friends that I’m “so busy,” I decided to come clean and embrace the truth of my newfound situation.

It’s not easy to admit that you’re not “busy” and actually have spare time in today’s high speed over-achieving world. These words are seen in the same vein as “I have warts.” As if they should be uttered in a dome of shame and silence. Friends ask how I spend my day, and I have to wonder, am I going to make stuff up or do I tell them the truth? An image of me sitting on a park bench and feeding the pigeons appears. I try to push this out of my mind and end up reluctantly mixing the truth with a dash of exaggerated details. I mostly tell them that I’m doing things in the house that I’ve never had a chance to do before, like preparing and cooking a hot meal and having it ready for my husband when he gets home from work.

I haven’t morphed into some “Mad Men” or “Stepford” version of a housewife, though; I’ve been careful to explore only a few of these old-fashioned concepts. I haven’t welcomed my spouse home in Saran Wrap, yet! But I have been doing a lot of laundry, and keeping the house neat, clean, and cozy. And I am trying on for size the notion of being kinder, gentler, and not snippy and bitchy. I am not sure if this is tied to having more time or just feeling for the first time in my life that I need and want to change.

Where as I used to wake up and rush through my morning routine and curse at the numerous new creases on my face, I now wake up and smooth over these fine lines with wrinkle cream and the knowledge that this is all part of getting older. It is all part of life. And that maybe this new phase in my life is not really all that bad and I need to embrace it positively. While I do find myself lately channelling the Dalai Lama and feeling more “Zenlike” and less “CNN” frenetic, I know this time will not last. But for right now, I’m learning to enjoy the simple pleasures of not doing all that much and being okay with it.

I am so busy doing nothing, that the idea of doing anything — which as you know, always leads to something — cuts into the nothing and then forces me to have to drop everything.
~ Jerry Seinfeld

Why Ecuador? Of all the places I researched when thinking about making a change in my life, this is the country that appealed to me the most.

I was already familiar with Spanish-language countries; I had lived a happy, interesting, and contented life in Mexico since I was 40 years old. However, after 25 years as a single female expat, it was time to move on. As more and more baby boomers looked to Mexico as their retirement haven, too many gringos moved in on my little pueblo on Lake Chapala. Finally, we even got a Walmart in town, and a casino.

While obtaining a “retirement” visa was easier in Mexico, it had to be renewed on an annual basis with an annual fee. In Ecuador, the “pensioner” visa is a one-time proposition. I had to prove sufficient income once and only once, and now it seems I’ll be welcome here in the town of Cuenca forever.

Single life in Cuenca is an easy transition. Since most expats have not been here for long, they seem open and friendly and welcoming of new arrivals. There are many other aspects of life here that I consider good and valid reasons to choose Ecuador as a good place to relocate. I find a lower cost-of-living than in Mexico and certainly in the U.S. It’s lower for everything from utilities, groceries, nightlife, cultural events, and local transportation. I don’t even own a car anymore, so I have no auto maintenance headaches, gasoline costs, nor license and insurance expenses.

Medical costs are lower too. I have already had an experience with a porcelain crown at a cost of $400 and a gall bladder sonogram for $35. A visit and follow-up care with an opthamologist was $25, and the cost of prescriptions is lower than even Mexico.

Of course there are pros and cons to living in any foreign country. In my case, I find airfare back to the U.S. is costly, as are imported food, and health and beauty items. I am learning to substitute more affordable local products.

Weather is a big factor of living in Ecuador. Some may not like the cooler temperatures at higher elevations. We have sunny days but cool nights in Cuenca. The coastal areas on the Pacific Ocean may appeal more to those who don’t like the sound of that.

While Ecuador may not have the infrastructure and services of the better-known retirement destination of Mexico, it offers me some of the greatest natural gems in the world including the Amazon, the Andes, the Galapagos Islands, cloud forests, volcanoes, and more than 600 species of birds. Since the country is about as large as the state of Nevada, it’s possible and affordable to travel and get to know all parts of the nation. The biodiversity is as staggering as the scenery.

I never lack for interesting options for sightseeing, either: colonial cities, lakes, ruins, hot springs, waterfalls, national parks, cobblestone streets, town squares, handicrafts, and traditional celebrations. All in all, my move to Ecuador and my new life here among approximately 500 expatriate residents was the best decision for me.

You might be interested in the video I worked on that was shot in Cuenca this year by Michael Karsh. The subject is what life is really like for expats who live here. There is no advertising, real estate promotion, nor financial advice, just plenty of practical information, plus interviews with expats like me.

Steve Jobs once said:

Here’s to the crazy ones, the misfits, the rebels, the troublemakers, the round pegs in the square holes… the ones who see things differently — they’re not fond of rules… You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them, but the only thing you can’t do is ignore them because they change things… they push the human race forward, and while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius, because the ones who are crazy enough to think that they can change the world, are the ones who do.

Jobs was one of us. He was a baby boomer, just like the past few presidents, Bill Gates, and many other leaders in the digital era and captains of industry … and just like many of us, in some respects.

Let us not forget that America’s largest demographic group – baby boomers – has reshaped the country for better or worse. But Jobs was different. He was unlike any of his peers in technology or corporate America.

While others in technology were and still are caught up in the machinations of tech stuff, Jobs knew that the only thing that really mattered was how we might perceive and value his innovations. He dreamed, questioned, challenged himself and others … and gave the country and the world good things intended to bring value to our lives.

Jobs said, “A lot of companies have chosen to downsize, and maybe that was the right thing for them. We chose a different path. Our belief was that if we kept putting great products in front of customers, they would continue to open their wallets.”

Many of us learned of his passing on one of his technology devices.

Jobs grew up in the pop culture of the San Francisco area and was shaped by the free-thinking liberalism dominant there in the 60s and 70s. He dated Joan Baez, tried LSD and kept emotional ties to the period in which he grew up. Viewed as a corporate outsider, he built Apple in the reflection of his unconventionality.

Jobs became wealthy through his inventions, ownership of Apple, Disney and Pixar. Yet, in today’s world defined by corporate greed and corruption, Jobs was again different. He focused on the idea of “taste.” It was a word he used often. Jobs crafted his genius and lasting legacy through the distinctive simplicity, elegance and taste he insisted on in every Apple product. And, his focus has changed the world for the better.

Addressing a graduating class at Stanford in 2005, Jobs seemed to foresee his own destiny:

“Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life.”

Throughout my life, I’ve been fortunate to be able to reinvent myself when I had to. After my marriage ended; when my kids went off to university; when I lived on my own for the first time in my life; when I retired from a 32-year career; when I started dating again at 62.

Marcia Barhydt

Thank goodness I was able to do it with ease because reinvention is something all of us face many times in our lives, never more than now that we’re in our 50s and 60s.

It used to be that a person retired from a decades-long career with the same company, accepted the silver watch, and spent the rest of her time in the rocking chair. Waiting.

Now, we boomers are reinventing the face of retirement, just as we’ve reinvented the face of so many other traditions during our lives. We reinvented our sex lives with the birth control pill; we reinvented our work lives by moving from one career to another; we reinvented our pre-set concepts of minority groups and sloughed off our ill-placed prejudices; we embraced ‘free love,’ hippiedom, and flower power; some of us burned our bras and some burned our three-piece power suits. We soared to the moon with Neil Armstrong; we descended to the depths of despair after JFK’s and Martin Luther King’s assassinations. And we kept changing, reinventing ourselves and our lives and our worlds after each event.

So now here we all are, newly retired, or close to it, looking at the next stage and realizing that yet another reinvention is at hand. No rocking chair for us, no-sirree. We’re going to move on, start new, search for the next phase, the next chapter in our lives. And, just like Slim Pickens riding the A-Bomb in Dr. Strangelove, we’re whooping with joy for the whole ride!

We’re starting out on a whole new journey, trying something new, putting a new spin on something old, maybe even finding our dream.

Actor Slim Pickens rides an A-bomb in the film, Dr. Strangelove.

We need to make some decisions about how we’ll choose to reinvent ourselves physically, too. One of our most challenging issues is accepting the changes to our bodies. It’s essential that we’re happy with our bodies and minds for this reinvention.

Many men have concerns about their physical appearance as they age, but we women have a much heavier burden because of our “young is beautiful” culture. We all need to accept, even embrace, the changes that are happening to our bodies.

Women have a hair color issue. And a facial skin/wrinkles issue. And certainly a body issue. We make choices about accepting ourselves and it’s a very personal choice with the correct answer being this: the answer that’s correct for each of us personally.

Do we color our hair or let the grey grow in? Do we accept the new lines in our faces or diminish them with lotions/injections/surgery? Do we allow increasingly saggy muscles or attack our bodies at a gym?

I now have the ability to reinvent what really counts in the way I look. Color does not make a bad hair day. Frame of mind does. Acceptance of physical change IS my reinvention of myself; acceptance of aging is my reinvention of the soul. I’m pretty sure about who I am no matter how I change physically.

I think that all of us have an incredible ability to experience life, to embrace it or reject it, to take the best for ourselves from it, to pass on our wisdom to our family, friends, colleagues, and even strangers, to allow our experiences to shade us and to influence our choices and to color who we’re becoming because of these experiences.

I’m reinventing my own wheel. Join me.

© Marcia Barhydt, 2011

Brooklyn P.S. 100. Helen Zegerman Schwimmer is in the first seat, far right, of the second row across. (with neckerchief).

It’s been 53 years since Miss Arlene Lichterman’s class at Brooklyn’s Public School 100 performed “The Wizard of Oz,” and on a recent evening, Dorothy, Glinda, the Good Witch (me!), the Tin Man, the Scarecrow, and several lesser citizens of Munchkin Land feted our fifth-grade teacher at a reunion dinner in Manhattan.

And it was easy to put together. Because while the technicolored Glinda relied on a pair of ruby red slippers to reunite Dorothy with her family back in Kansas, this tech-savvy Good Witch double-clicked on her mouse and gathered together our little theatrical family for the Wizard of Oz reunion.

We who grew up in the fifties are now retirees in our sixties, profoundly aware that our personal Oz was part of a cherished era that today exists only in our collective memories. That’s why for some of us, in spite of dimming eyesight, thinning hair, and a slower gait, we were eager to revisit the enchanted landscape of our childhood once again.

Helen Zegerman Schwimmer is seated, second from left. Teacher Arlene Lichterman, standing fourth from left.

Our journey down the yellow brick road began on the steps of P.S. 100, located on the edge of Brooklyn’s Coney Island. It seems an appropriate metaphor for the paths our lives have taken over these fifty-plus years.

More than just a building of brick-and-mortar, our neighborhood school was a second home where our youthful dreams were encouraged to flourish. For an immigrant child like me, it was a magical place where learning the requisite 3 Rs segued naturally into singing, dancing and make-believe.

We were a talented group of children from diverse backgrounds, long before diversity became a buzzword, deliberately kept together since first grade. My acting credentials were firmly established in Mrs. Reilly’s 3-1 class when I starred in the title role of “The Princess in the Rose Colored Glasses.” By fourth grade I was already typecast, reprising my role as a princess in “The King’s Creampuffs.”

Helen Zegerman Schwimmer as Glinda the Good Witch is seated far right.

My best friend, Nancy Kornspan, a.k.a. Dorothy, and I were Judy Garland wannabes who managed to convince our parents to enroll us in a children’s acting school. We never did make it to the big or even the little screen but decades later, we watched in amazement as our former teacher, an out-of-work actor, became famous as the popular television detective Kojak. He was Telly Savalas.

One of our own, Scarecrow Mitch Margo, did achieve celebrity status and made his TV debut on American Bandstand. A songwriter and entertainer, he and his older brother Philip founded the singing group The Tokens, best known for their hit, “The Lion Sleeps Tonight.” Their mom, Ruth, now in her nineties, accompanied her son to the reunion. Responsible for creating many of our costumes and scenery when we were kids, she was representative of the stay-at-home moms who were such an indispensable part of our elementary school experience.

Helen Zegerman Schwimmer (right) and teacher Arlene Lichterman

Miss Lichterman, the teacher, was young and energetic, quick to recognize and nurture her students’ talents. But time has also proven her prescient in her casting choices. The intellectually-challenged scarecrow grew up to develop the Margoreader, a valuable learning tool that Mitch has made available online, free, to teach children and adults to read. Tin Man Saul Gorman, a kind-hearted, gentle soul, became a psychiatrist who is guiding others to find their way. Munchkin Alan Epstein, one of the tallest boys in the class, founded his own architectural firm specializing in restoring New York City landmarks. His appreciation for the historic carried over to his wedding when he insisted that the classic “Somewhere Over The Rainbow” accompany him down the aisle.

As for our missing cast members, although we found the Wizard, true to form, he chose not to cross the Rubicon, or in his case, the Hudson, to see us. And because he had such a common name, try as we could we weren’t able to locate the cowardly lion. John King, where are you?