Eleventh Annual Greater Marist Family Spirituality Weekend
Marcellin’s ‘Beatitudes’ and His Happy Gang
Marist College July 8 – 10, 2005
Prayers and talks will focus on themes emphasized by Father
Champagnat. In the evenings we will celebrate our friendship and
camaraderie – in memory of the good times Marcellin and his classmates had
while in the seminary. Speakers for the weekend include: Br. Brice
Byczynski, Dr. Martin Lang, Br. Vito Arresto, and Br. Joseph Belanger.
Meals, insurance and fees: $120 per person; housing: single occupancy, two
nights with linens: $75 per person; double occupancy, two nights with
linens: $135 per couple. To reserve a place, send a $25 deposit to Maurice
Bibeau (4 Van Wert Place, Hyde Park, NY 12538; 845-229-0879). Make the
check payable to the Marist Brothers.
Registration begins on Friday, July 8th at 4:00 pm in the Rotunda, Student
Center at Marist College. Dinner is at 6:00. The weekend ends Sunday, July
10th at noon. Participants are encouraged to attend the celebration for
Br. Joseph Belanger’s 80th birthday until 3:30 pm. Please come and renew
the Marist Spirit with us.
* * *
The GMC Picnic at Mount St. Michael will be held on Saturday, September
your calendars. As is our custom, bring your own beverage and a potluck
dish for a shared meal. People generally arrive around noon and stay until
about five pm. As in other years, the picnic will be held rain or shine.
Continue the tradition!
From WILLIAM QUINN ’44 (David Marcellin): It was with
heavy heart that I read of
the passing of Br. Patrick Eugene and Br. Simeon Gerald. Br. Patrick and I
were in the Novitiate in 1943-44. He was a novice and I, a postulant.
Whenever we met all the years after I left, he always took time to talk
and inquire about my well-being. As for myself, I am doing well. I was in
Rome in 1999 for Father Champagnat’s big day and had a wonderful time. In
2001 I spent eighteen days in Russia and went back again in 2003. What a
beautiful country! On March 21st I retired after twenty-four years of
government service. To all the monks of the United States Province: “Many
years.” (143-15 26th Avenue, Apt 6C; Flushing, NY 11354-1759;
From BILL DESCHENE ’53: Just felt a hankering to get in touch with
cabin fever, I guess. We occasionally return to what is referred to as the
“real world” participating in peace demonstrations and vigils with the
Eastern Maine Peace and Justice Committee in Bangor. They are a fine group
of the most unlikely people you would expect to be standing against the
tide. You get the feeling that they know that someday the tide will be
reversed and there will be peace and justice in the world. We like their
spirit. I have enclosed a few fond recollections of some of the old
Brothers. I always liked the old people. Somehow, I feel related to them.
Maybe that’s why I’m so anti-modern.
I remember vaguely a course given on the lives of the early Brothers as
part of the training we received in our novitiate years. The modeling that
was supposed to be given by these biographies was concretely enhanced by
the living models of the older Brothers who made up the bulk of the
novitiate staff. Sometimes, without any forethought, their words and
example help me get grounded when upset or stay grounded when at peace.
Recently, when I spilled half the juice needed to make five gallons of
banana wine, I let out a scream that would have made any Penobscot or
Passamaquoddy take notice. The mess that had to be cleaned up, plus the
several bottles of really fine wine that would not be made – aargh! As
Margie helped calm me down, Br. Paul Acyndinus came to mind. That little
Brother, who looked like the original Sleepy of the Seven Dwarfs, stood
there in my mind, with his arms folded and his hands tucked into his
sleeves, his droopy eyes resigned to his “imperfections” – a little “poof”
came to his lips: “If you don’t do anything, you won’t do anything wrong.”
Br. Paul had told us to fill as many pots of water that we would need for
supper as he was going to fix the pumps that brought us delicious well
water during that Saturday’s work period. No problem. Trouble was, he
forgot to turn on the pump when he finished his work. Scullery was delayed
and the regularity of the schedule was disrupted. Horrors! Hence, Br. Paul
was duly reprimanded, and we received those words of wisdom. (184 Bryant
Ridge Rd, Grand Falls Plantation, ME 04417)
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Rene Lozada ’58: died 27 December 2004
From the EDITOR: Rene came to the Novitiate in Tyngsboro along with
Bernardo Ortuoste and Felipe Cruz from the Philippines. Despite the fact that
cultural adaptation was difficult for him, his classmates remember him for
his hearty laugh and a heart that went along with it.
Eugene Connolly (Kieran Matthew ’44): died 3 March 2005
From BR. KEVIN O’NEILL ’53: My niece had Dr. Connolly at Northern
Community College in Haverhill (MA). She sent me this note: “Hi, Uncle. I
just read in the paper that Dr. Eugene Connolly died on March 3rd. I
remember writing you about him and that you knew him. I had him for only
one semester and have to say he was the best instructor of all that I’ve
had. He had such a wonderful way of teaching. Sue.”
to view obituary page for Gene Connolly.)
Br. James Redunski ’68: died 11 March 2005
From TOM POTENZA ’73: Jim had spent his entire religious life in
the diocese of
Newark, working in a number of the Catholic high schools as a teacher,
counselor, and administrator, as well as in the superintendent of
education’s office. He was a Bayonne boy who never wandered far from home
and suffered from various ailments in recent years. Jim had a witty
personality and wry humor that was not lost on his Brothers – especially
during the years of great change in religious life and Marist life.
Br. John Cherry ’59: died 28 March 2005
From BR. JOHN MC DONNELL ‘59: Bigger than life – one of a kind – a
John Cherry marched to the beat of a different drummer. Surprised smiles
would always fill a room as John entered, shouting your name, enveloping
you in a hearty, heartfelt bear hug. John Cherry made me laugh. Not polite
giggles but rib-tickling, side-splitting, breath-taking belly laughs that
got both of us through our comps at the University of Notre Dame. How I
loved you, John Cherry! (firstname.lastname@example.org)
From BR. JOHN DUNNING ‘63: John blazed a trail with the Lay
expanding Marist community and our understanding of collaboration. His
optimism was often indomitable. If he was dismissed as naïve or as a
Pollyanna, he wasn’t discouraged. He knew his heart early on in life and
followed it steadfastly. As a pastoral minister, his own back problems
helped further sensitize his understanding of suffering and made him an
even more compassionate person. He accompanied our friend, Br. Ronald
Marcellin, at the end of his long journey with cancer. John lightened the
load for countless others in his years as a guidance counselor and
pastoral care minister. Through it all, his love of life, people, laughter
and music was contagious. When John sang “The Impossible Dream,” he shook
the room. The world is a better place because of you, John. You’ve reached
your star; may you rest in peace with the Lord.
From BR. MICHAEL SHEERIN ‘74: John was always a pleasure to be
with, and I’m
grateful I was able to grow through these past thirty-five years with a
mentor and friend like him. John was always there to listen to my
impossible dreams. I miss him. May he rest in peace. (email@example.com)
(The above three comments were excerpted from the April-May newsletter of
the United States province of the Marist Brothers. Editor)
From JOHN O’CONNELL ’58: In our less mature days in Tyngsboro we
John as “Modesty-of-the-eyes Cherry.” However, John did have a significant
influence on us, and he was destined to be a helpful and affirming
influence on the many whose lives he touched.
From TOM FAHEY ’58: I remember Br. John Cherry from 1956; a tall
always smiling and so gentle. May he rest in peace. I look forward to his
welcome one day, not too far down the road, along with Vinnie Hall, Bill
Reffelt, and so many wonderful humans…saints we have known! (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Special Remembrance: Some of us found out about the effect of a tragedy on
community in McMechen, West Virginia, through an article appearing in the
New York Times (written by Alan Feuer) on Wednesday, May 25, 2005.
We offer our prayers and deepest sympathy for the families and friends.
There were two empty chairs among the rows of seniors graduating from
Bishop Donahue High School on Tuesday night. Instead of being occupied by
two young women in polyester robes, they were draped with white cloth.
The graduates who should have sat there, Danielle Block and Jo Beth Marie
Gross, both 18, died on Saturday in Brooklyn when their single-engine
sightseeing plane dropped from the sky above Coney Island and crashed on
“This is no doubt a night of mixed feeling for you, for all of us,”
Brother Rene Roy, the principal, told the graduating class. “We are
attempting to make the sun break through the clouds of sorrow. We will all
rise again as a family stronger than ever in the values that really
Bishop Donahue had only 80 students, and before graduation many gathered
in the rain, drawn to the makeshift shrine that had grown in the last few
days. There were teddy bears and flowers, candles and some hand-written
cards. There were a basketball and a baseball bat attesting to the young
women’s athletic prowess. There were a pen and a dog-eared notebook
alluding to their love for classes at the school.
“The school itself is paying for the funeral arrangements,” Brother (Dan)
O’Riordan said… Brother O’Riordan took the podium at one point to announce
that Ms. Gross had just won the Bob Shaw Memorial Service Award and Ms.
Block, the Father Raymond Jablinske Memorial Scholarship.
“It’s their graduation,” he had said that morning. “It’s more important to
celebrate their lives than their deaths.”
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From PATRICK GALLAGHER ‘53: To the many who never knew Bill Sears (Msgr.
Sears and formerly Br. William Mary ’52) they missed a unique experience,
for his rather gruff exterior hid a great heart. While I spent four years
combined in the juniorate, novitiate and college following him, after
being out of touch for close to thirty-five years, he walked back into my
life in typical Bill Sears fashion. I had written to Marists All about
having the “B and B” in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, and it
happened that I drove up to the old general store that now served as a
post office. (The gas pumps outside, long unused, registered 28 cents per
gallon.) I started to enter the store, when a bearded guy standing there,
in sharp tones said: “Where in the hell is the damn Wild Geese Inn?”
Startled, I turned toward him and noticed something familiar in the eyes.
He then slapped me on the back and said: “Bill Sears, remember?”
Well, he came back to the place, and along with another couple, friends
from Texas, decided to stay the night. Just before dinner, he asked
whether he could say Mass at the dining room table. He asked Les’s wife if
she were Catholic, and she said no. “Do you love God? Do you love Jesus?
Do you love your neighbor?” Positive answers were enough for Bill to give
her First Holy Communion. Her husband, raised a Catholic, had some
problems and to Bill, they were minor. Just the five of us participated in
this wonderful Mass, and then dinner. Afterwards Mary, my wife, and Bill
spoke to Les for close to two hours, sparking Les to say later that it was
one of the most moving and intimate times in his life.
When they left, Bill talked more about himself: his ordination in 1962 and
his work in the Brooklyn diocese. Vietnam was the issue at the time; we
were sending more and more troops over there, and Bill wanted to join as a
chaplain. The diocese balked at this, so Bill’s answer was that if they
didn’t let him join as a Navy chaplain, he was going to enlist as a
“grunt.” The diocese relented and Bill spent two tours in Nam. His time
there came to a halt one afternoon when a number of Marines were
critically wounded in the jungle. When a call went out for a minister, a
Presbyterian chaplain started getting ready. Since the other chaplain was
married and had a family, Bill offered to go in his place. They reached
the Marines and started transporting them back on an Armored Personnel
Carrier. A mine destroyed the vehicle, killed the Marines and seriously
wounded Bill. One of the medics reaching the scene examined Bill and said
to his companion: “Get a body bag for this one!” Another medic intervened
and saved Bill’s life.
We stopped a couple of times in Englewood (FL) where Bill spent the last
ten or so years of his life, on a street named for him: “Padre Lane.” On
one occasion, Bill, knowing that because Mary’s first husband was still
alive when we were married in 1980 in a civil ceremony, decided to give us
a “church wedding.” So, at his kitchen table, Bill went through the
Catholic marriage ceremony for us, and we went out to a local restaurant
for our reception where everyone seemed to greet him with, “Hi, Padre!”
Mary and I regarded him as a unique person who cared so much for others,
who was impatient with anything or anyone that stood in the way of helping
others. He was a good, caring priest, a warm and committed person, and a
remarkably true Marist in his spirit through all the experiences of Nam,
the military, high school teaching in Florida, parish work and the loving
attitude he had toward all in his community. (P.O. Box 310, Springtown, PA
18081; 610-346-7463; email@example.com)
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From ROBERT SCHMID: It is with great sadness that we note the passing of
Murray. In September of 1967, five scared young men began a lifetime of
commitment at 4821 South Ellis Street in Chicago. Four graduates of the
charter class of Marist High School – Brice Byczynski, Mark Hirschman,
John Murray, and Robert Schmid – were joined by recent Marist College
graduate, John Scileppi, for an adventure in inner-city religious
formation. The house on Ellis Street was owned by the Archdiocese of
Chicago and had once been the residence of Chicago mayor Edward Kelly. The
house was located in the Hyde Park/Kenwood area of Chicago, the home of
the University of Chicago. The Black Muslim headquarters was two blocks
away on Woodlawn Avenue. Our local parish of St. Ambrose was home to
Father Andrew Greeley. Our neighborhood was one of the few integrated in
Chicago in the mid 1960’s. We had no idea the effect our religious
formation and this haven for free thinkers, communists, and other
undesirables would have on our personal development.
To guide us on this adventure were Br. Patrick (Martin) Harte, Br.
Lawrence Keogh, and Australian Br. Ronald Fogarty. Later in the year
Matthew Snowden joined us. We made note of the fact that Martin Harte,
Matthew Snowden, and Pius Xavier (first principal at Marist High School)
were all members of the same group. We “affectionately” referred to them
as Matty, Patty and Pi.
John Murray was the theatrical member of the group. Brice was the jock.
Scileppi was our intellectual and pharmacist. Mark saw the world through
the lens of his camera, and my role was to keep Pat Harte busy at the
Scrabble board. He slaughtered me almost every time that we played.
During our Christmas break in 1967 we drove east to visit our confreres in
Tyngsboro. We stopped at Mount St. Michael en route and had a free day to
tour Manhattan. Murray was dying to see a Broadway play, but some of the
more obstinate members of the group, including me, did all we could to
thwart his wishes. Now, thirty-eight years later, we wonder why we didn’t
each go our own way.
The spring of 1968 saw the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King and a
period of heightened tension in our integrated neighborhood and the
surrounding ghetto through which we needed to travel to commute to school.
That summer we worked in the recreation program at St., Ambrose. Murray
put on a mini Hello Dolly production while Brice, Mark, and I played ball
with the kids on 47th Street.
These things all come to mind now that Murray has left us. Mark, John
Scileppi, and I had left religious life. But those years did leave a
lasting mark on us. Murray’s passing reminded us all that we are still
brothers. John Scileppi is on the faculty at Marist College and very
active in the Marist community. Mark is engaged in the counseling
profession and on the faculty at a nursing school in Milwaukee. I “help”
people as an auditor for the IRS but continue to do my spiritual reading
by teaching CCD classes. With these early formation stories in mind, we
remember Murray and offer thanks for his presence in our lives.
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(From the EDITOR: You may have been following John O’Connell’s efforts to
bring together those who were in the juniorate and the novitiate back in
the late ‘50’s. He initiated the new terminology of “big B” and “little b”
B/brothers and set up a specific e-mail address for the large volume of
correspondence: OBbWAT@aol.com. The acronym stands for Oh, B/brother,
Where Art Thou? The following communiqués concern some recent meetings on
the West Coast as well as at Esopus. After the California trip, Oke sent a
short message: “Stupendous California “gatherings”: in memoriam, Vinnie
Hall and Bill Reffelt.”)
From RON PASQUARIELLO ’57: If observed by the Cotati (CA) police, the
incident would have been reported as follows: Thursday, March 10, 2005, 6
pm, a tan pick-up truck with Arizona license plates pulled up in front of
the residence of Ronald Pasquariello. Four senior males jumped out of the
truck, wrapped their arms around Mr. Pasquariello, and forced him into his
house. Later that evening, neighbors reported a loud bang emanating from
said residence, along with sounds of shattering glass. Pasquariello was
held captive for two days. No ransom demand was made.
“A good time was had by all,” is the way it would have been reported in
The Angelus, erstwhile juniorate newsletter. The “all” in this case were:
Oke O’Connell, George Conboy, Bernie Ortuoste, Richie Shaw, and I. And the
good time was a day and a half of eating, touring, and reminiscing at
Pasquariello’s house in Cotati (CA) just south of Santa Rosa in Sonoma
They had driven seven hours north along California’s superhighways.
Pasquariello spent the day blowing up air mattresses, baking bread,
brewing tomato sauce, defrosting meatballs, assembling dessert.
Immediately on their arrival, we began to recollect. Charles Schultz
(native of Sonoma County) once said: “Just remember, once you are over the
hill, you begin to pick up speed.” We proofed that statement. Who knew
reminiscing could be such a wonderful experience? It expands one’s being
and brings out dimensions of one’s self that have been submerged for years
by one’s own personal selective amnesia.
It was forty-six years or more since Pasquariello had seen these folks.
And they were a sight to behold. But his dog Chipper loved them anyway.
One of the first things Richie Shaw (who grew up within a few blocks of
Pasquariello in the Bronx) offered is that he had his first bagel at Ron’s
house on a visit from the juniorate and has been eating them ever since.
Ron cried a little, finally realizing that he had made a difference in
We chit-chatted into the wee hours of the morning, piggy-backing on each
other’s memories, riding herd on the long-winded, batting stories around,
eventually going off to count sheep after we got dog-tired. Most of the
stories were humorous and reminded us how much fun our lives were
together. Some memories were momentous. All made an impact. One of the
many observations: the high degree of marital longevity among, not only
those present, but also all former Marists in general. Someone ought to
take a survey. Another: the aptness of Champagnat’s perspective for
guiding one’s life: humility, simplicity, modesty – very Buddhist!
And we had, literally, a shattering experience. At the beginning of the
first evening, Ron had a fairly large coffee table in his living room,
with twelve pieces of ceramic on it. He had dusted off a bottle of
champagne to celebrate the reunion. Busy listening and jabbering, he let
the bottle of bubbly slip from his hand. He immediately found out that the
tabletop was made of safety glass. It shattered into a thousand small
pieces (which Ron is still busily gluing back together). Ron now has a
whole batch of chipped ceramics to dispose of as Christmas presents!
On Friday Richie woke everyone with a Laudetur, Jesus Christus. Oke
intoned the Salve Regina. George intoned the solemn Salve. After breakfast
we toured wine country and took in the captivating Sonoma Coast. Upon
returning we continued to eat and drink and walk the talk. The four mighty
Marist marauders took off on Saturday morning to repeat the road show at
Kevin Finn’s, south of San Diego.
Just think, if it weren’t for reunions like these, we would go through
life thinking we were perfect young gentlemen; that we had not made a
difference. We would go through life forgetting how much we owe to one
French priest and his followers. (8550 Larch Avenue, Cotati, CA
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From GREG BALLERINO ’57: Time Travel! Round trip! March 13, 2005. All in
one day: what an experience! Newport Beach, CA to Esopus, to Tyngsboro, to
Poughkeepsie: a non-stop adventure with delayed action episodes revisited
and re-lived. Never did I think I would or could find my way back there.
But today I did!
“Oke” O’Connell, George Conboy, Bernie Ortuoste, Richie Shaw and Kevin
Finn created a safe place so that I could return to visit Richard
Ballerino (Dickie Bal, as some called me). It was safe enough to look at
and experience feelings still rooted in the teenage years at Marist Prep.
I could not go back forty plus years and judge my possible relationships
at this gathering through the eyes of an adolescent. So I let the memory
be just that: a memory. Today I could relate to these men as I am,
accepting them as they are. No checklist, no remarks, no faults, and no
hidden agenda. What a relief: each of us seeing the other as if for the
first time. Each of us authentic.... We no longer had to project the
“image” of a Brother. Rather, we are once again brothers on a cellular
level that grew from the Marist Prep experience.
Long ago, it seems in reflection, it was so important to adopt the “image”
of a Marist Brother. That meant a deliberate, careful deconstruction of
each one’s personality to become the larger-than-life historical “image”
of Marist Brother. For those of us experiencing adolescent crisis of
self-esteem and weak self-image, adopting a new Marist image – one valued
for its spiritual personality and not its human personality – offered
hope, escape, and a future with purpose.
But back to the journey of that day: The truck had just pulled into the
garage at Kevin’s waterfront home. When I stopped in front of the garage
George and Richie turned, smiled and came to the car window to greet me.
Wow! Who were these men? I remember them as mere teenagers. The sound of
each voice connected me with the teenage image I remembered. Now I saw and
heard that voice come from a man in his sixties. Time travel – forty plus
years – in an instant!
It didn’t take long to realize that we all connected on such a deep level.
Not even forty years absence could have broken that link. What was
happening to me, to us? Oke had called me out of the blue, sent me an
e-mail to announce his West Coast trip with George and the planned meeting
with Richie, Bernie, and Kevin. I was invited to join them. Why did they
want to see me? During those early years I felt unknown, unrecognized and
tried so hard to fit in. Why reach out now? All my mind-chatter judgments
didn’t matter to these men. We were all there together on Kevin’s boat and
they wanted to hear what I had to say. Not only did I want to speak, but I
also wanted to hear their voices and their stories. And so it happened. I
relived highlights of the past forty years. And they did too. Pauses,
questions, laughter, more stories, anecdotes, more laughter, sober truth
of loss, failures and successes: the more we talked, the more I felt
loved, accepted, and respected “as is.”
Long ago, each of us silently slipped away to an unknown adventure. Usual
social courtesies like, “Good-bye, good luck…I’ll miss you…take care…keep
in touch if you need anything” didn’t happen. It was never part of the
Marist training. As each of us spoke, I felt more proud to know these men
today, more concerned about them, more willing to be a friend and adopted
brother. What a gift I received!
For dinner we met at Kevin and his wife Madeline’s home. They treated us
royally in the most elegant home I have ever visited. Kevin and Madeline
opened their hearts to us and gave us a safe place to be, to talk, to eat,
to laugh, to ask questions, and to be heard.
At one point in the evening, Madeline asked what prompted us to join the
Brothers and not become priests? As for me, I never wanted to become a
priest. From my initial experience at St. Ann’s Academy, it was the model
of a young man, energetic, intelligent, friendly, caring, teaching,
belonging, living life with a purpose and career – that’s what I wanted to
become. In time, I learned that there was more to the model of Marist
Brother. The other parts of discipline, denial, religious life, giving up
ownership of anything material, sublimating the feelings of anything
sexual, accepting and blindly following authority, would now shape my most
vulnerable adolescent formative years. And I survived it!
Late in the evening I said goodbye. Not wanting to leave, not knowing if
and when I would see any of them again, I promised to renew contact. I
experienced both closure and a beginning. On the two hour drive home my
mind couldn’t leave the safe place of love, friendship, caring,
acceptance, and mutual respect that I lived the past ten hours with Oke,
George, Bernie, Richie, Kevin, and Madeline. I traveled back in time to
Esopus, to Tyngsboro, to Poughkeepsie, and found the adolescent Richie
Ballerino. Now I can embrace and love that young adolescent, forgive the
adult Greg that made so many assumptions and had judged him critically. In
these final years, I will live with the fullness of who I was, who I am,
and who I will become. Thank you, my brothers.
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From JOHN O’CONNELL‘58: The Third Annual “Oh, B/brother,Where Art Thou”
gathering was held in Esopus, April 8/9/10 dedicated to the memory of Br.
John Cherry ’59, RIP, who was to be among us that weekend, but not “just”
in spirit, and of b. Vinny Hall ’58 RIP (whose “anonymous passing
stimulated our search for those once pre-screened for us to join with in
friendship, now a friendship of over four decades, and of b. Bill Reffelt
’58, RIP (whose last months among us prompted so many of us to re-connect
and acknowledge this special bond of friendship as the gift it most
certainly was, and still is. The “OB/bWAT” grouping is primarily composed
of those of us who actually lived together, especially during our
formative years in “training,” but also “out” in community, excluding no
one who shares our interest in re-connecting these many years later, a
most amazing transcendence of 40+ years. Anyone interested in obtaining an
updated “directory” of the high school grades of ’56, ’57, ’58, and ’59,
who either became, or almost became Marists, e-mail
Gathering together in April were: b. George Bagnell ’58 (NY); b. John
Brady ’57 (NJ); b. Jerry Byrne ’59 (NJ), B. Nick Caffrey ’57 (NY); b.
George Conboy ’58 (AZ); B. Joe DiBenedetto ’59 (Esopus); b. Don Edwards
’57 (CT); b. George Farrell ’59 (NY); b. Jim Friel ’54 (NY); b. Jim Gargan
’59 (NY); B. John Herrmann ’59 (NY); b. Pete Kuveke ’58 (FL); b. John
McGalagly ’59 (NY); b. Paul Maloney ’59 (MD); b. Pat Murphy ’58 (MD); b.
Jim Murray ’55 (NY); B. John Nash ’59 (Poughkeepsie); B. Don Nugent ’59
(Esopus); b. John O’Connell ’58 (ME); b. Bernie Ortuoste ’58 (CA); b. Joe
Picciano ’59 (NY); b. Vin Poisella ’58 (NJ); b. Bob St. Amand ’58 (NJ); b.
Bill Shannon ’58 (NJ); B. Jim Stevens ’59 (Poughkeepsie); b. Russ
Therriault ’58 (FL); and b. John Wilcox ’57 (CT); brothers all! (15 High
Street, Boothbay Harbor, ME 04538)
From JOHN BRADY ’57: A word about the April 9th OB/bWAT gathering in
The whole atmosphere was one of respect and appreciation of each other.
Everyone was caring, supportive, and genuinely comfortable with each
other. That said so much about us as individuals then and now, and about
our common experience and training as Marists over forty years ago. (3
Brookside Avenue, Hazlet, NJ 07730-2224; 732-739-3911; firstname.lastname@example.org)
From GEORGE BAGNELL ’58: When first meeting some of my B/brothers, only a
few were recognizable to me. After all, it has been forty years of
receding hairlines and expanding waistlines. But as soon as I heard the
voices, saw the smiles and the look in their eyes, old acquaintances were
instantly renewed. The weekend was filled with the sharing of one’s life
history over our separated years – stories of school assignments, jobs
we’ve had, families we raised. There were many reminiscences of our shared
times in the past, mixed with a lot of laughter and some tears. We all
shared a sense of revival, a renewed bond of togetherness, friendship, and
ONE BROTHERHOOD. I truly mean it when I say that it is really great to be
back with you guys once again. (email@example.com)
From DON EDWARDS ’57: The OB/bWAT “gathering” in Esopus over the April 9th
weekend was very special, and our lives are richer for it. The mutual
friendship of the little b’s and big B’s is a gift of the Lord Himself. I
still get teary-eyed thinking of some of the life stories. We never know
what people carry in their hearts and souls. The command of the Lord that
we don’t judge one another becomes more meaningful each day. My life is
richer now because I walked away from our gathering feeling affirmed,
realizing how hard we all are on ourselves: and yet we live deeply
spiritual lives. This is the Spirit that binds “Marists All,” even when
some don’t know it yet. I can’t continue right now because of the depth to
which I have been moved by the weekend’s celebration of lives and
From BR. HANK HAMMER ‘75: I was reading the February
Marists All recently
a bit behind!) and read about David Kammer’s Christmas message and the
e-mail he received from “Doris” to “Carmel.” “Doris” is Doris Reischach,
the secretary in the Province Office, and Carmel is her friend. Doris is a
wonderful lady to work with. She was very impressed with the Christmas
(Continue to remember in your thoughts and prayers: Br. Denis Hever.
Barney Sheridan, Don Schmidt, and all those who are called to share in the
Passion. And thanks to all those who made written contributions to this
issue of Marists All and to those who sent a check to cover expenses: Bill Deschene and Pat Keilty. The next issue should appear in early September.
Please write! Editor)