A. Higginbottom
Subject: Walker-Gordon Dairy
Email: sarahgutch@yahoo.com
I have one vivid memory of visiting
the Walker-Gordon
Dairy, seeing the cows file onto
a sort of
carousel to be milked.
The latest issue of the New Jersey
Audubon
magazine has an article on page
2 describing
the Dairy's history, because
the family has
donated the land to NJ Audubon
for its Plainsboro
Preserve facility.
The article isn't on-line, but I found another
one http://www.pacpubserver.com/new/news/1-10-99/walker.html with a photo of the "rotolactor"
that I remember.
Anyone remember going on this
trip?
Abbie
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The night we painted the over pass from BB
to SBB not only did I almost get
hit by a train, but my friends
and I got
paint all over the inside of
my
mother's car. She was pissed.
After avoiding
injury we looked at our work
only to find out that I wrote a backwards
"J" in my initials so I had to
do
it again. We were one of the last classes
to paint "Class of----" and I
must say we did a fine job. We
used a roller
and paint brushes to cover all
previous entries. Check out the
chronicle
around 1988 for a large picture.
Dave Jones BBHS1988 TSC1992
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I remember the morning crew in the cafeteria
at BBHS. Everyday before homeroom
there
was our "crew" - Stephanie,
Jay,
Dave, Jeff, Jennifer(me), Lisa,
John, Brian,
Kelly, Cara,and Amanda. Without
fail, we
were always there together to
start our day
with previous nights stories
and plenty of
laughs. Who's dating who, He
said that about
who, what did she do?
Jennifer McCarthy 1997 |
Back in 1968, we were desperate to fill a
hole on the Op-Ed page of the "Searchlight." I was asked to
write a letter to the editor. I did so, complaining
about the sorry state of the boy's locker
room, specifically complaining about the
offensive smell and about people picking
up "plantar's warts" from the unsanitary
state of the showers. The letter ("Get
a Wiff of This") generated considerable
attention, and the Searchlight's faculty
advisor, Ms. Susan Hill (does anyone know
if she's still in Washington DC?), suggested
that I "fess up" as the letter's
author. On my way to Mr. Reynold's office
to reveal my identity, I decided to check
out the locker room once more. It was utterly
spotless and smelled more like an operating
theatre than the grungy place it actually
was. On consulting with one of the editors
(Rick Karney), I decided that the letter
had achieved its aim, and that there was
no point telling the administration that
I was the author.
Joe Perone
j_perone@hotmail.com
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