I remember Tali well—she was my first date. A beautiful, tall young woman from Israel, she had a quick wit and a snappy comeback for every bit of teasing I threw her way. I was smitten.
We went to the Winter Wonderland dance in our junior year and had a wonderful time. Afterwards, we became friends, sometimes going ice skating—a novelty for a girl from Israel. She was a terrible skater, and I never learned Hebrew, so we were even. Neither of us shone in math, either.
In our senior year, we sat side by side in Ms. Simpkin’s “Geometry for Dummies” class, spending far more time joking than learning. Our seat assignments were changed more than once.
I never saw her again after 1970. She returned to Israel; I began my own path. On November 28, 1977, she died. I learned of her passing from a neighborhood friend who had also known her.
Today, leafing through my yearbook, I found her signature:
“To my first date… in this country, with lots of love. Tali”
Steve Pittleman
I remember Tali well—she was my first date. A beautiful, tall young woman from Israel, she had a quick wit and a snappy comeback for every bit of teasing I threw her way. I was smitten.
We went to the Winter Wonderland dance in our junior year and had a wonderful time. Afterwards, we became friends, sometimes going ice skating—a novelty for a girl from Israel. She was a terrible skater, and I never learned Hebrew, so we were even. Neither of us shone in math, either.
In our senior year, we sat side by side in Ms. Simpkin’s “Geometry for Dummies” class, spending far more time joking than learning. Our seat assignments were changed more than once.
I never saw her again after 1970. She returned to Israel; I began my own path. On November 28, 1977, she died. I learned of her passing from a neighborhood friend who had also known her.
Today, leafing through my yearbook, I found her signature:
Shalom, my friend.
Oren Kaplan
On the eve of our 50 year reunion; fond memories of the way we knew you: