Serge was one of my best friends in high school. He went on to UCSB where we lost touch for awhile, with my other buddy, Bob Bradford, but I always will remember the fine times we spent in each other's company during high school, with him teaching me folk guitar and banjo, which he played quite well. Records of Peter, Paul and Mary, and the Weavers, amongst others, were what we sang to.
I think he was born a bit odd, and always seemed to come up with an alternate point of view, refreshing and thought provoking.
A very bright guy, who seemed to like the more unusual pursuits, kind of left me looking normal by comparison with my own odd distractions in the drama department with teacher Russell Doughten, to keep me sane.
I remember the rules about the girls' dress code while the boys could wear shorts. I wrote an article on the nonesense of this in English class, and got an "F" on the essay. Everyone else wrote essays about lame things, and got along just fine. But not me. She told me to write another essay about another subject. So, I wrote another essay on why it was stupid to get an "F" on the prior essay and got a "B" I think. The English teacher was a young spinster, somewhat new to the faculty.
I don't think I would have quite made it out of high school in South Pasadena's cultural narrowness without the comfort, support and true friendship of Serge Matlovsky. He loved me and I loved him right back. We never had to say anything about such things, but we just knew it and that was good enough.
He died suddenly of a stroke while driving alone on a lonely mountain road in the Santa Barbara foothills some time ago. I went to the funeral, and it seem surreal. They said it seemed like he pulled over all of a sudden, then died in the driver's seat on the side of the road. Quickly and quietly, no drama, no pain, thank goodness. That's where they found him.
He harmed no one that I know of. Didn't have an ounce of ego or selfish pride in his makeup.
I think he deserved more time in this life than he got. He was genuinely a good man, and I was proud of him and all of his many and wonderful foibles.
With Serge, there was no such think as politically correct. With him, everything normal was INcorrect. He pursued his own reality, and if that didn't fit in with you, well, that was just fine, too. I think he liked being quirky, just to irk people who were too set in their ways and too certain with the ways things should be.
I still think of him and wish he were around to share our life experiences as we might have grown old as friends. I guess I miss him still.
I remember Serge from being in Chemistry together. He was so bright and funny, and so "up". We didn't stay in touch but he was someone I would have liked to reconnect with; I was shocked by his death and the lost opportunity of knowing him better.
For two years in junior high school, Serge and I were demonstrators in ballroom dancing at the War Memorial Building. We didn't see a lot of each other after that, but in high school he lived a few doors from me on El Cerrito Circle, so close to school that we could go home for lunch.
Serge's father was an engineer (or something like that) and was an early proponent of seat belts. Serge and his brother Navarre and sister Noelle were all known by their middle names. (Weird thing to remember.) Mr. and Mrs. Matlovsky went ballroom dancing every weekend. I remember her resting up to go dancing after a hysterectomy.
I am truly sorry about Serge and hope that he found great happiness. He was one of a kind.
I didn't know Serge, but I remember him well. He was always upbeat and had a happy, warm greeting for me when we passed in the halls or had a brief conversation. He scared me a little because he was so bright and had a very different take on the world than my conservative view point.
I too hope he found love and contentment during his brief life. I think that he probably touched more people with his infectious smile than he imagined.
I knew Serge when he started at Oneonta in 5th grade. We were both in Mrs. Horn’s class.
I remember him from Jr. High. He and his parents liked to square dance. One afternoon Serge called my house to ask if I would like to go dancing. What he never knew was that I was home alone at the time. I pretended to ask permission from my parents, and accepted the invitation. I was all a-twitter about going out on what I considered my first date as I bathed, and got ready. I called my grandmother to tell her what I was doing, and left a note for my folks. When his parents drove up and Serge came to the door, I answered it, turned to say “Bye” to an empty house to make it seem my parents were there, and joined him and his parents in the car.
Square dancing can be fun, and challenging. My first “date” was the last time I actually ever square danced. He asked me again, but I was never able to oblige. Hope you are do-si-doing in heaven, Serge :-)
Thomas Kalajian (1963)
Serge was one of my best friends in high school. He went on to UCSB where we lost touch for awhile, with my other buddy, Bob Bradford, but I always will remember the fine times we spent in each other's company during high school, with him teaching me folk guitar and banjo, which he played quite well. Records of Peter, Paul and Mary, and the Weavers, amongst others, were what we sang to.I think he was born a bit odd, and always seemed to come up with an alternate point of view, refreshing and thought provoking.
A very bright guy, who seemed to like the more unusual pursuits, kind of left me looking normal by comparison with my own odd distractions in the drama department with teacher Russell Doughten, to keep me sane.
I remember the rules about the girls' dress code while the boys could wear shorts. I wrote an article on the nonesense of this in English class, and got an "F" on the essay. Everyone else wrote essays about lame things, and got along just fine. But not me. She told me to write another essay about another subject. So, I wrote another essay on why it was stupid to get an "F" on the prior essay and got a "B" I think. The English teacher was a young spinster, somewhat new to the faculty.
I don't think I would have quite made it out of high school in South Pasadena's cultural narrowness without the comfort, support and true friendship of Serge Matlovsky. He loved me and I loved him right back. We never had to say anything about such things, but we just knew it and that was good enough.
He died suddenly of a stroke while driving alone on a lonely mountain road in the Santa Barbara foothills some time ago. I went to the funeral, and it seem surreal. They said it seemed like he pulled over all of a sudden, then died in the driver's seat on the side of the road. Quickly and quietly, no drama, no pain, thank goodness. That's where they found him.
He harmed no one that I know of. Didn't have an ounce of ego or selfish pride in his makeup.
I think he deserved more time in this life than he got. He was genuinely a good man, and I was proud of him and all of his many and wonderful foibles.
With Serge, there was no such think as politically correct. With him, everything normal was INcorrect. He pursued his own reality, and if that didn't fit in with you, well, that was just fine, too. I think he liked being quirky, just to irk people who were too set in their ways and too certain with the ways things should be.
I still think of him and wish he were around to share our life experiences as we might have grown old as friends. I guess I miss him still.
Tom Kalajian
5-16-09
Mimi Hennessy (1963)
I remember Serge from being in Chemistry together. He was so bright and funny, and so "up". We didn't stay in touch but he was someone I would have liked to reconnect with; I was shocked by his death and the lost opportunity of knowing him better.Jean Pennington (1963)
For two years in junior high school, Serge and I were demonstrators in ballroom dancing at the War Memorial Building. We didn't see a lot of each other after that, but in high school he lived a few doors from me on El Cerrito Circle, so close to school that we could go home for lunch.
Serge's father was an engineer (or something like that) and was an early proponent of seat belts. Serge and his brother Navarre and sister Noelle were all known by their middle names. (Weird thing to remember.) Mr. and Mrs. Matlovsky went ballroom dancing every weekend. I remember her resting up to go dancing after a hysterectomy.
I am truly sorry about Serge and hope that he found great happiness. He was one of a kind.
Berit Lee Jacobson (Kinter) (1963)
I didn't know Serge, but I remember him well. He was always upbeat and had a happy, warm greeting for me when we passed in the halls or had a brief conversation. He scared me a little because he was so bright and had a very different take on the world than my conservative view point.
I too hope he found love and contentment during his brief life. I think that he probably touched more people with his infectious smile than he imagined.
lee Jacobson
Karen Goeken (Simons) (1963)
I knew Serge when he started at Oneonta in 5th grade. We were both in Mrs. Horn’s class.
I remember him from Jr. High. He and his parents liked to square dance. One afternoon Serge called my house to ask if I would like to go dancing. What he never knew was that I was home alone at the time. I pretended to ask permission from my parents, and accepted the invitation. I was all a-twitter about going out on what I considered my first date as I bathed, and got ready. I called my grandmother to tell her what I was doing, and left a note for my folks. When his parents drove up and Serge came to the door, I answered it, turned to say “Bye” to an empty house to make it seem my parents were there, and joined him and his parents in the car.
Square dancing can be fun, and challenging. My first “date” was the last time I actually ever square danced. He asked me again, but I was never able to oblige. Hope you are do-si-doing in heaven, Serge :-)