newsletter_may2010

VOLUME TWENTY FOUR, NUMBER FIVE

MAY 2010

Earth Day turns work into fun Nancy Harris (right) and Jack Carson (below) were among 15 residents who turned out to prune, dig, and plant in celebration of Earth Day April 22. One group spread chips and pruned branches along the trail on the hill in the Wheeler Woods, while another team planted perennials, shade-loving and deer-resistant, along the trail in the Vale.

Photos by Louise Hughes

Plot revealed, Rosie exposed, Mr. Markle pleased A homemade rhinoceros as well as an Easter bunny joined Dining Room Supervisor Samantha Mohan (top left) at the Mansion Maitre d’ desk April 1. Top right, about-to-be diners Helen Stephens (left) and Doris Mohn think about sampling the dish advertised as Ragout of Rosie the Rhino; at left, April Fools’ Day Conspirator-in-Chief Alvan Markle III actually ate some and liked it. P.S., it was buffalo.

Photos by Christine Johnson-Hall

INSIDE: Letters to the editor . . . . . . Page 2

Beaumont honors staff . . . . Page 3 Passover begins. . . . . . . . . Page 4

A teacher remembered . . . . . Page 5 Do you feel lucky? . . . . . . . Page 7 On Security patrol. . . . . . . . Page 8

Dear Editor:

one girl skidded, fell off, and was injured. A car stopped and volunteered to take her and her bike down to the hospital in Aix-les-Bains.

The rest of us continued, somewhat intimidated. At the bottom, our companion, Maurice Combe, volunteered to hunt for a farm where we could spend the night in a barn. I biked off to the hospital, retrieved the wounded girl, found the group, did some rudimentary food shopping, and settled in for an uncertain night.

Next day the only news was that occasionally a train came along. We heard that there were throngs of people at every station.

We bid Maurice good-bye with real gratitude and joined the mob at our station. I managed to check the bikes, but we each had heavy backpacks and sleeping bags and not much money. I told my group that when a train did arrive, it was everyone for herself—sauve qui peut.

There was no way that I could help each one of them get on board. It was an uneasy several hours until a train, already packed, arrived. Everyone rushed for the coaches, and amazingly all of us got on. We sat on our bags in crowded aisles and cheered that all of us were there.

—Ann Louise Strong

Betty Miller’s story of disaster averted reminded me of a somewhat similar experience of mine in 1953. I was leading a group of 10 16-year-old girls spending two months in France with The Experiment in International Living.

We had completed our month’s homestay with families in Orléans and were to spend a few days biking, two weeks climbing in the Alps, and a final week in Paris. We and our bikes reached our Alpine destination on a local bus. It was a tiny village near St. Jean-de-Maurienne, home to a small, primitive camp offering inexpensive vacations principally to French factory workers from nearby cities. Most were men, most were either Socialists or Communists. We were an exotic addition, not entirely welcome, particularly since the girls preferred sitting in the sun and polishing their nails to climbing.

All went passably until a day or so prior to our departure when, seemingly out of nowhere, workers from the trains, buses, banks, and post offices went on strike. We had train tickets from Aix-les-Bains to Paris.

What to do? Accompanied by a kind and generous man who needed to return to his job, off we went down the Alps by bicycle. It was a scary ride. Part way down,

Dear Editor:

saw the villain land. Splendid bright yellow legs and claws, serious black talons. A full-breasted body (well suited for strutting) and a gorgeous golden-brown tail.

It circled, snatched up the little bird as soon as it had expired, and soared away, displaying a magnificent wingspan of fully four feet.

A hawk, to be sure. A sharp-shinned hawk, almost certainly.

—Liz Dornberger

Every so often in warm weather there is a distinct thud on one of my windows, on the third floor of Baldwin, where the building is L-shaped. Greasy wings have left an imprint on the glass. White, wispy under-feathers waft up to the terrace, and sometimes a sparrow or little house finch lies stricken below.

There’s a villain abroad!

On a recent day, while its prey was still twitching, I

The News invites letters from readers, including nonresidents. Letters will be published or not, in full or in part, at the discretion of the editors. Letter-writers are asked to please:

BEAUMONT NEWS The Beaumont News is published by the residents and staff of the Beaumont Retirement Community, 601 N. Ithan Avenue, Bryn Mawr, PA 19010

1. Confine subject matter to articles that have appeared in the News (past News issues are on file in the Library).

2. Keep letters under 300 words–the shorter the better.

Managing Editor

3. Sign your own name, though requests for anonymity in print may be honored.

Editor Emeritus and Historian

Production Editor New Residents Editor

E-mail letters to Mary Graff at graffs@msn.com (home) AND mgraff@beaumontretirement.com (office); hand in at front desk, or mail to Beaumont at 601 N. Ithan Ave., Bryn Mawr 19010. Letters need not be typed (though typing is appreciated), but please write as legibly as possible and include your phone number (for the editors’ use only).

Medical Advisers

Mary Graff Christine Johnson-Hall Louise Guthrie Jean Kirk Dr. Jay MacMoran Dr. Herbert Diamond

Photo Editor Events Manager Proofreader

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Louise Hughes Kim Norrett Jennie Frankel

Beaumont honors staff for 10, 15, 20 years of service Hill family marks 70 years combined

By Mary Graff When soups on the menu at Beaumont reap compliments, which they very often do, Chef Mark Robison is quick to pass many of them on to Barrington Hill, a souschef who was among nine employees honored for their many years of service at a luncheon celebration here March 23.

It was Mr. Hill’s 20th anniversary, but the event turned a spotlight on a family with a combined history of 70 years at Beaumont, which is now in its 22d year.

Mr. Hill’s daughter Althea, a Licensed Practical Nurse in the H e a l t h Center, with 10 years Sous Chef Barrington Hill, celebrating 20 years at Beaumont, with daughter Althea Hill, LPN, a here, was nurse in the Health Center, celebrating 10 years here. also honored Mary Wells at the lunch, and Althea’s mother, Dolores, a Certified Nurse and two other family members were cheering from the Assistant in the Health Center, with 21 years. wings: Dining Room Manager Steve, Althea’s brother, The other honorees, alphabetically in their with 19 years at Beaumont behind him, and Steve’s categories:

For 20 years: Rachel Debus, Accounting Clerk; Maritza Farquharson, Registered Nurse; Anita Phillips, Certified Nurse Assistant; and Mary Wells, Director of Human Resources.

For 15 years: Susan Robinson, Licensed Practical Nurse.

For 10 years: Roel Dixon, Prep Cook, and Isabel Walsh, Registered Nurse.

Photos by Louise Hughes

IN MEMORIAM Mr. Leroy Lewis........................April 18, 2010 Dining Room Manager Steve Hill with his mother, Dolores Hill, Certified Nurse Assistant in the Health Center. Steve will be a 20-year honoree next year; Dolores celebrated her 20th anniversary last year.

Members of the Beaumont Community extend their deepest sympathy to his family and friends.

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Seder marks beginning of Passover

By Dick Maass

As one of the non-Jewish guests at the Passover Seder held here in the Rogers Room March 29, attended by 25 residents in all, I can attest that the event was a great success.

While deferring to Eli Burstein for a formal explanation (see below), I can report that while I was told that the menu had been somewhat modified from the strictly traditional, the food was delicious. A chicken liver paté platter with lettuce, tomatoes and onions, as a preSeder appetizer, was followed by readings from a specially designed Mini-Passover Haggadah, written entirely in English, that featured key elements of the traditional Seder.

The Seder meal itself came next, consisting of gefilte fish with horseradish, chicken soup with matzo balls, chicken in apricot sauce with redskin roasted potatoes and asparagus, stewed fruit in meringue shells, and traditional symbolic “charoses”–chopped apples, nuts and cinnamon. There was plenty of time for conversation as well as prayers. And since Beaumont’s resident wine expert Dr. Herb Diamond had helped in the planning, appropriate wines enhanced the meal.

As Dr. Burstein explained the Passover Seder, for the benefit of anyone who needed an explanation: “Passover is a biblically mandated holiday which begins at sundown on the 14th day of the Hebrew

(lunar calendar) month of Nisan. The Passover Seder is a Jewish ritual feast that marks the beginning of the Passover holiday. (Seder, pronounced sayder, means order, arrangement.) Unlike the many Jewish holidays that revolve around the synagogue, the Seder is conducted in the family home. It is derived from verses in the Bible: Remember this day in which you came out from Egypt, out of the house of slavery, for by a strong hand the Lord brought you out of this place. No leavened bread shall be eaten. (Exodus: 13.3) . . . And you shall tell your son on that day, “It is because of what God did for me when He took me out of Egypt.” (Exodus: 13.8) “The Passover Seder has been a primary vehicle for the transmission of the Jewish faith from one generation to the next, and from grandparent to child. Attending the Seder and eating the flat, thin, unleavened Passover bread (matzo) is a widespread custom in the Jewish community, even among those who are not religiously observant, and it is performed in much the same way by Jews all over the world.

“The Passover Haggadah contains the narrative of the Israelite exodus from Egypt, special blessings and rituals, commentaries from the Talmud, and special Passover songs. Each participant receives a copy, and in some homes participants take turns reciting the text.”

An idea to shake up the milk industry

By Dr. Dean Snyder

of miles every day to get to market–in trucks that are being returned empty.

More concentrated milk would mean lower production, transportation, fossil fuel and other costs. But would limiting the cow’s water intake produce more concentrated milk? No. When a cow is deprived of water, she simply lowers her output of milk that is still 87 percent water.

The female camel, however, in times of limited water intake, just naturally produces condensed milk.

There is no hope, of course, that a mere cow can be made to do what the camel does. It must have taken eons of time to create today’s camel. But let’s not dismiss the obvious. Why not bring the camel herself from the deserts of Arabia and Africa here to us?

Beyond the potential economies, camel’s milk is revered in some parts of the world as a potent patent medicine, useful in the treatment of a number of maladies.

Is it possible that some day a camel in every back yard will replace that chicken in the pot?

Dreaming “What if . . .” is my specialty.

What if our modern dairy cow could be made to produce condensed milk? Read along with me, and let’s dream together.

Fluid cow’s milk is 87 percent water. Government regulations, land prices and labor costs have driven the Northeast dairy industry south to Florida and Georgia. From California the industry has fled to Texas and Arizona.

The result: Millions of gallons of milk containing 87 perWhy does this lactating Arabian she-camel cent water and look so smug? What can a she-camel do only 13 percent that a cow can’t? (OK, a cow can’t produce nutrients are being a baby camel, but that’s not the answer we hauled thousands want.)

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A teacher–and a lesson–remembered

By Peggy Campolo

when things changed for Henry. Mr. Berk said that our classroom was rather drab, and that it was hard for him to teach without any pictures of what he was talking about. He established Henry at a table at the back of the room, and supplied him with a huge stack of magazines and a pair of scissors. Often in the middle of a lesson Mr. Berk would stop and say, “Did you get that, Henry? I’ll be needing pictures.” Mr. Berk would help him put up his pictures with Scotch tape, and almost immediately Henry was an integral part of what the class was learning.

Looking back, I know that the greatest lesson Mr. Berk taught me was on the day he told us that he was Jewish. I did not know any other Jewish people then, and I decided then and there that if Mr. Berk was Jewish, Jewish people were wonderful. My teacher went on to say that his father’s name had been Berkowitz, a Jewish name, but that he had changed the family name because there were some people who did not like Jewish people, and he had not wanted his son to have the trouble he had once had when a job was denied him because he was Jewish.

I went home in a rage, and asked my parents if there really were any people who would not give a wonderful

Sixth grade, at the Crispin School in Northeast Philadelphia, wasn’t much fun for me. It wasn’t much fun for any of the kids in my class either. The teacher we had that year didn’t seem to like us. She was hard to please, and by the end of the year most of us had stopped trying to please her.

For me, it was just that school wasn’t a nice place to be that year. I had no trouble with my school work, and was one of the best readers in my class. But I could see that certain of my classmates were having a really bad time.

Charlie was an Peggy Campolo Photo by Louise Hughes African-American boy from a very poor home. He didn’t have the money to pay his way on class trips, so he never went on them. Worse than that, whenever something was misplaced or missing in our classroom, the first thing our teacher would do was look for it in Charlie’s desk. She even made him empty his pockets. I don’t remember that anything ever did turn up in Charlie’s possession, but I knew our teacher didn’t like him. By the end of that year, Charlie was sullen and angry.

Then there was Henry, a tall, gangly boy, with very limited capacity for learning. Day after day, that teacher would ask him to understand and do things that were far beyond his ability. Amazingly, Henry never got angry; he just got sadder and sadder.

In 7th grade I met the best teacher I ever had, Mr. Berk. School became fun, and when Mr. Berk said it was a privilege to learn, we believed him because in his class, it was. It didn’t take long for him to make important changes for some people, either.

Soon, Charlie was washing Mr. Berk’s car every Friday afternoon. The money he earned was kept for him by Mr. Berk, who called it Charlie’s bank money.

Charlie never missed a class trip again, and his school supplies were just as good as those the rest of us had.

Charlie’s work improved markedly, and Mr. Berk made sure we all knew that it had. After graduation, Charlie went into the Marines. I saw him once in his uniform, and remember thinking that it would be nice if Mr. Berk could see him too.

We hadn’t been in Mr. Berk’s class for even a week

School became fun, and when Mr. Berk said it was a privilege to learn, we believed him because in his class, it was. It didn’t take long for him to make important changes for some people, either. person like Mr. Berk a job just because he was Jewish.

They explained that indeed there were, and how wrong it was to judge anyone on the basis of ethnic identity or skin color, but today I remember what happened to Mr. Berk’s father more than I remember what my parents said.

It was while Mr. Berk was my teacher that I asked my mother to show me how to iron a man’s white shirt.

She never suspected that I wanted to know just in case Mr. Berk asked me to marry him.

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In a one-room school, learning to spell catarrh By the end of WWII, farms could no longer support families, so more boys stayed in school through high school even though they lived on farms or intended to farm.

However did the teacher manage with such a wide range of ages in one room? The first unifier was morning exercises, which consisted of a Bible reading by the teacher, the Lord’s Prayer, and the Salute to the Flag. We stood, faced the flag, crossed our right hands over our hearts and gazed patriotically as we saluted.

It entered no one’s mind to question that routine.

We sat in rows by grade, from 8th on the left side to 1st on the right. Each grade was assigned work, and the teacher moved from 1st grade over to 8th. It was a preview for the primary children and a review for the older ones. We had flash cards for arithmetic and vocabulary, and books of spelling lists with words like catarrh. We had board work, seat work, and recitations such as Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address.

There were large maps of physical and political geography: the Ottoman Empire, Pennsylvania, the United States (before Alaska and Hawaii). Our backs were to the door. The teacher’s desk faced the door, and behind him was a wall of slate with a bottom shelf for chalk and felt erasers; above, models of the alphabet and numbers in printing and cursive writing.

We had textbooks and golden covered lined paper composition books for notes. On the back cover were the multiplication tables, 1 through 12, and every conceivable weight and measure, including gills and rods. We had reading, history, geography, penmanship, spelling, and arithmetic. We had only one art lesson in my three years there and no music or science that I can remember. We didn’t learn about nature; we were in nature and in the history of our country.

Our school consisted of the children of five or six families. My younger sister and brother and I were the new kids on the block. I came in at 5th grade and stayed through the 8th. Our youngest sister was bused to the town school in Abbottstown, and our much younger brother, essentially an only child, born when I was a senior in college, was bused to the brand new county school, complete with clerestory windows, from 1st grade on.

As schooling was modernized, even in the country, the schoolhouse was sold and converted to a cozy home, with a friendly shallow porch, two amply windowed walls and a high ceiling, a room full of daylight. The woodlots were sold to neighbors for building lots, and the road has been paved.

There is constant traffic along the Moulstown Road now, at least 20 homes along the road and in sight.

The barn burned down and was replaced with a metal shed. In this new century, the farm itself has been bought by a builder.

Part 2 of 2, continued from the April issue

By Carol Allen Most of the people who write about a one-room country schoolhouse have never had that experience.

I did, in Adams County, in southeastern Pennsylvania, where I grew up.

From our farmhouse driveway we turned left onto an unpaved road to Maple Grove School. Looking back over our farm, we could see the distant blue hills to the north, toward Carlisle, where the Confederate troops

We had reading, history, geography, penmanship, spelling, and arithmetic. We had only one art lesson in my three years there and no music or science that I can remember. We didn’t learn about nature; we were in nature and in the history of our country. headed south toward Gettysburg and crushing defeat a little less than 150 years ago. Once on the side road the school was immediately visible, a neat brick building with a slanted slate roof and those metal snow holders artfully included in the roof. It was a modest building, but well built, like our farmhouse. The school stood on property previously part of our farm.

Close to the paved road was the wellhead for our farm and the school. Beyond the school, back in the trees, were the outhouses: one for girls and one for boys. My brother eagerly joined the boys in the pissing contests to see who could squirt the highest on the wall. The girls gossiped around the well–we had to pump water to drink–and I quickly found out that everybody was related to everybody else, so I learned discretion.

The modest steeple held the black iron bell which summoned us to school at the 8 a.m. start of the school day and at the end of recess and lunch. Our old schoolmaster took a nap at lunch.

Pennsylvania school laws accommodated the labor needs of farm families. A child did not have to go to school until he was 8 years old and could quit when he turned 15. The schools were set up for eight grades.

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Spring at last Enjoying some early spring sun in one of the Mansion’s secluded interior gardens are resident Virginia Maloney and caregiver Jennifer Tefankjian.

Photo by Louise Hughes

Attention, residents and wait list:

Lucky day could be in the cards On May 27, at 5 p.m., Beaumont at Bryn Mawr will be transformed into Las Vegas.

Prepare to enjoy an evening of wheeling and dealing at The Beaumont Royale. Start sharpening your poker skills, practice throwing the dice for the Roulette Wheel, exercise that arm for the slot machines, and smile for the photo booth. There will be more games and great prizes to be won. Even Frank Sinatra, onstage crooning some oldies but goodies. Stop by the Food Court for a treat, or the bar for a glass of wine or spirit.

Prizes galore and fun, fun, fun, what else could be as exciting, so mark your calendars. I will see you in the Beaumont Room–no, I mean Vegas, baby!

Remember what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas . . .

—Rose-Marie Pringle, Director of Dining Services

Wii tennis a hit Playing tennis with the new Wii setup in the Beaumont Room, resident Alan Tripp executes an action-packed return swing. Wii games with fitness instructor Bob Stedeford are currently offered Wednesday afternoons at 2 and Thursday mornings at 10.

Photo by Louise Hughes

sprinkling systems.

On that walk we found one of the big sliding doors in the swimming pool area wide open, another door with a faulty handle which would require a work order for repair, and another outside door that looked closed but was a little ajar and could have been opened from the outside. Charlie’s eyes were everywhere, seeing things I would never have noticed.

My tour ended with less than half the patrol complete because Charlie had to leave to do one of his five train runs for wait staff, kitchen workers, and nightshift workers in the Health Center and Assisted Living.

Next month: Part II of my job as a rookie Security person.

Security patrol continued from page 8

While still in the car we monitored the garages.

Every stairwell door had to be checked with the wand and all the elevator lobbies secured.

Inside we began with Baldwin Hall and walked the corridors, up and down the stairs, watching to see that no apartment doors were left ajar, that no signs of smoke or unusual noise were coming from the apartments, and that the halls were clean and clear of hazards. So far the territory was familiar to me, but then we went down to the basement and an area I had never before seen. It was full of stored items, of pipes and machines, like the main shut-off valves for 7

On Security patrol with Charlie Finding out how all those little round buttons work

By Mary Schnabel This assignment was definitely exciting. And after my interview with Charlie Koch, head of Security, and Joe Gunn, who was on duty with him that evening, I felt that here was my chance to write a real cloak and dagger story about the 16 men who make up the Security Department at Beaumont. Indeed, the men are Beaumont’s detectives who work, mostly at night and weekends, to see that we are cared for and protected.

All of us are happy to see those friendly men when they sit behind the lobby desk and greet us in the evenings and on weekends. But that superficial bit of exposure to these fearless fellows is far from what goes on when we’re not around.

Even getting an interview with Charlie was Photos by Louise Hughes different. “It will have to be at night . . . how about 8 p.m., here at the front desk?”

Joe Gunn (left) and Charlie Koch man the Security Desk.

Come evening, refrigerator door, has already proved helpful.)

Charlie and Joe pulled an Three times during the night there are patrols inside extra chair up behind the desk and outside our complex. The men visit 60 separate and I sat there, learning some locations in person. In doing this story I decided I amazing statistics: would try to be like a real reporter and follow the As a start I found that from Security man on his rounds, just to see how it is done.

4 p.m. to 9 a.m. every day So two nights in one week I followed Charlie Koch on there are two members of his patrol. (It took me two nights; it takes the Security Security here on duty. On men one hour. But when they told me it was a 1½ mile weekends they are here 24 walk, up and down lots of steps, I decided I wasn’t up hours a day. Maintenance is for that.) off at 4:30 p.m. weekdays and With John Armenio holding down the desk and Reporter Schnabel not here at all on weekends, phone detail, Charlie grabbed his big set of master and when Maintenance is not keys and we started at a little after 8 p.m. by driving a here, and something happens, it’s Security that has to resident home from a dinner party. Then we drove all take charge. around the campus, stopping to activate special Security is the First Responder in case of an emersecurity buttons with an electronic “wand” that records gency at night. They are the first ones to appear at an every touch of a button and the time it was touched. apartment or villa, after they have alerted Outpatient or On that drive we also stopped to close two garage the Health Center. They are there when the police and doors left open, to pick up a trashcan lid that had ambulance arrive and make sure things go smoothly. blown onto the road, and to take note of a streetlight (Charlie tells me that the “File for Life,” which has our that needed a new bulb. vital information and should be mounted on everyone’s

continued on page 7

The deadline for the June 2010 issue of the Beaumont News is May 10. Please sign your story and either turn it in at the front desk or e-mail it to Mary Graff at graffs@msn.com and mgraff@beaumontretirement.com. Contributions, suggestions, and comments from all are welcome and necessary for our success. The editors reserve the right to edit all copy in keeping with News standards.

HOW TO GET A COLOR COPY OR LARGE PRINT EDITION OF BEAUMONT NEWS To get a color copy go to our website, www.beaumontretirement.com, click Skip Intro at the bottom of the page, then click Read this month’s newsletter, and print. If you would like to receive the News in large print, please leave your name at the desk in the front lobby. A copy will be placed in your in-house mailbox.

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