Front Cover: This photo of a sailboat on the Hudson, just south of the bridge, by Arthur Brady .
Inside Front Cover: Photo of goats by Edward Kasinec . He calls it: “Return Engagement of the Rockwood Rockstars . ”
Inside Back Cover: Carolyn Reiss took this photo of fall foliage reflected in a small local pond.
Back Cover: Arthur Brady photographed these pine cones that may well become future Kendal pine trees
Inside photographs (unless otherwise specified) by Arthur Brady
KENDAL VIEW STAFF
Editors
Llyn Clague and Pat Taylor
Managing Editor Hubert B. Herring
Editorial Staff
Laura Burkhardt, Doris Eder, Muriel Fox, Edith Litt, Norman Sissman, Valerie Wolzien
Photography Editors
Harry Bloomfeld, Arthur Brady, Caroline Persell
Advertising
Emil Bahary, Peter Roggemann, Ad Directors
Carolyn Klinger, Coordinator
Happy Birthday, Kendal View!
Pat Taylor
This issue marks the 19th anniversary of the uninterrupted publishing of the bimonthly magazine edited for the residents of Kendal on Hudson . The format has changed dramatically since September 2005, when brand-new residents received a first issue that was comprised of eight editorial pages, one cover in four color, and four pages of advertising — all held together by an intrepid staple . Today’s format has sixteen pages of editorial between four covers, each in full color (oh, those sunsets!) plus an eight-page advertising section that pays printing costs .
From that very first issue, the focus has been on excellent writing. The magazine has been fortunate all along in the range and depth of the writing skills of its residents, who either submit an article on their own or write on a subject suggested by a KV editor . Whichever, residents are very effective in bringing their individual backgrounds, experiences, thoughts, and insights to every issue .
The two Kendal View editors, Llyn Clague and Pat Taylor, alternate issues . They are backed by a staff that includes Hubert Herring as managing editor, copy editor Edith Litt, and two proofreaders, Doris Eder and Hubert Herring. When a writer is needed for a specific assignment, a full roster of residents can be tapped: either staff writers like Muriel Fox, Hubert Herring, Norman Sissman, and Valerie Wolzien or occasional contributors like Mimi Abramovitz, Gene DuBow, Ed Hanin, Peter Limburg, Frank Neuwirth, Lee Oakes, and Hanan Watson. This issue, in fact, has articles by a pair of first-time writers – Emil Bahary and Debbie Bell – who wlll no doubt be called upon in the future.
Kendal View’s three photo editors – Harry Bloomfeld, Art Brady, and Caroline Persell –are the formidable overseers of the production of the four covers, utilizing photos of other residents, as well as their own. Art Brady is responsible for photos that illustrate specific article within the issue . The occasional sketch may be assigned to Cathie Campbell or Shelley Robinson . Caroline Persell, a KoH Founder, has been a photo editor since the very beginning, partnering Horst Berger in earlier days .
Even before the September 2005 issue appeared, a controversy developed: should the magazine accept advertisements? Naysayers pointed out that no other Kendal journal for residents had any advertisers; others felt that it seemed just too “crassly commercial .” However, the affirmative viewpoint prevailed, as you can see. Not only did this decision make Kendal View financially self-sufficient, but a surplus has been donated to the Residents Association every year. Two residents – Emil Bahary and Peter Roggemann — became coadvertising directors a year ago and have already begun planning KV’s 2025 ad program, backed up by the efficiency of coordinator Carolyn Klinger.
The editors, writers, photographers, production people, and ad reps join the readers of this issue in celebrating another year in the vibrant life of Kendal .
Founder Caroline Persell: An Asset from the Beginning
Valerie Wolzien
Caroline Persell epitomizes efficiency and charm.
“We wanted to help build the community so we wanted to be here from the beginning .” Caroline Persell, June 2024 .
Caroline and Charlie Persell moved into Kendal on Hudson within a few weeks of its opening. It was difficult to find their way around and between the buildings because there were no signs . So many residents needed the elevators that they were asked to use them only on the first day of their move. Exhausted from unpacking and walking up and down stairs, Caroline and Charlie abandoned their unopened boxes and moved to their summer home in the Adirondacks . Two months later, refreshed and eager to begin their new life, they returned to Kendal, unpacked those boxes, and got to work .
Caroline had been aware of Kendal communities since college . Her Swarthmore roommate’s mother was a resident at Kendal at Kennett Square . A few years later, Caroline’s own mother moved into the Kendal at Hanover NH . Visiting her mother over the years, Caroline and her husband were impressed by the residents . “They were so nice, and there were a lot of people who liked to read, and some were academics and some were writers . There was just a lot of intellectual activity . ”
Then a friend whose mother was on the mailing list of the Friends Meeting in Great Neck called and said that she’d just read there was possibility of a new Kendal being planned in the New York area . “Are you interested?” she asked . Caroline said, “You bet . ”
A few months later at pre-opening meetings held at the James House they discovered the same sort of people they’d met at Hanover. Amid floor plans and a model of the proposed buildings, there were discussions of just what would be required in the new community . High on the list was a library . So Caroline participated in a survey of future residents’ reading preferences . The answer was biographies: still visible on the shelves today .
Caroline was the first woman to chair the Department of Sociology at New York University. She wrote one of the standard sociology textbooks, Understanding Society, as well as many other books and articles . She won many awards, including becoming a Carnegie Foundation Scholar as well as winning a National Science Foundation Faculty Development Award . She served on several national educational committees while raising their twins in a brownstone in Greenwich Village .
Charlie had retired after twelve years as Chief Operating Officer for the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine, but Caroline continued to work for six years after moving into Kendal, commuting by train into the city . After she retired, she made use of many of her professional
skills here at Kendal on Hudson . Having created a website for one of her sociology classes, she was happy to say yes when Fran Kelly asked her to join the new Computer Committee . She said yes a second time when Fran returned to ask her to chair that committee .
The result of the committee’s work was a newly created website designed to keep residents in touch with one another and their families, and to help Marketing show prospective residents what a unique and special place Kendal on Hudson is .
Caroline, impressed by the beauty of the Hudson River Valley and enthusiastic about the new, easy to use digital cameras, ultimately joined Kendal View as one of its photography editors, taking and choosing photographs for many covers
As her commitments changed, so did the world . Covid challenged the resources, staff and residents of Kendal on Hudson . Meals were delivered to residents isolating in their apartments . But residents could—and did—walk in Rockwood Hall, the park next door . Two residents, living across the hall from each other, opened their doors and shared convivial evenings while maintaining social distancing . Caroline refers to this as an example of “Kendal creativity . . . people figuring out how to make it work for them.”
As a student, Caroline had participated in Quaker work camps in Philadelphia, but she credits Swarthmore College for her early exposure to Quaker values . One example, she says, is that Swarthmore had a financial policy that was a great equalizer. Students were not charged for any activities beyond the initial activities fee included with their tuition . Students on scholarship had the same benefits as all others, and no one knew who found it difficult to pay their own way.
These values informed her current position as one of the three resident members of the Kendal on Hudson Board of Directors . Like KoH itself, much of the Board’s work is done in committees . Caroline is currently a member of the Strategic Planning Committee . She is also chair of the Philanthropy Committee where she is working to increase the Board’s efforts outside of Kendal while continuing its internal charitable work . She’s proud to have been on the search committee which interviewed candidates and recommended Jean Eccleston to the Board as our current CEO “I feel very good about that decision,” she says
As a Board member she’s looking out for Kendal both now and for its future . “I’m very impressed with the new people coming in and the spirit of the place . . .all the participation and attendance at events . . . .most people want to be involved . ”
When asked if she had a message for residents living at Kendal on Hudson twenty years from now, she said, “Keep the faith and keep these values . . . .that’s what’s distinctive about Kendal . People can be themselves here and be friendly to everybody . ”
Preserving the Past for Posterity
Fran Kelly
Long before Kendal’s spring 2005 opening, founding resident Juanita Carmi was determined that our history be preserved . With her background as historian and archivist, she initiated an Archives Committee and set about organizing donated documents, maps, photos, and architectural plans relevant to the history and activities of KoH and the surrounding area .
When Edward Kasinec became committee chair in 2022, the Kendal Archives were housed in the T-level Hudson Room . Edward, Gretchen Engler, and I spent many hours reviewing the archival files and preparing registers of their contents. We concluded that the valuable historic files related to planning and establishing KoH should be located off-site in suitable climate-controlled conditions, accessible to researchers . The Westchester County Historical Society in nearby Elmsford agreed to house our collection . Subsequently, Kendal became a WCHS patron .
Transferring Kendal archives to the Westchester County Historical Society. Left to right: Gretchen Engler; Patrick Raftery, WCHS Associate Director and Librarian; Fran Kelly; Edward Kasinec.
By January 2023, the transfer to WCHS of a large map case and seven boxes of archival material was completed . Substantial, pertinent collections submitted by residents John Slater and Nicholas Robinson were included in the transfer . In July 2014, additional records containing early Residents Association and committee files were transferred to WCHS . Kendal’s archives are now available (by appointment) to qualified reseachers inter-
ested in learning about one of Westchester County’s principal CCRCs .
While servng as Council Chair, Henry Schacht envisioned the need to capture the memories of founding residents (and selected staff) whose numbers were diminishing . The Council approved an Oral History Project under the aegis of the Archives Committee . Sound & Story, a professional non-profit organization, interviewed twenty founding residents and staff . The project was funded by the Council, the Administration, and residents’ donations . Audio and video recordings and written transcripts are now housed in the Archives, along with a 10-minute video commissioned by our Marketing Department . This heartwarming video can be viewed on YouTube . The Oral History project was concluded in January 2022 .
Looking forward to Kendal’s 20th anniversary, the Archives Committee, now expanded with two advisors, Nicholas Robinson and Peter Roggemann, proposed a series of Monday night lectures covering various aspects of Kendal’s origins . Speakers included Philip Zegarelli, former Sleepy Hollow Mayor; Bradford Perkins, CEO of design firm Perkins Eastman; Andrew Tung, landscape architect; and Nicholas Robinson who, at the time, chaired the Sleepy Hollow Planning Board . The four recorded lectures were also made available on KoH Channel 970 .
These March 2024 lectures were videoed professionally by Sound & Story with highlights incorporated into a one-hour video, now part of our archival records . To complete the story, a second lecture series is planned for fall 2024 with speakers Chuck Winter, COO of Andron Construction Company, and Pat Doyle, Kendal’s founding CEO .
Juanita Carmi passed away in early 2024 . Thanks to her vision, Kendal on Hudson’s history is now securely preserved for posterity .
An Education Not to Be Sneezed At
Norman J.Sissman
Of all the anecdotes about my youth that I have recounted to Kendal residents, the one most likely to elicit a chuckle is the story of how I became a Dartmouth undergraduate.
Halfway through my high school senior year, I passed a long examination and was accepted into the U.S. Navy V-12 Program – in which young men on active duty were assigned to become college students . My induction date was July 1, 1944 . The letter of acceptance had a list of colleges and universities with V-l2 programs, and a request that I indicate my top three preferences. Unlike students today who often start investigating college choices early on, I hadn’t thought much about it . When I discussed the letter with my parents, my everpractical mother said, “Norman, since you have such severe allergies and asthma, why not opt for a school that is good for your allergies?” Off I went to my beloved Carnegie Library to borrow a volume called Know Your Allergies. It included a map of the United States showing the concentrations of different pollens in different areas . A small circle in central New Hampshire was labeled “Low pollen count .” So I replied to the Navy’s letter with Dartmouth as my first choice.
Of the dozen or so boys in my class who went into V-12, I was the only one who was assigned to any of his choices, let alone his first. After the end of the War in September, 1945, we were all discharged into the Naval Reserve . I continued as a civilian at Dartmouth, graduated, and started medical school there .
Meet Ellen Magalona: Role Model of Service
Lee Oakes
While growing up in a loving, extended family in the Philippines, Ellen Magalona remembers that she first realized as a teenager that she wanted to be sure she could take care of her mother in her old age . She thought the best way to do this would be to become a nurse . And so, a lifetime of service to and for others, began . After graduating nursing school in the Philippines in 1990, Ellen came to United States in 1994. She caught up with a few old friends, quickly made new ones, re-met a Philippines beau named Gerard, and became licensed to practice nursing in her new country . (More about Gerard later .)
Ellen Magalona combines a successful career with a wonderful personal life.
Ellen’s journey culminated in her recent appointment to the position of Director of Nursing at Kendal on Hudson in February, 2024 . She has earned her way to this position every day since she joined Kendal’s nursing staff as a part-time nursing supervisor in 2006, shortly after Kendal opened its doors . During these years, she has sought every advanced educational opportunity offered by Kendal . She says she has absorbed wisdom from every clinical interaction with Kendal residents, soaked up all the advice offered by her long-time boss and mentor, Christine Appel, as well as other staff members . Ellen says: “Education is the only thing you can’t take away from me .” She says she’s more than ready to meet her newest responsibility .
Other colleague/staffers agree . Among many comments, Lisa Wacht, to whom Ellen reports, said: “Ellen has been an integral part of our Nursing Staff for many years and her commitment to quality service for all Kendal residents makes her promotion especially well deserved .” When we asked Ellen about her first day on the job at Kendal, she said she was struck by Kendal’s beauty. From that first moment, she felt at home with its values, staff and residents, and wanted to make her career here .
Ellen recalls the Covid years as very difficult, for staff, patients, and especially families who couldn’t be with their loved ones during times of quarantine She said that a loving warmth pervaded every situation . She spoke of a resident whose 100th birthday occurred during quarantine, The family was devastated not to be able to celebrate it together . Staff saved the day by having a “within the quarantine rules” celebration and taking pictures so the family could share in the resident’s pleasure .
While Ellen regards Kendal and everybody in it as “family,” her real family is close by . She’s been married for more than 30 years to Gerard, her Philippines beau . He is a computer analyst and recently started his own business . They have two grown chilldren, both of whom have outstanding careers after graduating summa cum laude from their respective colleges .
And yes, Ellen was able to care for her mother in her old age, as she had promised herself she would, so many years ago .
Coming to America: #30 and #31
Emil Bahary
On December 30, 1949, my brother Kamel and I passed through Immigration Control at Idlewild Airport as #30 and #31, our numbers in Iran’s yearly immigration quota of 100 . This is our story .
Our journey to America had actually begun several years before . Our father was a successful businessman who nonetheless recognized that prospects for education and jobs for his three sons and daughter in predominantly Muslim Iran were not good, even during the reign of the Shah . Along with our siblings Gladys and William, Kamel and I were enrolled in the American Missionary School in Tehran, and we learned to speak English at an early age with the help of a private tutor . Our mother had spent hours waiting on a particular street corner in order to intercept the tutor on her way home from her teaching job – there were no telephones . Eventually, we spoke mostly English, even at home .
And so in 1949 the papers came through for us to emigrate to the United States. My brother Kamel and I came first, followed a year later by our mother, Gladys, and William, and then after that by our father, who was wrapping up his business operations. The first step for Kamel and myself was to get exit visas . Our father had one of his assistants take us to the emigration office where we presented our paperwork. After some back and forth with the government official, we obtained our visas.
When we went through Customs after arriving at Idlewild, the official questioned me about my Hohner accordion which I had brought with me . First I had to prove that it was mine, so I sat in the Customs Office and played “Over the Waves Waltz” for the entertainment of all the passers-by. Then the official said, “Well, I still can’t let you bring this in.” This was because of the trade restrictions on German products which were put in place after World War II and were still in effect. But the official was creative and thought of a solution – he scratched the name off of the accordion, and we were on our way .
Except we weren’t . It was Friday evening and although we had had chest X-rays taken before we left Iran, we had forgotten to bring them with us . So we had to spend the weekend at Ellis Island, waiting for Monday morning when we could have new X-rays taken Our quarters at Ellis Island were a room with 800 beds populated by men walking around in
Getting Our Exit Visas Sketches by Cathie Campbell
various stages of undress, which was shocking to us teenage boys who were used to a certain amount of privacy . But we got milk and cookies every night and every morning listened to a Frenchman who climbed up on a table, pointed at the Statue of Liberty, and yelled, “That belongs in France, not here!” We later learned he was being deported because of supposed Communist sympathies .
After leaving Ellis Island, Kamel and I were released into the custody of our uncle . We joined our cousins at Horace Mann School for Boys where we had been enrolled . At that time it was a boarding school, and we spent weekends with our aunt and uncle . Before leaving Iran we had had very expensive overcoats made with enormous padded shoulders . But these were just not the style in our new country . Our aunt and cousins lost no time in taking us to Robert Hall so we could get proper American clothes .
Emil Bahary retired his accordion for a busy life as a
After Horace Mann, Kamel and I were off to college – Kamel to Columbia College and I to Cornell, and in 1957 I became an American citizen I didn’t play my accordion for many years, and so the week before coming to Kendal I was inspired to try playing again. But my fingers just weren’t working right. After so much time the dexterity and muscle memory had been lost . Reluctant to discard the accordion, Laura and I took it to the New England Accordion Connection & Museum in North Canaan, CT, where it now resides with a host of other old accordions .
The Challenges for a Girl Who Loved Sports
(Before Title IX)
Debbie Bell
I grew up on a small farm in Pennsylvania, helping my grandmother candle eggs while we listened to the radio broadcasts of the Brooklyn Dodgers . They broke my heart when they moved to Los Angeles, but it was the start of my lifetime passion for sports .
In my elementary school, there were enough boys for pick-up baseball, soccer, and football games during the three recesses each day . I played everything . As soon as I got off the school bus, I would jump on my bike, pedal two miles back into town, and the games would continue until it was time for supper .
During the summers, there was Little League baseball . I attended every practice and was a full member of the team – until we played actual games. Then I kept score. I didn’t recognize a problem – Little League was for boys.
Kendal resident.
Photo by Laura Burkhardt
In the winter, there were ice hockey and basketball . My grandfather installed a net in an empty space of the hayloft, and I spent hours practicing . The only restriction was no basketball while the cows were being milked . The thump-thump of the ball overhead distracted them . On Saturdays there was basketball in the small all-purpose room adjacent to our school. The floors were concrete, one of the nets was on the stage, but we went all out . I was still one of the boys . (However, when we played other schools and were assigned “shirts or skins,” they made sure I was on the shirts team .)
The Debbie Bell of today proves the value of sports participation yesterday.
But my age of joyful innocence was ending . When our basketball team’s picture appeared in the local paper, I was identified as the “secretary .” My mother said I could no longer play tackle football because I was a girl . Finally, in one of our school recess baseball games, I was rounding first base on my way to an extra-base hit when the first baseman tripped me. I leaped up ready to settle the score, but before I could do so, the alpha male on our team jumped in and whacked the offender . I looked at him in amazement . I can take care of myself! Slowly but surely, I understood I was no longer one of them .
After sixth grade, we had long bus rides to a regional high school The impromptu games were no longer, and I spent most of my free time with Midnight, my horse .
One summer the women in the local towns began playing softball games (on the Little League field). I managed our ragtag team. We were so short of talent that I had to use my mother . Her “arm” was questionable . On the farm, anything that would compost (a later term) was thrown over the fence separating the lawn and the farm fields. My mother would stand on our back steps and hurl the kitchen scraps underhand . On more than one occasion, they ended up on the roof .
In our last years, we played intramural half-court basketball . A few of the neighboring schools were beginning to field girls’ basketball teams, and play each other. “Why not us?” I thought . I organized the students, and gathered signatures on petitions . I was making headway, until one day I was told to meet with the school board president and town doctor (who had delivered me) in his office. When I walked in, he commanded that I sit down and said, “You must stop this . Vigorous sports are not good for a young woman’s developing body . ”
What happened next? At the same time, my vision was deteriorating and the eye doctor cautioned me to avoid contact sports for the immediate future to prevent further worsening . I had a face-saving reason to stop my campaign . I will always wonder what I might have done otherwise .
Why I Write About World War II
Frank Neuwirth
Frank’s old address; A Company, 821st Tank Destroyer Battalion.
I have been asked why I write about my World War II experiences . I write about them because I was there .
I read recently that for each soldier on the line, it required seven soldiers to support him . That translates into one out of eight, or only 12 . 5% of those under arms, saw actual combat . I was one of that group .
In 1944, I was twenty years old and quite impressionable . I spent eleven months in combat: from June 1944 until May 1945 . I grew up in those eleven months .
It is difficult to describe life in combat; it is living in a most primitive way with death ever present . One is transported literally overnight from the relative comfort of garrison living into a fearsome world No longer did we have tents for cover from the uncertainties of the weather; no longer did we have beds; no longer did we have ablutions; no longer did we have hot meals . Those amenities were exchanged for foxholes, cold water, straddle trenches, field rations and an ever-present threat to life and limb .
In combat we learned to keep our heads down and to walk in a crouch: the smaller the target, the more difficult to hit. We learned to recognize the sounds of incoming and outgoing artillery and, in the case of incoming artillery, whether it was going to hit our position . If it was going to hit us, the cry was “Incoming mail .”
“Fox hole” has a sort of romantic sound but, in reality, a hole is a hole . So, we slept in holes . If it rained, and it seemed to do so frequently in the summer of 1944, the hole filled with water or turned to mud — not the most pleasant place in which to sleep, if one were able to sleep at all .
If we were in a position for a day, we might cover the hole with branches for a bit more protection from air bursts, but this presented additional problems: did you sleep with your head under the covered portion or at the entrance to the hole? There was more protection for one’s head in the covered portion but exiting the hole from that position was more difficult, and exiting quickly was a priority .
I recall having company in my hole one rainy night. The hole was filled with water and a frog joined me I was dead tired and although my uniform and shoes (we slept with shoes on) were wet, I fell asleep only to be awakened by my frog friend jumping around or croaking .
Washing-up, if combat conditions permitted, was accomplished by using one’s steel helmet
as a sink . Cold water was poured from a jerry can and teeth were brushed and hands and face washed, all in the same water . Sometimes, again conditions permitting, we bathed our entire bodies in that very same water .
Bodily functions were performed either directly on the ground or in a straddle trench . Elimination was executed in a squatting position and as quickly as possible: getting caught with one’s pants down in combat was not desirable .
Our meals were cold field rations. Either C-Rations or K-Rations were our fare and neither was too appetizing . Fortunately, the rations contained a high-caloric bittersweet chocolate bar, known as D-Ration, that most found unpalatable but I liked and of which I accumulated a supply .
In addition to all of the above, we needed always to have our weapons with us in good firing order, meaning clean and dry and ready for use . Ammunition, hand grenades, bayonets, combat knives, and other combat accessories needed to be appropriately maintained . Creature comforts aside, the battlefield is not a friendly or accommodating place. Additionally, in Normandy we found ourselves in a terrain that we were unprepared for — the “bocage .” Indeed, I had never heard that word, all we knew when we arrived was that there were lots of what we came to call “hedgerows .”
The hedgerow area of Normandy is divided into relatively small fields that are fenced in by earthen barriers (hedgerows) . These earthen barriers varied from perhaps three feet to six feet wide and were from three feet to nine or ten feet high . The hedgerows were topped with hedges, trees, brambles, and other growth that increased their height considerably . Also, since the hedgerows had been in place for centuries, the root systems and natural impaction made them almost impenetrable .
Here and there in the bocage were “sunken roads”; these were century-old wagon roads that had been eroded by constant wear . All of the roads lay from one to ten feet below the level of the surrounding land and that, together with the height of the hedgerows, literally hid the roads from view .
The bocage extended for some thirty miles south of the landing beaches and presented a major problem for us . Firstly, we were completely surprised by the bocage terrain . Secondly, and as a result, we were not trained for fighting in this environment. Thirdly, we lacked the equipment to deal with penetrating the hedgerows; that lack was overcome after a time by improvising attachments to our tanks to enable them to slash through the hedgerows .
I hope that, from my brief description above, it is apparent that the Germans had near-perfect defensive positions and that we on the offensive had an almost impossible task .
Consequently, the drive from Omaha Beach to St Lo, that now takes perhaps forty minutes, took from June 6 until July 18, 1944. That 1944 drive was most difficult, and cost more lives than were lost on D Day .
The experience of combat is a unique one. Under enemy fire every nerve, every fiber, every muscle is deployed in the effort to survive. Adrenalin flow increases and enables one to perform at unexpectedly high levels . Fear and exhilaration are at play simultaneously .
Somehow, fear takes a secondary role; the need to act comes to the fore .
There is little time for the wounded other than to call out “Medic” and try to get them to a safer spot . The dead become just a part of the landscape .
That brings me to the smell of the battlefield. Sure, there was the odor of exploded gunpowder, but the unforgettable smell was that of death . The summer of 1944 was particularly hot and wet and those conditions led to rapid putrefaction . There were dead soldiers, American and German; and there were dead animals, cows, horses, oxen, chickens, and others .
There is nothing like the sickeningly sweet smell of rotting flesh: it penetrates and clings to everything around . However, we could not take our eyes off the dead lying there, particular!y in the sun: they moved! Gasses welled up in the bodies and moved them . It was a scene out of Hades, replete with odor, and we were transfixed by it.
Those who were unable to get the death and destruction out of their minds eventually suffered “battle fatigue” (now called PTSD or post-traumatic stress disorder) . Most of us adopted the thought that “nobody dies,” that anyone not around was on leave for R&R (rest and rehabilitation) .
An Addendum: Battlefield Cuisine
C Ration in a 12-oz . Olive Drab Can containing:
• corned beef hash OR
• hot dog slices & beans OR
• beef stew & biscuits
• powdered coffee
• four cigarettes
• gum
K Ration in a waxed cardboard box (Crackerjack size) containing:
• a small block of cheese & crackers OR
• a can of potted meat
• one chocolate bar
• four cigarettes
• gum
• lemonade powder
Editor’s Note: This article has been printed with slight revisions from the September/ October 2019 issue. Over the years, Frank has contributed articles on combat, D-Day, and Army life, as well as a tender ode about his marriage to his late wife, Marilyn.
Small Claims, Big Problems
Peter Limburg
The year was 1990, and I had been given a free-lance assignment to prepare a book proposal . The assignment was tempting: the client was a Swedish-born rabbi . I am Jewish and my wife is an ethnic Swede . The subject was the life of Folke Bernadotte, the royal-born Swedish scoutmaster turned diplomat who was assassinated in 1948 by Jewish terrorists from the Stern Gang . How could I turn it down? I shall call my client “Frank,” although this was not his real name, nor, as I was to discover, his nature .
Our relationship began with a visit to Frank’s tiny, cluttered city apartment . Frank himself was quite unprepossessing — short, obese, sloppily-dressed, and bearded . However, he spoke well and persuasively, I wanted the work, and the subject matter interested me . A contract was vetted by my agent and signed, and the work began . Frank supplied me with copious material: books, newspaper and magazine articles, and photocopies of scholarly journals . There were a series of visits, and innumerable telephone conversations and mail exchanges . Frank called for revision after revision as new ideas occurred to him . One day he professed himself satisfied and sent the proposal off to his agent: cover letter, outline, and sample chapters . The agent turned it down because he had changed his mind . Bernadotte’s life was not exciting enough; he wanted to focus on the assassination . I had not signed up for that .
Upon the news of the rejection, Frank refused to pay me for the extensive work I had done. A veteran member of the writers’ association through which I had gotten the assignment advised me to take him to Small Claims Court . My agent concurred, and that’s when the real adventures began .
New York’s Small Claims Court is located at 111 Centre Street, far, far downtown, and then as now, it operated at night for the vast majority of cases At this point it was early 1991, and New York City was having a severe financial crisis; services were sharply curtailed. I found my way to the office (open for a few hours during the day) and stood in line for an overburdened clerk to accept my $5.58 filing fee and assign me a date for a hearing. I chose to be heard by a judge rather than an arbitrator because a judge’s decision could be appealed; an arbitrator’s could not
The hearing was set for August 15, but postponed until September 26 because of the judges’ workload . My literary agent told me to subpoena Frank’s agent, Jeff H, as a witness . I paid a process-serving agency $72 to serve the subpoena on Jeff, who contemptuously ignored it . Despite dire threats of contempt of court for a summoned person’s not showing up, nothing was done .
On September 26, I reported to the courtroom at 6:30p .m . and presented my case . It was deferred again . This happened again and again as the case failed to make it to the top of the list before closing time, or Frank managed to delay it. Each time, I had to file a new
application and pay cash in advance . We (the claimants) had to bring exact change, and some unfortunate claimants were turned away in frustration because they didn’t know about this requirement .
I reported to the courtroom perhaps half a dozen times . Each time the claimants and defendants stood in line to be frisked for weapons . One evening a private detective ahead of me in line had a temper fit because he had to surrender his pistol. Another time an infuriated claimant tried to assault one of the armed corrections officers. The men’s room, uncleaned because the city could not pay the workers, was a stench-filled horror. We claimants sat patiently in the courtroom and hoped that our cases would be called that evening .
My recollection is that Frank appeared in court only once . For a change, he was neatly dressed, he had had a haircut, and I think he was wearing a girdle to hold in his tum-tum . At any rate, he ranted in Trump-like fashion, which may well have helped to decide the judge against him . I eventually got my decision on August 10, 1992 . Now it was up to me to collect . Frank kept stalling The booklet “A Guide to Small Claims Court”— I still have it — told me to enlist a city marshal to collect what was due me .
I found a marshal from a list. At his office, in a grim and run-down building. I was greeted by a hostile woman who snarled “What are you here for?” The marshal himself was much more affable, and he told me all the papers that he needed, including cashed checks (for Frank’s bank account), records of my attempts to get paid, and much, much more . He also required a fee of $45 .07 in advance . Weeks passed after I delivered the needed papers to the marshal, and I heard nothing . (By now it was July 1993 .) Several phone calls went unanswered . Then a recording told me his phone had been disconnected. Mystified, I went to his office and found a notice on his door that he was out of business . Luckily, I found a maintenance man, and asked what was going on . He replied, “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but the marshal is in jail .” He had been detected embezzling from funds that he had been collecting . I never did get my $45 .07 back . Frank still owes me .
May I Introduce Myself?
My name is Aracelis Rojas . I’m from the Dominican Republic . I came to the U.S. in October, 2021. I studied English in my country but I didn’t practice enough. When I came to the U.S., I continued to study English at Westchester Community College . Now I’m studying English with Harriet Barnett at Kendal .
I started working at Kendal last year in Dining Services . I live in Tarrytown and drive to work every day . I like working here . The residents are friendly and kind My sister has been living here for about 20 years . She brought my mother here about 10 years ago and then my mother brought me . Aracelis and her selfie!
A.I., Ready or Not
Lee Oakes
The promise - the threat . To encode all human knowledge . Mapping futures
Never imagined .
A .I .’s inventors
Grab from the past to build its future . New tomorrows
Ready or not .
Here - at this threshold
A .I . stampedes as I sweat- stammer “Can I - help me
Inch into its world?
The promise - the threat: I rresistible
I nevitable
I rrevocable .
Dentistry, as with other health services, is rapidly changing. Technology is constantly improving, allowing us to deliver quality care in less time and with less stress. Most importantly though, dentistry is still an art as well as a science. As a health service, the patient care is provided not only by the doctor, but by the entire office staff. Dentistry as a health service means properly placed restorations and courteously answered phones. Rapidly changing technology will not change this philosophy of service.
The Zegarelli dental office has been located in Tarrytown since 1982. We have been serving KoH residents since the Kendal opening day in 2005.
VITALITY
Your partner in health and wellness
To see all of our upcoming free events, please visit the events page on the Phelps website at: phelps.northwell.edu/events.
For more information, please call (914) 366-1150 or email vitality@northwell.edu
Vitality at Phelps Hospital offers a variety of free programs and services to help you stay active and engaged as you age. We provide educational healthrelated classes, events, support programs, and expert care to enhance your well-being. We invite you to enjoy our activities and social gatherings to keep you connected to your health and wellness, while having fun with your peers.
