Kendal View January-February2024

Kendal View Kendal On Hudson’s Bimonthly Journal

Volume 19, Issue 3

January-February, 2024

The View, From the Top Edited by Pat Taylor Norman Sissman: Kendal’s Renaissance Man, Llyn Clague. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2

Meet the New Dining Managers, Valerie Wolzien. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4 Lynn Tepper and the Science of Aging, Muriel Fox. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 My Second Profession, My First Love, Jon Masters. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 ‘Sing We a Song of Our First Alma Mater,’ Peter Limburg . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8

Tracking the Apollonia: a Freighter of the Hudson, Lee Oakes. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10 Camping Is Not All Fun & Games, Ursula Hahn. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11

My Solo Marathon, Hubert B. Herring. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 What a Day at the Opera, Rema Sessler. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15

Innocent Sound (Poem), Sheila Benedis. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16 COVERS:

Harry Bloomfeld took this photograph of the recently restored Sleepy Hollow Lighthouse. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Front Cover

A photo showing fibers creating a rainbow was shot by Harry at the Bruce Art Museum in Greenwich . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Inside Front Cover

Harry asked his wife, Marianne, to stand before the Glacial Erratic in Rockefeller Preserve to illustrate just how massive it is. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Inside Back Cover

An especially beautiful sunset over the Hudson was captured by Caroline Persell . . . . Back Cover All inside photographs (unless otherwise specified) by Arthur Brady.

KENDAL VIEW STAFF Editors Llyn Clague and Pat Taylor Managing Editor Hubert B. Herring Editorial Staff Gene DuBow, Doris Eder, Muriel Fox, Edith Litt, Norman Sissman, Valerie Wolzien Photography Editors Harry Bloomfeld, Arthur Brady, Caroline Persell, Richard Schneeman Advertising Emil Bahary, Peter Roggemann, Ad Directors Carolyn Klinger, Coordinator 1

Norman Sissman: Kendal’s Renaissance Man Llyn Clague Norman J. Sissman, with his wife, Charlotte, were Founders, the first residents of Kendal on Hudson, all of whom moved into our just-completed buildings in 2005. From the beginning, Norman was eager to participate in activities that would enhance the good life here.

The Sissmans’ involvement preceded their arrival here by several years. After Norman retired in 2000, they began looking for a senior community near their home in Princeton, N.J. They were favorably impressed by Kendal Crossroads in Pennsylvania, but there was a twoyear waiting list. When they were told of plans to open another Kendal in the Hudson Valley, they applied and were accepted. Even before our physical campus was completed, they joined a group of other Founders that met monthly in homes nearby, helping to design and shape the KoH organization and buildings.

After the move-ins were complete, Norman joined the first Residents Council, where he served for a year. After that, he felt that his contributions to life at KoH would be more effective in other areas. One unusual aspect – though certainly not unique – of his activities here was that they were not a continuation of his professional life, but far afield from that.

Son of a Russian Jewish émigré, Norman was born and grew up in Pittsburgh. Wanting to become as American as possible after his arrival in the U.S. at age 19, his father felt that he should abandon (though not deny) his Orthodox background, so Norman’s childhood was a rather secular upper-middle-class one. During his senior year in high school, he was accepted into V-12, a naval program for educating young men after they joined the Armed Services. When he was informed about the variety of college programs run by the Navy, he accepted his mother’s suggestion that he should choose a school where there was little pollen to exacerbate his allergies, so he ended up at Dartmouth!

There he earned his B.S. degree, went on to Dartmouth Medical School, transferred to Harvard Medical School and finished a mixed residency at the Montefiore Hospital in Pittsburgh. In 1952, during the Korean War, he was recalled to active duty and assigned to the Naval Hospital in Philadelphia, which was the Atlantic Theater center for service personnel with psychoses. At that time, there were no medications for psychoses, so he administered electric shock treatments and other difficult procedures. A six-month stint supervising a ward for demented old Navy personnel convinced him to choose a specialty, pediatrics, in which patients who recovered from illnesses could have a long and fruitful future as opposed to that of “old folks” — this was 60 years before Norman himself became one of the latter.

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After his discharge from active duty, he completed a two-year residency in pediatrics at the Pittsburgh Children’s Hospital, followed by a two-year fellowship in cardiology at Johns Hopkins. He then joined the faculty of Stanford Medical School, where he was Chief of Pediatric Cardiology from 1958 to 1971. There he married and fathered a daughter. During his first year in California, he lived in the North Beach section of San Francisco amidst the ferment of the Beat Generation, Ferlinghetti’s City Lights Bookstore and the vibrant poetry scene there. In 1967, he volunteered to work one night a week in the free Haight-Ashbury Clinic, treating the Flower Children for various illnesses, including removing shards of glass from the feet of those who roamed the city barefoot and stoned.

Norman’s first marriage eventually failed, and he moved East and became Professor of Pediatrics and Chief of Pediatric Cardiology at Rutgers Medical School. During this time, he was Chair of the Princeton Health Commission.

He married Charlotte Tejessy in 1975. Born and raised in Germany, she had lost contact with her father after he fled the SS in 1933 when they came to arrest him because of his antiNazi writings, as a journalist, over the previous decade. After the war Charlotte was able to join him in the U.S. There she graduated from Radcliffe, became a social worker, and then moved to New York, where she established a private psychotherapy practice and was Director of Social Work Training at the Jewish Board of Guardians, a mental health agency.

Norman has been intimately involved with Kendal View from its first issue. He wrote a monthly column titled “Overheard in the Bistro,” focused on residents’ activities; he was co-editor and then sole editor from 2013 until 2019. With its originator, Katherine Sinclair, and Peter Davies, he established the Co-Pilot program and was its director from 2009 until 2019 (now it is ably led by Gretchen Engler). It was the first CCRC program of its kind; later Norman helped another retirement community in Pennsylvania start a similar system.

Norman leads a Poetry Reading Group (originally started by Founder Jim Oltman); it meets once a month, with residents reading aloud and discussing some of their favorite poems.

Norman has given two Monday night talks, one entitled “The Greatest Novel Ever Written” (Ulysses by James Joyce); the other on the history of the earth, “Six Billion Years in 60 Minutes.” These reflect his two major interests: literature and science. Not to be too idle, he has been in the casts of several New Year’s Eve shows and has performed in a couple of other Gathering Room productions.

Norman is grateful for all the friends he has made here, our many, many stimulating social and intellectual activities, and the invaluable support the Kendal staff has given him in times of stress. He also enjoys the natural beauty, the cultural resources, and the plethora of good restaurants in the Hudson Valley. He also confesses some feelings of guilt for having such a peaceful and rewarding life vis-à-vis the troubled world all around us.

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Meet the New Dining Managers Valerie Wolzien It isn’t easy to arrange interviews with Christie Barette or Jorge Paez. I passed Jorge at the Bistro entrance explaining fobs to new residents, but I didn’t want to interrupt. Christie was sitting at a booth in the Bistro, in a planning session with Fred Coppola, Director of Dining Services. Later, as Jorge dashed by my seat in the FDR, he paused and smiled, then someone from another table called to him. These are two busy people.

But they answer their emails, and they said they wanted to be interviewed together. So, the last week of October, I was invited to the office next to the Formal Dining Room that they Christie and Jorge: two whirlwinds of activity today have shared since Christie began working at KoH three weeks and eager for a new dining area earlier. We sat amid unopened cases of wine as they told their tomorrow. stories, interrupted frequently by staff with questions about the ongoing operations outside the door.

“Talk to Jorge first. His background is more interesting than mine,” Christie insisted. Jorge protested politely, but I followed her advice.

Jorge was 22 years old when he came to this country from Colombia. He was the first in his family to emigrate north. He has helped many relatives get established in the United States since. Jorge learned his excellent English at BOCES (Boards of Cooperative Educational Services). His first job was with an air conditioning company in New York City.

After six years installing and servicing air conditioners, he moved on to the Winged Foot Golf Club in Westchester County, where his career evolved into hospitality. It turned out that the hospitality industry was a perfect fit. More importantly, he met the woman who would become his wife and with whom he would have three children —13-year-old twin girls and their 9-year-old sister. A busy household, indeed, but there was more.

For a year and a half, Jorge was a TV producer. He created a show called “Hidden Talent” for Westchester’s public access station. Anyone with a special talent could come in and perform before the camera—in any language. This was years before TikTok. Jorge was way ahead of his time, media-wise.

Christie’s story is different, but no less interesting. She started out as a server and quickly moved into management. After a few years, she decided to try something new, and found an office job. The hours were an improvement, but she didn’t enjoy sitting behind a desk all day. She also missed the variety of her previous positions. She began working at a Mexican 4

restaurant known for its catering services, creating special events such as Hollywood Nights and zoo-themed dinners. She’s been working in the hospitality industry ever since.

Christie raised three children during these years of late nights and irregular hours. Now her children are adults with their own children and it is time for a more normal and predictable schedule. She started looking for a job that would draw upon the hospitality skills she had acquired, but with regular hours. She says she has found such a job at Kendal on Hudson.

These days she gets home on time every day, and enjoys working with those she calls the “nice, friendly residents” of KoH. Christie is Dining Room/Catering Manager and Jorge the Assistant Manager. They are everpresent on the floor, quietly working with their staff, but always upbeat and ever ready to leap up to help with a tray or grab the clean-up gear to handle a spill. And they stop and listen the moment residents have comments or issues. They may have management titles, but they are not sitting behind desks. They are hands-on managers.

And the future? The possible complications of “Project Refresh” don’t seem to daunt either of them. “No one knows how Refresh will work,” Christie said, as Jorge nodded his head.

“Maybe it will be inconvenient, but it will lead to a beautiful and updated dining area.”

Lynn Tepper and the Science of Aging Muriel Fox Lynn Tepper is a gerontologist who has spent more than 40 years researching, writing and teaching about the field of aging. But that isn’t the only reason why she’s a perfect fit as chair of the Kendal on Hudson board of directors. Another reason is Lynn’s dedication to hard work. Still another reason is her skill at creative, out-of-the-box thinking. Perhaps the best reason of all is Lynn’s commitment to helping people – especially old people like us.

Lynn has been a member of the KoH board since 2018. She has chaired the board since January, 2022. She serves as Clinical Professor of Behavioral Science at Columbia University’s School of Residents appreciated Public Health, and also at its College of Dental Medicine. It would Lynn’s regular reports fill pages to list all her publications and honors related to the subject on the CEO search. of aging. Lynn’s inspiration for joining the Kendal board could be linked to her authorship of a textbook chapter she wrote as long ago as 1990. It is entitled “Successful Models of Long Term Care.”

In Lynn’s lectures about aging, she frequently refers to Kendal on Hudson as an ideal model.

She ascribes our success to one process: “Socialization.” Lynn admires the tradition that 5

“Kendal people look out for one another.” And we dispel previous stereotypes about old age as we “share an incredible amount of mental stimulation.”

Lynn says her research and teaching focus on “quality of life in later years – how can we make the older years even better?” When asked what has surprised her about Kendal, she replies: “Kendal keeps getting better. It doesn’t rest on its reputation.” She admires how “Kendal fits people’s changing needs as we move through various stages.” She gives KoH “five stars at each level” because of its “attention to detail in quality of services.” She adds, “This is not true at many other senior residences.”

Lynn was born and raised on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. Her father ran a pharmacy across from Columbia University for fifty years. She attended public schools, then the SUNY system, then earned graduate degrees from Columbia in Psychology and Gerontology. In an early job, for the U.S. Army in Berlin, she helped Vietnam veterans overcome psychological distress, before the term “PTSD” was introduced. She lives in Hastings-on-Hudson with her husband, Bill Tepper, a retired veterinarian. One of their daughters directs planning and development for Amtrak. Their other daughter is an emergency room physician assistant in Seattle.

Lynn recently spearheaded the board search for a new KoH CEO. The special committee, which included two KoH residents, conducted twenty-two meetings and numerous interviews.

In discussing our requirements, they ranked “people skills” high on the list. “Each time we interviewed a candidate, we kept comparing their qualifications to those of Jean Eccleston, and Jean was by far the winner. Jean communicates to the board – and to residents – in ways that are easy to understand. And she loves this place.”

When we talk to Lynn’s colleagues on the Kendal board, we learn that Lynn loves this place, too. Aubrey Hawes, a Kendal resident who previously served on the board for nine years, says: “Lynn was always participating, and ready to take on any challenges. She always pitched in. And she has a manner of engaging people in a pleasant way.”

If stars were awarded to chairs of CCRC boards of directors, I should propose we award five stars to Lynn Tepper!

Another Look at Aging I have everything that I wanted as a teenager – only 60 years later. I don’t have to go to work or school. I get an allowance every month. I have my own pad. I don’t have a curfew. I have a driver’s license and my own car. The people I hang around with are not scared of getting pregnant and I don’t have acne.

Life is great.

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My Second Profession, My First Love Jon Masters While I have had an interesting and varied career as a lawyer and problem-solver, my first love – acting – did not go unrequited, as the following excerpts from my autobiography (available in the Kendal Library) will explain.

Acting was always an integral part of my life, indeed my passion. My parents, perhaps unwittingly, encouraged me to find the tools to succeed early on, by taking me to Broadway shows, which I loved, and by reacting uncritically when I announced as a six-year-old that I wanted to be an actor. In effect, they made acting safe for me – a haven where they would not interfere.

I made new friends in the rehearsal process, people I would not normally meet in my social and business circles — although when the show closed or the scene class was over, we usually went our separate ways. While I was rejected far more often for a part by the time I was in my 40s and 50s, I didn’t feel the system was stacked against me, as I sometimes did at other times of my life. That’s what auditions are for. I would try again; my perseverance was ingrained. When it came to acting, I was in charge of my life.

Acting spurred my curiosity – it was imaginative play. I could be anybody I wanted to be. I could give in to my emotions – and I did. I remember playing Brutus in Julius Caesar and feeling like a “big man” because it was the largest part and the action of the play depended on my decisions. As Tony Lumpkin in She Stoops to Conquer, I unleashed my wild teenager self when I stole my mother’s jewels and slid across the stage, knocking down the scenery.

If I messed up, the worst consequence would be a bad review.

One of my proudest moments on the stage was when I was playing the U.S. vice president’s national security adviser giving testimony before a Senate subcommittee. A member of the audience who had actually questioned the adviser came up to me after the performance with the compliment that my hand gestures were just like the adviser’s had been.

Acting served different purposes for me at different times. As a schoolboy, I could forget that I was two years younger than my classmates; as a young adult, I learned how to project the air of a confident, articulate colleague; as a lawyer, I honed my ability to persuade. When I was tiring of law practice, I reenergized on Thursday afternoons by attending grueling acting classes with a lot of enthusiastic kids and beginning to audition again.

Working with colleagues who were emotionally open and exploring the characters I played taught me a lot about people. With its emphasis on how we present ourselves, some exposure to acting is probably a worthwhile pursuit for anyone. Acting wasn’t the only career for me, but a passion for it greatly enriched my life. If – when – you find a passion, don’t dismiss it.

Rather, tread gently. It could be your key to fulfillment.

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‘Sing We a Song of Our First Alma Mater’ Peter Limburg Above is the first line of the alumni song of the elementary school I attended, a private school called St. Bernard’s founded and run by expatriate Englishmen (there were a few American teachers, but the tone was decidedly British). Unlike at the public schools where most other residents may have got their education, teachers — we called them masters and addressed them as “Sir” — were all male, and so was the student body. We had a school crest that we wore on our caps (obligatory). Our school colors were red and white.

Peter’s copy of The St. Bernard’s Songbook, circa l942.

St. Bernard’s School was and still is located at 4 East 98th Street in Manhattan, in an unassuming building practically across the street from Central Park, where we were often taken for walks.

Around the corner on Madison Avenue was Lipshitz’s candy store, which we were told to stay away from.

The school was founded in 1904 and by the time I got there, the desks had been deeply gouged by generations of boys who made grooves and holes with their pencils. Some boys managed to carve their initials. Each desk had a hole in the top right corner for an inkwell. My handwriting was terrible.

We boys were always addressed by our last names. If brothers or cousins with the same family name were at the school at the same time, they were addressed as I, II, and perhaps more. During my time, we had Nelson I and Nelson II (brothers) and Coffin I and Coffin II (cousins). There were almost certainly more, but I can’t remember them.

The headmaster was a gruff but occasionally jolly Englishman, Mr. Jenkins, whom we secretly called “Pop Jenks,” after a character in the funny papers. He taught Class IA, in the Upper School; this corresponded to 8th grade. I began in the Junior School some 86 years ago. I was the youngest and smallest in my class.

Our curriculum did not include science; when one parent suggested adding chemistry, Pop Jenks retorted, “They can blow up their own bathrooms at home.” We did have arithmetic (always my worst subject), English, history — mostly English (we learned a lot about various kings and British heroes) plus French. We began Latin toward the end of our fourth year, which was exciting because it was what the big boys studied. Ditto for algebra. In the fifth year, classes were divided into A and B. From 4-A on (maybe even earlier) we had the detested assignment of beginning each day by writing “C’est aujourd’hui mardi le troisième février,” or whatever the date happened to be.

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In 1-A one of our favorite masters, Captain Fry, treated us to “1066 and All That,” a delightful spoof of English history. Captain Fry, a British ex-officer from World War I, was tall, handsome, gentle, and unflappable. He had a wonderful sense of humor, and we boys adored him. Other favorite teachers were Mr. Strange, who had a large scale model of a steam locomotive on his desk; Mr. Ashton was a short, peppery Englishman who threw erasers and pieces of chalk at us (we boys thought that was great fun); and Mr. Manders, who taught the highest class in the Middle School. Mr. Manders played a game with us when he took us walking in Central Park: tripping us up with his umbrella as we tried to escape him.

We thought that was great fun, too.

Other than walks in the park, every morning except in bad weather we had about half an hour to play in the school yard, mostly tag and such, as I recall. In the upper grades we were put on buses and taken to Starlight Park, in the Bronx, or Dyckman Oval, in northern Manhattan, where the school rented a playing field. There we played soccer (fall) and baseball (spring). I was rotten at both, being nearsighted and uncoordinated and slow. In winter we had Physical Jerks in the gym and sometimes skating in the flooded, frozen yard.

One un-favorite master was Mr. Platt, who was a Texan and insisted that one Texan could whip ten Mexicans. Disappointingly, he was not a cowboy, but he taught us to sing “The Old Chisholm Trail.” We called him Plodger Rat behind his back. Much worse was Mr. Edwards, who taught mathematics in the Upper School. He was a diminutive Englishman with a nose like a parrot and a bald dome, on which the veins would stand out alarmingly when he lost his temper, which was often. He would turn purple with wrath if one of us lost his place in the lesson and asked where we were. Mr. Edwards would snarl, “Page 72 in the Chinese Bible!” or “King Charles’s Head.”

Days began with a hymn from the school hymnal, on whose red cover was the school crest, surmounted by a large Saint Bernard dog straddling a globe. We also had a secular songbook with spirited school songs, like the Baseball Song, which I’ll be happy to perform for anyone interested. We sang these on Friday mornings, along with songs from a commercial songbook, which included some that were passé even then, like “Vanamburgh’s Menagerie,” and lots of Stephen Foster songs.

Each year before Christmas vacation we put on a Shakespeare play. In one I was a servant with one line: “Yes, sir.” In the other I was the Governor of Harfleur and had eight lines —progress! We also had a winter variety show, the Pierrot Show, in which boys with good singing voices dressed up like French clowns.

A vastly different Saint Bernard’s is still flourishing today. Although St. B. did not give us a normal American education, it taught good values like honesty and responsibility and good sportsmanship and keeping one’s word. I do not regret it.

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Tracking the Apollonia Lee Oakes I’ve been living here at Kendal for almost a year. The time has been filled with new experiences, new learning, and most of all, pleasant surprises and adventures.

Let me tell you about an experience, with a few degrees of reach for a connection to Kendal, that was sparked by my daily view of the Hudson River. I was so taken by the number of commercial riverboats that I installed MarineTraffic, an app on my iPhone that could identify them, including names, destination, and all sorts of arcane information.

A beautiful sail boat that delivers the goods.

Photo: Schnooner Apollonia.com

One sailboat that caught my eye was the schooner Apollonia. She is a 65-foot-long steel-hulled vessel, the only working sail freighter in the U.S. Her website tells me that her mission is to demonstrate the power of carbon-neutral sail, rather than fossil fuel, to help solve climate issues. The point is to establish a successful delivery service for sustainability-driven Hudson Valley businesses by using low- or zero-carbon methods from beginning to end.

Apollonia makes frequent voyages from her home base in Hudson, N.Y., as far as Brooklyn, with cargoes of sustainably produced goods for her clients in many along-the-way riverfront communities, including Ossining.

Apollonia’s crew loads, unloads and delivers her cargo by e-bikes, trailers, and human muscle to customers within a mile of the local dock. This limits the use of fossil fuels in the supply chain. Until now this experiment has served everybody’s needs.

One recent afternoon, my daughter, Pat, and her husband, Chandu, who are both involved in climate change and sustainability issues, asked if I’d like to join them as they participated in a delivery from the Apollonia to Sing Sing Kill Brewery, a micro-brewery in Ossining. An unusually large cargo of an over-the-winter supply of locally grown malt/hops (just under two metric tons: 4,300 pounds in 50-pound sacks, to be exact) had to be delivered from the Apollonia, and it seemed that it might be time to experiment with a more robust delivery method than e-bikes with hitch trailers, especially since the delivery route is mostly uphill.

And so Pat and Chandu, and several others, were taking their EV’s (electric vehicles) down to the dock at Schattemuc Yacht Club, on the Hudson River, to load their trunks and serve as an experimental delivery cavalcade. I was invited to come along, to enjoy the beautiful sunset, watch the Apollonia dock, observe the crew and volunteers do the grunt work, and join the group in a celebratory beer after the successful delivery at Sing Sing Kill Brewery.

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All went according to plan. Later, around midnight, when the tides were right, Apollonia and her crew set sail for Brooklyn to make a delivery of sustainably grown Halloween pumpkins to a local craft store. As for Pat, Chandu, and me, we settled in for a late-night bite at one of our favorite local diners, followed by a night of deep sleep.

Surprise! Surprise! Next morning, we learned that the co-owner of Sing Sing Kill Brewery, a pioneer in environmentally responsible breweries, is Eric Gearity, the son-in-law of Kendal residents Aubrey and Sylvia Hawes.

And now each day as I watch the commercial boats plying their trade up and down the river, I wonder about their stories, and allow my mind to speculate about the idea of wind and sail re-emerging as effective solutions to climate change and environmental issues – and also to think how many of us can be part of the solutions in varying ways.

Camping Is Not All Fun and Games Ursula Hahn

Over the years, Ursula took many Sierra Club trips.

My first “down-to-earth” camping experience was a Sierra Club trip one April in the early 1980s. The group met in Panamint Valley west of and parallel to Death Valley National Monument.

Thinking we would be in the desert, I had purchased a summer sleeping bag from the Army-Navy surplus store on 42nd Street.

The first night in the desert valley was very mild with a full moon lighting up the landscape, but the following morning a problem arose, which persisted throughout the trip: the donkeys, packed with our gear and food, had to be kicked to get up and move.

Once the donkeys trotted reluctantly, we quickly gained altitude as we hiked into the Panamint Mountains and made camp near an abandoned mine. A snowstorm moved through the area that sleepless night and a thick layer of snow accumulated on my sleeping bag.

The weather improved. One evening a boy and I had KP; the meal was macaroni and cheese out of a box (how could civilized people call this food?). We were running low on propane gas so we emptied the packages into the cold water, which resulted in an inedible, glutinous glob that had to be thrown away; followed by a rebuke.

The following nights we camped in abandoned miners’ huts, where pack rats were rampant, chewing through baggies and eating our apples and nuts. As we descended into the Panamint Valley again, hedgehog and opuntia cacti had begun blooming in yellow and magenta.

I made sure not to book such a trip again and, above all, to buy a tent. The following Sierra Club base camps in Death Valley and Anza Borrego State Park with an energetic leader 11

were inspiring experiences, although during the first night in Death Valley, a sand storm collapsed numerous tents and blew away fly tents.

After several Sierra Club outings, I graduated to privately organized base camps in the Sierra Nevada, always at 10,000-foot elevation, and each summer at a different site. The California-based leader had developed numerous dinner recipes with ingredients scaled to the number of participants. He purchased the supplies for the 10- to 12-day outings and made arrangements with packers, who had U.S. Forest Service licenses, to take groups to specific sites. He had the supplies and our gear packed in on mules, as well as fresh meat, bread and a birthday cake (there was always a birthday to be celebrated). To set up and take down camp required heavy work by the advance team who rode in with the packer.

These camps were luxurious affairs: a large commissary tent, propane stoves and extra canisters, kitchen equipment and tools; warm and cold cereal, lunch supplies, and fullcourse dinners augmented by fresh-caught trout from well-stocked mountain lakes and wine, preceded by a cocktail hour with drinks of various strengths.

Butter, meat, and other perishables were kept in lidded chests immersed in a nearby brook or lake. Water had to be boiled before use. Some participants brought portable shower bags; otherwise you sat in the cold brook (flowing water, no soap!). But we did have an enclosed toilet.

After several summers of bliss and high-alpine hiking and scrambling, the number of hikers and campers gradually increased, and bears began to appear. Everything with a scent had to be kept outside and at a distance from our tents. Bears learned to open the chests and the contents disappeared. When pots and pans placed outside on logs were disturbed, it meant a bear was in camp and my heart would begin to pound. One night, I heard footsteps as if someone was walking around my tent. In the morning, I found bite marks in my toothpaste tube and “patties” on the brush outside – evidence of a bear’s diarrhea after eating two pounds of cheese the night before.

We started taking turns “sleeping” in the commissary tent. Camping became synonymous with sleepless nights, and I would return to Brooklyn more exhausted than when I had left.

By the tenth and last year of camping in the Sierra Nevada, I found sleeping at that altitude ever more difficult (and then there were the bears).

Thus ended my unforgettable experience of an unspoiled American wilderness, which I would have never known without my Sierra Club friends. More solo camping trips followed in California, Oregon, Arizona, New Mexico, and Utah with their own moments of fear of external danger in often roadless landscapes with only a dirt track. But I never gave any thought to the possibility that I could sustain serious injury while hiking alone, climbing the side of a waterfall, or merely tripping over a rock with nobody to find me. I was then in my early 60s and felt invincible.

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My Solo Marathon Hubert B. Herring I ran a marathon years ago. Actually, I ran several, but one was a bit different. I ran it alone, in the fall of 1978.

How long did I run? Well, always (until my knees gave out). This I remember: I was 8, at boarding school, and my parents had arrived at the far side of campus. I had on my new sneakers, and I can still smell the rich California mountain air, see the tall trees floating past as I ran, as fast as my little legs could carry me.

I had been shunted off to boarding school like an obedient chess piece after my mother had a mental breakdown (I was never entrusted with the details); of course I’d crave any bit of control. And, quite simply, I loved to run.

Another image, a decade later: again at boarding school, in high school now, in New York State. I ran alone through the hills, and once entered a multischool meet, nearly alone, and ran most of the races. Later, in college, I ran track and cross-country. For years after that, if the spirit moved, I dug out my old cross-country shoes and ran a few miles.

But it was not till my early 30’s that the real addiction hit. Addiction: that’s when you don’t decide whether to run, just when. Catching a plane at 7 A.M.? You run at 4. Alone with a 1-year-old? You do 100 laps around the house.

Now consider acute addiction. That’s when you look so gaunt that friends wonder whether to call a psychiatrist or the emergency room. That’s when you decide to do 48 miles, or 52, that week, and that goal rules your life. If you miss a day’s run, your system goes into shock.

That’s when you go for the great overdose: the marathon.

I was, yes, a true addict for several years. Races nearly every weekend, five marathons. I was good at it, too. I was good at something totally removed from the expectations piled on in childhood, totally removed from my father -- the illustrious historian, whose feats I could never hope to match. No, this was mine, all mine.

But back to 1978. I ran occasionally, but I thought you had to be nuts to run 10 miles, let alone 26. But that summer, a four-year romance was crumbling. We’d fight, I’d run off the steam; we’d fight harder, I’d run farther.

I got up to six miles and collapsed on the floor. But I’d crossed a line. I’d heard die-hard runners talk of the high that comes when you run, say, 45 minutes, and I’d gotten my first fix. It went on: seven miles, eight, nine. Floating. Euphoria. Each time I said I was nearing my limit. But I was also getting this ridiculous idea. The New York City Marathon was two months away, and I became obsessed with it. I got to 11 miles, then 13.

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One morning, my eyes bounced open at 4, and I was out to the Central Park reservoir at first light. (Running next to water is magical; if I started the day by the reservoir, that day belonged to me.)

I made it to 16 miles; I’d heard that if you did 16 in training, you could do a marathon. I’m going to do it!

Not so fast. Entries were long since closed, and the New York Road Runners Club fiercely discouraged unregistered runners.

Ethically, I could not run. But I was caught in a powerful rhythm. One morning, as marathon Sunday approached, I was jogging and felt almost a physical longing in my legs. That’s it: I’m jolly well going to do my own marathon!

I didn’t run the day before, wolfed down the requisite pasta, got up at 5, put a bottle of grapefruit juice in one pocket, a bottle of water in the other, and headed for the reservoir.

Under a bright fall moon, a few runners were already out, and I had almost a spiritual sensation as I took my first step.

At first, each step seemed labored. At three miles my legs weren’t working right, no energy.

But I got through it. I had set myself a pace – 9 minutes a mile, 14 minutes a reservoir loop.

But how to keep count? Let’s see: 56 minutes meant 4 laps, and so on.

I floated on, the sun coming up, notch by notch. Every time I glanced east, there it was, one click higher – nature’s own digital clock. More runners emerged, and several times I crossed paths with a man running the other way. “What is that,” he asked, “your fourth lap?”

“Seventh,” I said, and kept floating. Eleven miles. I could run forever.

Oh yes, the wall. I hated to fall victim to a cliche, but at 19 miles my legs simply didn’t obey.

One more step. One more. Maybe two. But I was going to do this unless I dropped.

“At 23 miles I gave out again. Pure stumbling, almost chanting the numbers to distract myself: 17 laps was a bit more than 26.2 miles. Just round it off: do 17. But there’d be nothing left for even one extra step. So: 1.58 miles a lap, 16 laps is 25.2 miles; 16 laps plus a mile.

Make it to 16. Then worry about the rest. I finished 16 laps, another half mile, turned and ran back.

Suddenly, as if a fog had lifted, I became aware of the hordes of other runners. But I felt oddly invisible. I was running, they were running, but they had no idea. Surrounded by runners, but all alone -- what a stark contrast with the camaraderie of a “real” marathon.

Then came a quick, panicky breathing. Then, just as quickly, uncontrollable crying. My brain wasn’t even there. All circuits were down. My body was just crying out its pain, its joy, its relief. A friend passed by and said: “You’re late. The marathon’s about to start.” Late, hell.

I finished half an hour before the rest of them even started.

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What a Day at the Opera Rema Sessler One Saturday in October, three other Kendal residents drove with me to the Ridge Hill complex in Yonkers to attend the HD Metropolitan Opera performance of Dead Man Walking.

The first time I had driven to Ridge Hill looking for the Cinema, I ended up in a gravel pit.

To avoid that happening again, I did a dry run during the week, and on that Saturday, having made no errors, we arrived with time to spare. We confidently circled up the ramps to level 5 in the parking lot and pulled into a spot. I noticed that they were not numbered. What to do for payment?

In olden days we would have had a ticket punched with the arrival time and would have handed a human ticket collector the money owed. Now I wondered: how would we legitimize our parking spot? A man and his wife were nearby looking equally puzzled but clearly making progress. I asked if he had a Ph.D. in Technology. He laughed and offered to help.

We gathered around him with some relief and listened attentively. First we had to photograph the QR cube with an iPhone. Okay, I said, with no clue as to what that was. But I followed his directions carefully. Next Insert name, phone number, home address, email address, license plate number and credit card information. Each time my arthritic finger slipped and caused an error, I had to begin the process again. Our loyal helpers hovered around us to insure that the procedure was implemented correctly.

After thirty minutes we had become buddies and our departure warranted hugs all around.

When the opera began, I found the music much too loud. Because my hearing aids are programmed to my iPhone, I needed to adjust the volume by changing the settings on my phone. I tried to cover the glaring light of the iPhone with my purse, but as I took it out, a woman behind me screamed: “Turn that off.” I ignored her because I didn’t want to create a ruckus. I continued trying to adjust the settings.

Suddenly, she lunged down, attempting to grab my phone. I intercepted her hand and very firmly grasped her wrist. I screamed that I was adjusting my hearing aids and she screamed: “Go outside” and I screamed back that I couldn’t accomplish this outside because I had to hear the volume of the music. My heart rate was rapid. My hands were trembling.

I was clearly agitated but I needed to let it go so that I could give my full attention to the opera. I took a deep breath and settled back in the seat.

During intermission, a young woman approached me asking if I was okay and offering me a hug. She had witnessed the incident and wanted to express her support. I accepted her hug with gratitude.

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The opera was powerful and thought-provoking. I wept at the end, and because I couldn’t open my package of tissues, my mascara and eye make-up were streaking down my face.

As we made our way out of the theater, I recognized the woman who had been so rude and impatient with me. She had skinny legs covered in sleek leather pants, bleached blonde hair and diamonds running up and down the length of her arms and fingers.

She asked one of us condescendingly if we came from a nursing home. If she had asked me, I would have responded that we came from a very special independent living community which would have without a doubt rejected her, since our values were in the Quaker tradition, based on nonviolent and peaceful resolutions.

Driving home, I mused: Could I develop compassion for the murderer, once he confessed his crime and opened his heart to love.

It was a very complex afternoon.

Innocent Sounds Sheila Benedis my hearing is too perfect the crinkle of plastic an invited guest creates a wrinkle in my body chemistry an inconsequential sound innocently wreaks consequences of havoc until a meditation restores order unexpectedly profound

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Index of Kendal View Advertisers Allan Block Insurance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17 All County Car & Limo Service . . . . . . . . 23 Amico Senior Transitions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17 Angels on Call Home Care . . . . . . . . . . . . . .24 C.A.R.S Repair Service . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21 Coffey Funeral Home . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18 Dr. Kevin Jong, Dentist . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18 Dwyer & Michael’s Funeral Home . . . . . . 20 Enrico Hair Care . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 FYO Accounting and Tax Service . . . . . . . 23 Harnik Bros. Jewelers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 Home Again Transitions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23 Hudson Financial Services . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 Hudson Pharmacy & Surgical . . . . . . . . . . 20 Jazz Forum . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21 Mickey’s Automotive . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 Phelps Hospital . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 The Village Bookstore . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17 Van Tassel Cleaners . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20

BETTY AMICO 914-962-5475

Serving Westchester for over 60 years

Seniors Transition Transition Services, Seniors LLC Seniors Services, LLC LLC strans1@gmail.com friend4619@yahoo.com srtrans1@gmail.com Reduce the Stress of Downsizing

SERVICES OFFERED SERVICES OFFERED • Assist You/Your You/Your Family Family in in Vacating VacatingApartments Apartments • Pack Charitable CharitableDonations Donations • Obtain Estimates from Movers •• Achieve Benefit Achieve Maximum Tax Benefit Work Within Your Time Frame •• Work Frame Insured Callfor for Free Estimate Call Estimate 914-962-5475 914-962-5475

Helping to make sure your assets are properly insured.

ALLAN BLOCK INSURANCE

sales@ambins.com | (914) 631-4353 www.allanblockinsurance.com 17

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.

Kevin Jong, DMD & Peter Zegarelli, DDS

87 North Broadway • Tarrytown, NY 10591 • 914-631-1800 Website: www.drzegarelli.com • Email: info@drzegarelli.com The Zegarelli dental office has been located in Tarrytown since 1982. We have been serving KoH residents since the Kendal opening day in 2005.

Coffey Funeral Home Inc. Ninety-One North Broadway Tarrytown NY 10591 (914) 631-0983

www.coffeyfuneralhome.com NANCY COFFEY • MICHAEL COFFEY Long-time Supporters of Kendal View Now in our 5th Generation Continuously Owned and Operated By the Coffey Family Since 1911 Pre-Planning Available 18

P H E L P S H O S P I TA L

SENIOR HEALTH VITALITY PROGRAM Your partner in health and wellness

Please visit the Phelps website to see all of our upcoming programs and support groups: phelps.northwell.edu/events For more information on our programs, please email vitality@northwell.edu or call (914) 366-1150.

For more information on our Caregivers Support Group options, please contact Gaby Naranjo, LMSW at (914) 366-3937 or email gnaranjo@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 health-related classes, events, support programs, and expert care to enhance your well-being.

1. Keeping Memory Alive: Memory Care Offers education and activities to keep your brain stimulated and your cognition sharp.

2. The Breakfast Club Join us for monthly presentations from our physicians and clinical experts on different health and wellness topics, with time for a Q&A at the end of each session.

3. Osteoporosis Program For those concerned about their bone health including bone loss and fractures, hear from physicians, physical/ occupational therapists, and dietitians to discuss risk factors, causes, proper body mechanics, and medication options to maintain healthy bones as you age.

4. Pain Management Support Program This group is for adults of all ages suffering from acute and/or chronic pain who seek more information. It is hosted by our pain management physician Stephen Thorp, MD, and each session will have a presenter and Q&A session.

5. Caregivers Support Group Our Caregiver Support Group is a non-judgmental safe space open to all community members in a caregiving role.

6. Alzheimer’s & Dementia Caregiver Support Group Caring for someone with Alzheimer’s disease can present many challenges and take a significant toll on a caregiver’s health. Fortunately, emotional support groups can provide the assistance and reassurance you need to manage stress and take time for your own much-needed care.

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• Offering Competitively Priced Burials, Cremations, Memorials.

• 75 Car Parking Lot Adjacent to Our Building • Fully Renovated • Both Large and Small Chapels And we are Centrally Located • 5-Star Google Rated Business Reduce stress...PrePlan today Walk-Ins Welcome

We are Available 24 hours a day.

You will always be handled by our family & staff. We fully support Kendal on Hudson.

Our Clients' Words Say it Best “My family and I cannot thank you enough for all the kindness and make sure your loved ones wishes

are met. Walk-ins welcome.

care you showed us during the very difficult time of my aunt’s passing. We greatly appreciate it.” Diana, niece of the late Ana Erlic

“Thank you for taking such command to ensure that our mother was treated with dignity. You are a class act!” The Lopez Family

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WESTCHESTER’S PREMIER JAZZ CLUB 1 Dixon Lane, Tarrytown NY

10 Minute Drive f rom Kendal on Hudson!

EXCLUSIVE OFFER FOR KENDAL RESIDENTS:

2 FREE TICKETS TO ANY SUNDAY PERFORMANCE USE PROMO CODE KENDAL2024 AT CHECKOUT RESTRICTIONS APPLY. NOT APPLICABLE FOR FEB 18.

(914) 631-1000 | WWW. JAZZFORUMARTS.ORG/TICKETS 21

Westchester’s Finest Clockmaker since 1951

Harnik Bros.

J E W E L E R S

Enrico Hair Care, Inc. Enrico Hair Care, Inc. Yolanda is available for pedicure by appointment Mondays EnricoWednesday cuts and styles and Tatiana color KIm does hairconsults color/cutonand styling Wednesdays Hairstyling Fridayby Kim Wednesdays through Fridays Maria does manicure and waxingMaria does manicures Sandra does hair color/cut and styling Thursday and Fridays Hairstyling

by Toni Saturday Fridays - and styling Enrico does hair color/cut Christina does pedicures, manicures and hair.

Call Callfor forappointments appointments 914-523-6382 523-6382 or or 914-922-1057 922-1057

life

I N TR AN SI T ION Wealth management, tax and legacy planning strategies for anyone who may benefit from professional guidance after retirement, loss of a spouse, divorce or employment change.

Let our team help! Call us at 914-762-4760 or visit www.hudsonfs.com.

Hudson Financial Services, Inc. 1249 Pleasantville Road, Briarcliff Manor, NY 10510 Securities and investment advisory services offered through Cetera Advisor Networks LLC, member FINRA/SIPC, a broker/dealer & Registered Investment Adviser. Cetera is under separate ownership from any other named entity. Neither Cetera Advisor Networks LLC nor its representatives offer tax or legal advice. Please consult your attorney or tax advisor for guidance.

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Specializing in

Watch Repair • Clock Repair Jewelry Repair & Remodeling Battery and Band Replacements Tall Case • Ships • Atmos • Carriages

Museum Quality Restoration Since 1951

All Work Done On Premises Free Estimates Pick Up & Delivery

914.631.3224

Harnik Bros. Jewelers 6 North Broadway, Tarrytown, NY 10591

914-631-8868 Keeping the Kendal community mobile with one-stop auto repair services

Mickey Keegan, Owner mickey@mickeys-automotive.com

WE SERVICE ALL CARS FRONT END SPECIALISTS · TIRES WEEL ALIGNMENT & BALANCE EXHAUST REPAIR · HEAT/AC COOLANT · BRAKES · AND MORE!

Free Pick-Up and Delivery for All Kendal Residents www.mickeys-automotive.com

FYO Accounting & Tax Services

BETTY AMICO • In-home service 914-962-5475 • Tax Preparation & Planning • Bookkeeping • Filing & Organizing • Bill Paying

®

Seniors Transition Services, LLC Owner: Jean Mayer, EA strans1@gmail.com Serving residents at Kendal on Hudson Reduce thesince Stress its opening.of Downsizing

Free 1-Hour, In-Home Consultation!

914-862-2305

SERVICES OFFERED jeanmayertax@gmail.com • Assist You/Your Family in Vacating Apartments • Pack Charitable Donations 25% discount to Estimates Kendal residents.

• Obtain from Movers • Achieve Maximum Tax Benefit Off-Season TaxWithin Special: Provide your prior year • Work Your Time Frame tax returns and receive a free review, consultation, Insured and fee quote. No obligation.

Call for Free Estimate 914-962-5475

& limo All County car service inc.

AIRPORT • LOCAL • OUT OF TOWN

Downsizing and Moving does not have to be stressful. Home Again Transitions® are professionals that help you reduce the stress of downsizing and moving so you can enjoy the next chapter in your life.

Getting you from Overwhelmed to Overjoyed!

Why drive when you can call Owner: Marco Araujo Call: 914-703-0501 Or 914-631-2277 Reliable, friendly service to all airports, NYC, local service and trips throughout Westchester, and other destinations.

Competitive Rates

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Caring Super Stars We have earned our Caring Stars service excellence award in 3 or more years

Check Out Our New Dementia and Memory Program!

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