Front cover: Snow on the Kendal terrace, taken by Harry Bloomfeld.
Inside front cover: Twice the impact: a double rainbow caught by Hubert Herring.
Inside back cover: Stained-glass windows in the Ossining railroad station, as captured by Harry Bloomfeld
Outside back cover: Autumn surrounds a brook in Rockwood Hall by Carolyn Reiss
All inside photos (unless otherwise specified) were taken by Harry Bloomfeld.
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, Joe Bruno, Caroline Persell
Advertising
Emil Bahary, Peter Roggemann, Ad Directors
Carolyn Klinger, Coordinator
Founder Jane Beers and Her Start-Ups
Muriel Fox
Jane Beers always thought it was wonderful that Kendal had no social director. “When the residents see a need for a program, we make it happen ourselves,” was her philosophy. From her beginning days as an early resident, Jane was key in starting such committees/activities as Spotlight, our weekly newsletter, the Kendal Chorus, the Kendal Bell Ringers, the Trips Committee, and the Welcoming Committee, which to this day helps new residents feel at home. She also played a significant role in the start-up of Kendal itself.
Let’s begin at the beginning. Jane Joralemon was born in Bryn Mawr, PA, and graduated from Vassar College, where she earned a B.A. in Zoology. She had always liked animals and originally wanted to be a veterinarian.
Instead, she did medical research both during and after her Vassar days. At the National Institutes of Health in Washington, she nurtured two lovable but naughty two-year-old chimpanzees named Siegfried and Brunhilde. Jane’s crew was researching the side effects of tranquilizers.
In 1957, Jane married Stephen Beers, a former Navy seaplane pilot and an executive for nonprofit organizations. Their happy marriage produced two daughters, two sons, eight grandchildren, and one great-grandchild so far. Jane and Steve traveled to all 50 states and visited many foreign countries. They lived in Germany for four years, where Steve represented the Motion Picture Export Association. Jane helped to start a small international school in Frankfurt that is now a large and successful institution. The Beers returned home in 1964, settling in Irvington and then Philipse Manor. Steve died in 1996.
Over the years, Jane was active in volunteer work, including for Phelps Hospital and the local Junior League. For many years, she sang in the choir of Christ Episcopal Church in Tarrytown. And over a total of six summers, Jane ran a morning camp in her neighborhood for 40 children – focusing on creative stuff involving lots of paper, glue, and leaves, as well as swimming lessons in the Hudson.
When Jane heard that a number of people were trying to start a Kendal residence in the Westchester area, she contacted the headquarters of the Kendal Corporation outside of Philadelphia and asked, “How can I help?” She worked with other future Founders like Joan Oltman, who later became an editor of Kendal View, to launch a “Community Connections Committee.” They held meetings in different locations, including New York City, to create a network of people with various interests to help launch Kendal on Hudson. Each meeting included a speaker on a different subject, such as Creating a Library, Recruiting Supporters, Jane has made every one of her Kendal years count.
and Interior Decoration. The last topic was a bust. The speaker advocated apartments with grand pianos, overstuffed furniture, and fireplaces!
When neighbors heard about plans to create this new CCRC, there was a small nucleus who opposed the idea. Jane says, “They didn’t understand. Nobody had heard of CCRCs before. They worried about a bunch of troublesome old people who would use up local resources. They even warned about overcrowded schools until they realized how old we were.” Today, neighbors are unanimous in their gratitude to Kendal residents, who have proved to be valuable citizens of the community.
When KoH finally became a reality, the Mary Powell and Clermont buildings opened on the same day. Jane moved into the latter on May 19, 2005. A month later, she was co-founder of the Spotlight. At first, it was just one sheet with useful facts for incoming residents. Today, it is a must-have weekly.
At the age of 97, Jane tries to walk by the river every day and is grateful for her general good health. “The move to Kendal was one of the best decisions I ever made,” Jane declares. And she has posted an 1868 quote from Henri-Frederic Amiel on her laptop cover: “Life is short and we do not have too much time to gladden the hearts of those who travel with us, so be quick to love and make haste to be kind.”
Editor’s Note: This article, originally written by Muriel Fox, has been reprinted, with some revisions, from the May/June 2019 issue of Kendal View .
Now I Live Here
Angel Acosta
I come from the Dominican Republic. Before coming to the United States, I was an accountant. Now I live in Sleepy Hollow. For three years, I have worked at Kendal in Dining. I have a beautiful wife, two sons, and a granddaughter. My wife and I have been married for thirty years.
I did not study English in my country. Two years ago, I started to learn English with Mrs. Barnett. She is a very good person. The people at Kendal are all very welcoming.
Next Stop: Albany
Pat Taylor
At a recent Residents Council meeting, it was announced that Janet Schloat has replaced another Kendal resident, Harriet Barnett, on the eleven-member Continuing Care Retirement Community Council of the State of New York, which oversees all CCRCs such as Kendal on Hudson.
As of last May, Janet began serving a three-year term. Like Harriet, she is one of two members of the Council who are senior citizens residing in a CCRC — that is, a consumer of the services being overseen by this Council. In summing up her service on the Council, Harriet noted the importance of the consumer perspective on final decisions before assessments and evaluations.
Harriet was originally recommended for the Council by Pat Doyle, then CEO of Kendal. Harriet recommended Janet to the position. Recommended members are appointed by the Governor of New York and the Commissioner of Health. The Council operates under the Department of Health.
The Council meets in Albany two or three times a year, or more depending upon circumstances. It is in charge of developing guidelines and approving applications for new CCRCs in the State, as well as overseeing those already part of the system. Janet will not represent KoH in any way and indeed, would have to recuse herself if Kendal were to be the subject of discussion. Council members are not compensated for their service, though expenses are covered
CCRCs in the State of New York are very tightly regulated and must report periodically on their operations. As an example, when there was a problem recently, the Council invited the director of each CCRC in the State to come in person to present a report on their operation.
Janet moved into Kendal in 2015 from Pound Ridge. This has given her valuable insight into how a CCRC functions on a daily basis as well as over the long term. She is currently chair of the Kendal Election Committee, co-chair of the Music Committee, and also responsible for a subcommittee of the Welcome Committee: the writing and editing of the bios of incoming residents that are posted on the bulletin board opposite the mailboxes.
Before coming to Kendal, Janet was a lawyer in general practice, principally involved with families and real estate. At one point, she worked for Legal Services. This background, along with her experience of living in a CCRC, makes her an ideal member of the Council – and a worthy successor to Harriet.
Editor’s Note: This article is based on material written by then-staff writer Sue Phillips in the January/February 2018 issue.
Taking on a new project is deja vu for Janet.
The Perch
Llyn Clague
On one of those days so beautiful you’re convinced the world is full of wonder –or, at least, you are –I sit on a plank bench, atop a huge boulder, fifteen feet or more above the water.
In the high afternoon sun the lake glitters like a summer night of stars, and three islands, big, mid, little, rise out of the depths like bears, from the bottom of slumber, through a column of nightmares, to lie on the surface, backs arched, green fur falling to the shores.
Motorcraft crisscross the lake space in haphazard patterns –or no patterns –of direction, speed, or apparent purpose.
“Floating living rooms” – platforms on pontoons, slow, genteel, like oldsters on a porch, rocking, pondering.
Out- and inboards – water bugs pulling little kids on tubes or bigger ones on skis.
One skier, very skilled, slides side to side, high-jumps the wake in flashes! like exclamation points! of sunlight and surf!
Teens strut, prance, pose, cavort and dive off a purple plastic, Disney-like float, and their half-distant shouts drift through the air like cries of birds, the harsh squawk of a red hawk, the two cries of a loon, wailing and piercing, the eternal whoo of the owl and mourning dove, a skyful of language, meaning and emotion, without words.
The magnificence of the day –the lake, the mountains ringing the bowl, the depthless blue, and the people, with nothing more in play than play, the essence of happiness –on my bench, atop my boulder, with an unobstructed view,
I confess, with a blink of the mind, I could believe nowhere else is.
Welcome From Our Fitness Director!
Valerie Wolzien
David looks like he loves to spend his time in the gym.
David Pojman is enthusiastic about his job as Director of Kendal on Hudson’s Fitness Center that he’s held since June 2024. He is enthusiastic about how exercise can enhance our lives. He is enthusiastic about the residents he works with. In fact, he’s just an enthusiastic person.
He was born 33 years ago at Phelps Hospital and grew up in Croton-on-Hudson. He left the Hudson Valley for four years to attend the University of Maryland. An athlete in high school, where he played lacrosse, basketball, and football, David realized early that, unlike many of his peers, he was interested in and enjoyed the physical training side of being an athlete. This interest led to his Bachelor of Science degree in Kinesiology, the study of the mechanics of body movements.
After graduation he returned to the Hudson Valley. He worked in Mamaroneck as a personal trainer, gaining insight into the rehabilitation side of kinesiology. His first full-time job as a personal trainer was at the Morgan Stanley corporate campus in Purchase, NY. After a year there he was promoted to director of personal training, and two years later he became the assistant manager of the facility.
David was working full time, but the unusual hours of his schedule left an opening. Instead of 9 to 5, he worked from 1 pm to 8 pm and thus he had his mornings free. Around this time he saw an ad that Kendal on Hudson was looking for a part-time trainer. He applied and ended up working five mornings a week in our fitness center. For four years, his days started at 9 am in Sleepy Hollow and ended at 8 pm in Purchase.
It was during this time that he says he fell in love with Kendal on Hudson. Any initial reluctance he felt about working with an older population quickly vanished. “OK,” he said to himself, “We might have to change things up a little bit, switch the training style a bit, which of course is fine. I’ve worked with all levels, but I was blown away when I started here by the capabilities of the residents . . . these folks are capable of doing some more strenuous workouts than some of the 40- and 50-year-olds that I work with at the Morgan Stanley campus. And I found myself bragging about a lot of the residents here when I would be training at my full-time job.”
David’s title is Fitness Director and his job includes running the Fitness Center, the swimming pool, and the various group classes that Kendal on Hudson offers. Like him, all of his staff are required to be Certified Personal Trainers as they work with residents from Independent Living, Adirondack, and Clearwater.
There’s also a personal training option. Residents can choose between three, six, or twelve blocks of private training sessions. The 45-minute sessions are billed through individual Kendal accounts.
David and staff work closely with Joseph Salvador, Director of Rehabilitation at Kendal on Hudson. Sometimes residents finish their physical therapy program and want to continue their work in the Fitness Center. The Rehabilitation Department and Fitness Center can share programs and progress. This also works the other way around. Residents who have discovered new aches and pains can be referred to the Rehab department right down the hall.
David and his wife, Kristen, both grew up in Croton-on-Hudson and then lived in Stamford while David was getting established in his career. They were married in 2022 and recently bought a home in Cortlandt Manor. Both of their families live nearby. And while he has a few private clients, working full time at Kendal on Hudson is now his life.
Project Refresh is going to make some changes to the Fitness Center and the pool, but David is quick to point out that the pool’s footprint will remain the same. The lockers and bathrooms will be different, but David is at ease with these changes. Having been here during the Covid pandemic and the upgrade to the new fitness technology, David is well accustomed to navigating through change and transitions. After all, he points out, our new gym equipment required some learning on the part of staff and residents, but the end result is a more functional and safer gym for residents.
When asked if he has any advice for those of us who are not regular users of the Fitness Center, David replied, “Whether it be a class that you might have seen on the schedule, but you’ve been hesitant to take, come down and try one new thing, because that can really be what accelerates you to new opportunities and new experiences . . . a fitness center can be a little intimidating . . . I want people to come down and for this to be a place where you can de-stress, clear your mind, see other residents, socialize, and just feel good about yourself when you leave.”
Submissions
As the first issue of the new year is being edited, it’s a good time to remind you of how much we depend on material submitted by residents. (Take a quick look at the writers’ names in the table of contents on page 1.) We invite you to submit that piece you’ve always thought about doing: a slice-of-life vignette . . . a funny episode . . . your unique travel adventure . . . experiences at Kendal. Email your double-spaced submission on Word to Llyn Clague or Pat Taylor or call either to discuss a possible subject.
N.B. There are five more issues in 2025!
It’s a Truly Grand Piano
Cathie Campbell
Kendal on Hudson has a Steinway grand piano. It’s not a concert grand, but a grand piano with all the same features. One that would fit in a living room. Or in the Gathering Room. It was left to us by a Founding resident, Clara Loomanitz, who had been director of the Kendal Chorus in her early years here and subsequently donated the Steinway to KoH in her will. She died in 2008. Since 2015, our Steinway has been maintained by a professional piano technician.
How lucky we are!
The Steinway family started crafting square pianos in 1836 in Seesen, Germany, then migrated to the U.S. in 1850. The House of Steinway was founded in New York City in 1853. Soon, they started making the Steinway grand piano. One by one. It takes 12 months to build a Steinway grand . . . imagine. A soundboard precisely tapered so that it is 8 millimeters thick at its center and 5 millimeters thick at the edges. An action composed of thousands of tiny reciprocating parts which must operate in utter silence so that all you hear is music. Yet it must be able to hurl 88 hammers at more than 220 strings and return them to rest in fractions of a section. A wrestplank which must be built to anchor all those strings under 35,000 pounds tension.
In the late 1970’s, I was lucky enough to be the art director (partnering with a copywriter) asked to create an advertising campaign for the Steinway Piano Company. What an amazing product with a great story! Actually, many great stories.
We met and worked with John Howland Steinway (great-grandson of the founder) and made frequent trips to Queens to the factory on Steinway Street, where they still make grand pianos today. We saw craftsmen forming the curves in many layers of wood for the Steinway Grand, a process that would take months to complete.
Research like this enabled our agency team to come up with an advertising campaign that demonstrated the uniqueness of a Steinway. You could play the music of Rachmaninoff, Liszt, Prokofiev, Gershwin, Mahler and Wagner where it was originally written: on a Steinway. The visual for the ad was a painting of Richard Wagner seated at a Steinway piano. No wonder Steinway is the choice of world-famous pianists. A review of performances scheduled in one music season showed that 184 concerts used Steinways, while only 19 used other brands.
Linda Mahoney makes “Happy Birthday” sound like Beethoven on our Steinway.
One of my favorite ads in our Steinway campaign was illustrated by a handwritten note from the laboratory of Thomas A. Edison. It said: “Gents, I have decided to keep your grand piano. For some reason unknown to me, it gives better results than any so far tried. Please send bill with lowest price. Yours, Thomas A. Edison.” The ad’s headline was: “It’s still a bright idea to choose a Steinway.”
This ad campaign was a pleasure to work on and won many awards. It taught me a lot. And not just about pianos.
My First Piano Teacher
Clara Loomanitz
I had a head full of long, thin curls – fashionable for a six-year-old at that time – when I met my first piano teacher. She was cold, distant, formal, and strict. Whenever I made a mistake, and there were many, she informed me of my misdeeds by pulling on the scrawny curls that my mother had worked so diligently to form that morning.
A penny placed on top of my hand was not permitted to fall off as I played. But it always did, and was followed by a firm yank on my poor curls. I marvel today that I learned to play at all and even persisted in studying, because that teacher created a very insecure child.
But I was thoroughly trained to play the piano. I also resolved to become a teacher, though I would punish no child, not ever, not for anything. No more pulling of hair, no standing in a corner, no humiliations. I had learned all my lessons well.
Thus, my own first experiences shaped my life as a teacher for sixty-five years. The children (and their parents) with whom I was privileged to work were my teachers causing me to observe and reflect upon my own approaches when teaching others. Being in the field of education was never a job or even a profession for me. It was more of a calling, giving meaning and purpose to my life.
Editor’s Note: Excerpted from an article in the September 2007 issue of Kendal View, written by the resident who donated a Steinway piano to Kendal.
Where the Music Is
Ursula Hahn
What’s not to like about Kendal, right here on the Hudson River? Its bucolic location overlooking the majestic river, along with the Palisades in the background and Rockwood Hall Park adjacent, are incentives for future residents. But once settled in, there’s another world to discover at Kendal: that of music.
As someone who frequented New York City’s concert and opera venues, one of my great joys now is the opportunity to hear a wide range of music, thanks to Kendal’s unique feature: its residents who generously devote their time to planning and staging events.
The Music Committee, under the leadership of Fran Kelly and Janet Schloat, organizes the regular series of Sunday-afternoon concerts in the Gathering Room. Since its inception in 2007, the committee has coordinated nearly 300 musical programs, offering everything from timeless classics to lively performances by a local high school jazz ensemble.
Over the years, Kendal has forged a close relationship with Copland House in nearby Cortlandt Manor. Under the leadership of Artistic Director Michael Boriskin, the Copland House Ensemble have been regular performers at Kendal since 2013. Maestro Boriskin, a world-renowned pianist, also teaches a popular music appreciation course each spring to an eager Kendal audience.
Kendal’s Opera Committee, guided by Ursula Hahn and Marcia Sprules, coordinates weekly Saturday matinees in the Gathering Room, featuring productions on DVD from the world’s major opera houses, drawn from the extensive video holdings of several residents.
During the 2024 – 2025 season, Kendal provides transportation to the multiplex at the Ridge Hill Mall in Yonkers to see four Met operas in HD. Ellen Ottstadt, oversees these outings.
Also part of Kendal’s music program are the Kendal Chorale, with Bob Singleton as chair, and the Bell Ringers, whose co-chairs are Cynthia Ferguson and Deb Wood. Each is currently involved in weekly rehearsals for its respective annual concert. Both the Chorale and the
The Bell Ringers are shown at their weekly rehearsal in the PDR.
Bell Ringers are led by professional conductors. In the summer, singalongs of yesterday’s songs arranged by the Chorale waft great waves of nostalgia over the Residents Lounge.
Additionally, Kendal residents can enjoy chamber music concerts sponsored by the Westchester Friends of Music, held at Sleepy Hollow High School’s auditorium, known for its splendid acoustics. Many residents subscribe to this popular series.
And if all of the above is not enough, Kendal has a huge collection of CDs that residents may borrow from a library located on the second-floor balcony of the Mary Powell building.
We are indeed fortunate to have the luxury of being surrounded by music here at Kendal. To quote Aaron Copland, “Music is the language of the spirit.”
The Bus Trip
Martin
Smolin
At 5 a.m., it was already hot and sticky. Ann and I had to meet the bus on Second Avenue near St. Mark’s Place. The sun would not come up for a while yet. We piled into the bus with others, taking sandwiches and drinks. By the time we were through the tunnel, the sun was up. On the turnpike, no cars or trucks were visible. Only buses. Buses four lanes across; buses front and back as far as we could see; a solid phalanx of buses from Boston to Washington.
On the outskirts of Washington: an elderly Black lady on the street raised her hands to Heaven as if praising God. We got out and made our way to the Mall, where people from all over the country were gathering. There was a mule cart from Alabama. People wearing union shirts and caps: AFL-CIO, District 65, steelworkers. Signs from Ohio, Virginia, Maine, towns and states; people holding hands, singing “We Shall Overcome” with Joan Baez; ran into friends we hadn’t seen in years. Way across the sea of Black and white faces, on the other end of the Mall, the Lincoln Memorial, Dr. King giving a speech, amplified, but hard to hear, about a dream.
Got back home at night, exhausted, exhilarated. We felt the world was changing and we were part of it. And it has, somewhat. Hasn’t it?
Sketch by Shelley Robinson.
In the Silence
Llyn Clague
We toubabs (white people) enter gingerly and sit in – or better under – a gwa, a hut with no walls but a thatched roof supported by four crooked poles of cut and stripped saplings. We settle ourselves on wood benches around a table and stare out between, at the wooded countryside of Mali. A slight breeze drifts fitfully through the no-walls, across our faces, and back out into the fields.
Alice and I are part a small group visiting a classmate of hers from a K-12 school in India, who, with her husband, were missionaries, living some 12 years in the capital Bamako after a similar stint in neighboring Burkino Faso. They are taking us, by truck, to visit the villages where their “proselytizing” consists mostly in Joie helping the natives to read and write and John in building simple workshops where they could make mementos to sell to tourists and earn a little money. This is the second village we are visiting, 22 years ago this January of 2025, on a two-and-a-half week stay that would eventually include an airline flight to Timbuktu.
My eyes wander outside where the sun beats down, and I listen to the near-complete silence. There is an utter absence of motors, the engines of modern life, whose sounds can filter through woods from distant highways. There is only a lone small plane passing far overhead like a thin line on a sheet of paper.
Joie presents us to our host, Brema Traore, the village elder. Two other men arrive and she introduces them as Beney Doumbia and Seriba Diarra, neighbors. All three, sitting in a row facing us, are Christians. and as such are somewhat walled off by their faith from society in this Muslim country.
Seriba prays for world peace. “May the kings and rulers hear, and not engage in war and fighting. We are poor, and in need of many things. But the Lord,” he finishes gently, “is bountiful.” Brema further wishes for world peace, and he ends, “Satan covers us in darkness like a blanket, and we need to see the light. But we are only human, and we don’t always seek it.”
Under the gwa, in the depths of this dry countryside, we stare out into the savannah, where the sun beats down and few cows graze, a scene too flat to be photogenic, in a silence too complete to be recorded. We listen to these voices so far from the blare of radio or TV which, in that January of two thousand and three in the Christian calendar, loudly spread the words of our American leaders threatening – no, promising – war.
Surviving to Thriving
Sheila Benedis
From an early age, my son had a learning disability, Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD). In elementary school he would get A’s and B’s on tests, but the report card recorded B’s. He didn’t hand in the homework, which was 50% of the grade. I was told “That’s where he belongs”: a B student. He was refused special school help.
We turned to the outside. A friend suggested a person who used him as her subject for a doctoral thesis. After working with him for months on a weekly basis, the additional fifthgrade assignments were beyond his capacity. His level of concentration was low. He was struggling to survive academically. Fortunately, he was doing relatively well socially.
Next we turned to a professional tester, who suggested an eye examination. This was not the problem. He was given Ritalin for several years. By middle school, Dr Mantarian, who devoted his life to children’s learning problems, was recommended.
The first thing he told me was to get my son a large teacher’s plan book for homework assignments, since he couldn’t manage a small notebook. First success. Over the course of years of weekly sessions, Dr. Mantarian taught him how to compensate for his learning disability. By high school, this knowledge had changed his life. He excelled academically. He made interesting new friends.
By junior year at Hastings-on-Hudson high school, he passed an entry test and started attending a weekly lecture series on physics for high school students at Columbia University. By senior year, he grew to be independent and was accepted at Haverford College. He majored in Physics and Sociology and attained Magna Cum Laude for Physics. He graduated Phi Beta Kappa and had a wonderful college experience, both academically and socially. He went on to attain a doctorate in science education from Columbia Teachers College.
Now he works for the University of Colorado at Boulder on Artificial Intelligence. He says he uses both of his college majors, Physics and Sociology. He has a family and is a good husband and father to two adopted children who are college students. After the kids went off to college, he took piano lessons and now enjoys playing on a keyboard. After being introduced to hiking as a child, he has become a serious hiker. He enjoys hiking in the Rocky Mountains, where he jogs rather than walks. Sometimes the hardest things in life bring the greatest rewards. After struggling to survive, he is now thriving, even without any medicine.
Spat On by a Chimp With HIV
Peter Limburg
In 1992 I got a contract to write a book on lab animals, a subject that interested me from both the ethical aspects and the astounding range of animals—not just mice, rats, and fruit flies, but also pigs, bears, pigeons, squid, and primates (apes and monkeys), to name a few. In the course of my research I visited the National Institute for Laboratory Experiments in Medicine and Surgery in Primates (LEMSIP), in Tuxedo Park, NY.
I was greeted by Dr. Jim Mahoney, the veterinarian, who explained to me the mission of LEMSIP and showed me around the facility. LEMSIP, which was closed in 1997, used monkeys (including 26 species of macaques) and chimpanzees in studies of neurobiology, virology, psychology, and a range of other subjects. Why primates instead of lab rats and mice? Because those familiar rodents are not genetically close enough to humans to give usable results in certain fields. Chimps were especially well-suited because, as our closest relatives, they share 98 percent of our DNA.
As Jim explained the work of his lab, he was especially proud of a small group of chimps that had been successfully infected with HIV. (Although chimps in the wild carry a virus similar to HIV, it is extraordinarily difficult to infect them with HIV.) The goal was to use them in experiments for developing vaccines for humans (in the end this project fizzled).
As Jim led me around the facility, he let me hold a baby chimp (diapered) in my arms. I was touched as the little creature snuggled up to me. Then it was on to the main exhibit. Before we entered, Jim cautioned me not to get close to the chimps‘ cages. “They’re tremendously strong,“ he warned.” They can tear your arm off, and they bite. They’ll try anything to get your attention — screeching, spitting water on you, flinging feces . . . Pay them no attention as we walk through.“
The room was a bare cinderblock enclosure lined with suspended cages on either side. In these the chimpanzees lived. Their excreta fell through the cage bottoms onto the floor, and it smelled bad. Although chimps in nature are very social animals and spend a great deal of time in grooming each other, these research animals could see and hear each other but not touch, which caused them severe psychological stress and made them very angry. (Jim, one of the most humane people I ever met, tried to have his assistants give the chimps psychological enrichment, but under lab restrictions they could not do much.)
With this briefing, Jim opened the door, and the chimps broke out in an appalling frenzy of screaming—probably abuse. As we walked slowly between the lines of cages, Jim commented on individual chimps and how they were reacting to us. The chimps were adept at filling their mouths with water from their water bottles and squirting it with accuracy for a couple of yards. I did get spat on more than once, but I managed not to react and didn‘t get too wet. Afterward, Jim reassured me that I could not catch AIDS from this dousing. Sure enough, I didn‘t, and survived to write this story.
Creeping Incompetence
Hubert B. Herring
The help of Anthony is great, but a son is a son.
Let me make this clear right away: My VCR has never blinked a plaintive “12:00’’ for months at a stretch. I am not, by nature, helpless about these things.
So why, exactly, did I find myself, on a Sunday afternoon three decades ago, pulling out my remaining hair and saying unkind words to my totally innocent dog as I sat amid electronic gear, a Medusa of wires and cables, and a TV producing nothing but static?
Call it creeping parental incompetence.
Much is made of the technological prowess of the younger generation. But a little-noticed side effect is the ineptitude that afflicts parents who cede the role of the household’s chief technology officer to their offspring.
It wasn’t always thus. In, say, 1985, I opened the box of our first VCR — that hulking, costly novelty — read the manual and set it up. And it worked. I set up our first computer, way back when, and it worked. But then somehow everything changed, a new pattern was set.
I can’t remember just when it was, any more than you can remember the moment a headache stops. But one fateful day, when my son, Nick, was 11 or 12, I lugged in a carton containing the latest of the electronic gadgets that flow relentlessly into any self-respecting American household — a new VCR or CD player, perhaps. I turned my back for a few minutes, and before I knew it Nick had it out of the box, hooked up and running.
Hey, I thought, that’s sort of nice. It’s a nuisance to figure out where all those wires go, pore through yet another pesky manual, and I was relieved to be spared this time.
Little did I know what a slippery slope I had started down.
From then on, it was a given that Nick would instantly set up whatever CD player, computer, printer, cellphone, or other digital device that entered the house.
It did gradually dawn on me that my ability to do these things must be slipping. Use it or lose it, they say. But I didn’t think through the long-term consequences of letting these skills atrophy. Never underestimate the power of denial.
Certainly while Nick was in high school it was not a problem. If the computer froze or the VCR failed, we’d just wait for him to come home. We might have trouble getting him to do dishes and other chores, but he loved this stuff, and fixed the electronics without complaint.
Then disaster struck. He went away to college.
Some things he could walk us through on the phone -- how to download a plug-in from the Web, perhaps — but other tasks and repairs had to wait until his next trip home. There was no way around it.
I should note that he does have a younger sister, Emily, and she knows vastly more about the computer than either doddering parent. She’s a master at downloading music files, and can juggle seven instant-message conversations simultaneously (while, of course, concentrating fully on her homework). But, alas, she didn’t get the fix-it gene.
The first signs of terminal helplessness came when I decided to make a built-in desk in the study. After drawing up the design, I prepared to move the computer to Nick’s room during construction. Then I spied the tangle of wires that ran to all the goodies my son had hooked up to the computer over the years — the speakers, the printer, the scanner, that little blinking thing on the floor, that odd contraption hanging on the wall. No, I thought, if I start pulling these wires out, I’ll never in a thousand years get them all back in the right holes.
This, I have to confess, was my cowardly solution: I waited for Nick to come home at Thanksgiving, to have him move the computer to his room. I built the desk. A few weeks later, when he returned for winter break, he moved it all back again. And I hate to say how quick and easy it was for him.
For a month, while he was home, all was technologically well. But after Nick returned to school, I foolishly embarked on another project — building shelves for the basement TV and assorted gear. This, I thought, I could handle. I would just gently slide everything out without disconnecting any wires, then slide it all back onto the new shelves.
I had, alas, badly underestimated the extent of my ineptitude. There was a TV, VCR, DVD player, cable box, karaoke player for his songbird sister, some converter with an unknown purpose — all linked by various cables. Somehow, some things got detached in the shuffle.
I gritted my teeth. I can do this, I thought. I’m a grown-up in the 21st century. I can move a TV set! I carefully followed each wire that came detached, writing down what went where, and reassembled it all with painstaking care.
Triumphantly, I turned on the TV. Nothing but static. I went over every connection again, muttering with increasing agitation. Now this goes here, so this has to go here, and this doesn’t fit anywhere else, so it has to go here. And so on, for a good hour. Fortunately, only the dog was with me in the house to hear the abuse I heaped, steadily louder and more unprintable, on all things electronic. But the end result was the same: static.
Nick? Help!
Salvation was at hand, for the moment: The college year was about over.
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.
• 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.
BEST WISHES FOR 2025
WE WILL CELEBRATE TWO 20TH ANNIVERSARIES
KENDAL ON HUDSON AND KENDAL VIEW
Enrico Hair Care, Inc.
Enrico Hair Care, Inc.
Yolanda is available for pedicure by appointment
MondaysEnrico cuts and styles and Tatiana consults on color
Wednesday
KIm does hair color/cut and styling
Wednesdays
Hairstyling by Kim
Friday
Wednesdays through FridaysMaria does manicures
Maria does manicure and waxing
Sandra does hair color/cut and styling
Thursday and FridaysHairstyling by Toni
Saturday
Fridays -
Enrico does hair color/cut and styling
Christina does pedicures, manicures and hair.
Call for appointments 914-523-6382 or 914-922-1057
Call for appointments 523-6382 or 922-1057
FYO Accounting & Tax Services
• 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 Reduce the Stress of Downsizing
Serving residents at Kendal on Hudson since its opening.
914-862-2305
jeanmayertax@gmail.com
• Assist You/Your Family in Vacating Apartments
• Pack Charitable Donations
25% discount to Kendal residents.
• Obtain Estimates from Movers
• Achieve Maximum Tax Benefit
• Work Within Your Time Frame Insured Call for Free Estimate 914-962-5475
Off-Season Tax Special: Provide your prior year tax returns and receive a free review, consultation, and fee quote. No obligation.
Owner: Marco Araujo
914-703-0501 Or 914-631-2277
Transforming Care for Parkinson’s & Dementia
At Angels on Call
At Angels on Call, we provide award-winning care tailored to those living with Parkinson’s disease and dementia, ensuring comfort, dignity, and purpose at every stage.
Parkinson’s Care: Certified Excellence
At Angels on Call Homecare, we are proud to lead the way in specialized care. We are the first and only Licensed Home Care Service Agency in the country to achieve Certified Parkinson’s Disease Care (CPDC™) accreditation. This distinction sets us apart, ensuring that your loved ones receive the highest quality, Parkinson’s-specific care available, delivered by a team equipped with advanced training and compassionate understanding.
Dementia & Memory Program: Reimagining Care
Our innovative Dementia and Memory Program honors individuality. Our Certified Dementia Care Partners empower those with cognitive changes to rediscover joy and purpose, ensuring enriching experiences and fulfilling interactions throughout their journey.
Contact us today to learn how our award-winning services can support you or your loved one in their journey toward a better quality of life!
