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Kendal View Kendal On Hudson's Bimonthly Journal

Volume 19, Issue 1 September-October, 2023

The View, From the Top Edited by Pat Taylor

Happy Birthday, Kendal View!, Norman J. Sissman. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2 Christopher Robin at Kendal, Bob Root . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4 Health and Wellness: Our All-Important Committee, Muriel Fox . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6 Friendship, Edith Litt. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 Jim Wood: A Man with Roots, Hubert B. Herring. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 Fourth of July Collage, Arthur Brady. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 Lost and Found, Shelley Robinson . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10 Re-Exploring: Europe, 2023—Part One, Llyn Clague. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12 Batman, Martin Smolin. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15 A Fooddendum, Norman J. Sissman. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16 COVERS:

Harry Bloomfeld took this photo of the famous Octagon House in Irvington . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Front Cover An autumnal scene of the hlll in Rockwood Hall Park was captured by Martin Smolin. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Inside Front Cover Gloria Lewit spotted this shot of river birches along the roadway adjoining the north end of Alida. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Inside Back Cover A blanket of leaves on the Lower Trail of the Preserve spelled autumn for Jan Maier. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Back Cover All inside photos (unless otherwise specified) are by Arthur Brady. KENDAL VIEW STAFF Editor Pat Taylor Managing Editor Llyn Clague Editorial Staff Gene DuBow, Doris Eder, Muriel Fox, Hubert B. Herring, Edith Litt, Norman Sissman Photography Editors Arthur Brady, Caroline Persell, Richard Schneeman Advertising Peter McCuen, Director; Dianne Morris, Representative; Carolyn Klinger, Coordinator 1

Happy Birthday, Kendal View! Norman J. Sissman One of the favorite pastimes of Kendal residents (as well as seniors elsewhere) is reminiscing. Recalling and sharing some of the pleasures and achievements of one’s past professional and domestic life often has a bracing effect. It is in that spirit that I will describe some of the history of Kendal View on the occasion of the end of its 18th year of publication. Unfortunately, the names of many of those most involved in the journal‘s past will not be familiar to many of you current readers, but they are here for the record. The founder of Kendal View was Aline Four months after Kendal officially opened in September Benjamin; she had been an editor at 2005, Volume 1, Issue 1 of what was titled Kendal View, Random House and was experienced the Newsletter of Kendal on Hudson, was published. This in literary affairs. She was assisted by was its only cover. In the next few years, as more editorial Joan Oltman, who with her husband, pages were added, the use of four covers, each in four color, Jim, was one of the most prominent of became a signature of every issue – and a tribute to the the group that conceived and worked many Kendal residents who are talented photographers. to found Kendal on Hudson. After Aline died in 2011, Joan and I became coeditors; when Joan retired in 2015, I found myself sole editor. A few years later, Pat Taylor joined the magazine as its first managing editor; she replaced me as editor when I resigned in 2019. Llyn Clague was named managing editor a year later. Today, Pat and Llyn alternate in editing issues. The first issue of Kendal View came out in September 2005, four months after our buildings opened. A rather modest endeavor, it had six pages of editorial, four of advertising, and one staple holding it together. Succeeding issues featured prose and poetry accompanied by a few black and white photographs and illustrations, although the covers were in color from the beginning. KV was first printed by a small printer who was a friend of Joan Oltman’s; around 2011 a larger and more experienced firm, Accel Printing in Mt. Kisco, took over, and it and its successor have been producing it ever since. Over the years, the journal’s length increased – it now comprises 16 pages of text and 8 pages of advertising – as it morphed into its current, more traditional magazine format with the introduction of color photographs. Originally KV was published 12 times a year; then 11, so the two then-editors could have a month off; it became a bimonthly in 2019. 2

Before the first issue appeared, a controversy developed: should the journal accept advertisements? Naysayers pointed out that no other Kendal-wide resident journal had advertisers and others felt that it seemed too “crassly commercial.” However, the affirmative viewpoint prevailed, as you can see. Not only did this decision make Kendal View financially self-sufficient; it provided income for the Residents’ Association, since we have donated our profits (usually a few thousand dollars each year) to the Association. I was the financial manager for the first fifteen years or so; I have mixed memories about two advertisers who were repeatedly late in paying their fees. One delay resulted from a bureaucratic organization with high personnel turnover, so that each year considerable time had to be devoted to identifying the person who could issue the check. The other delinquent was a business owner who simply seemed reluctant to part with his cash. For years, many phone calls and two or three visits to his establishment were required to collect his fee. In 2019 Peter McCuen took over the business role and has managed it with efficiency and aplomb. He is assisted by representative Dianne Morris and coordinator Carolyn Klinger. From the beginning, the writing in KV has been contributed by residents. At the risk of disappointing some contributors by inadvertently omitting those who deserve recognition (for which I apologize in advance), here are the names of some of the most prolific authors. Until 2018, when she resigned, our first CEO, Pat Doyle, wrote a monthly essay presenting the news and views of the administration, entitled “Standing Pat.” I also contributed a column for each issue, “Overheard in the Bistro”; originally it was intended to reveal Kendal gossip, but for lack of material, it turned into a commentary on residents’ activities. To this day, Frank Neuwirth continues to write moving descriptions of his participation in the Allies’ invasion of Normandy and its advance through France and Germany during World War II. Arthur Ash, one of the wittiest men I have ever met (and certainly the funniest retired dentist in existence), composed hilarious verses and laughable short prose. Some of the other frequent contributors over the years (in no particular order): Sue Phillips, Muriel Fox, Edith Litt, Peter Davies, Gene Dubow, and Llyn Clague. Hubert Herring, formerly of The New York Times, is the newest addition to the writing staff. Doris Eder has contributed essential (and meticulous) proofreading for many years. She follows in the footsteps of Gloria Cooper, who established the Chicago Manual as the source of the magazine’s proofreading style. Early features that no longer exist were line drawings that illustrated articles; among those who created these were Jane Hart, Evelyn Rakower and Marvin Siegal. The first photograph editors were Horst Berger and Caroline Persell. The latter continues today with two fellow photo editors – Art Brady and Richard Schneeman. As a team, they produce the photographs, both for covers and the inside of the magazine, that add to the beauty of every issue. Helping to produce Kendal View has been a rewarding and highly enjoyable activity for eighteen years for everyone involved. May this anniversary be just one of many, many more to come!

Christopher Robin at Kendal Bob Root A few weeks ago, I was boarding the elevator on the first floor with Sally Costa, who was returning from her Tuesday Morning Club. The first thing I noticed was her green Winniethe-Pooh sweatshirt with all those wonderful philosophical sayings, and I was immediately inspired to share one of my favorite A. A. Milne poems from When We Were Very Young, which I have always called JJMM: James James Morrison Morrison Weatherby George Dupree Took great Care of his Mother, The inscription in this book Though he was only three. reads: Bobby Root on his third birthday.

I stumbled here and could only recall the essence of JJMM’s losing his mother and that

King John said he was sorry So did the Queen and the Prince.

But I recovered the final line: You-must-never-go-down-to-the-end-of-the-town-if-you-don’t-go-down-with-ME! I was always puzzled and more than a little disturbed by the somewhat dark tone of this poem: As Sally and I exited the elevator, she began to recite: They’re changing guard at Buckingham Palace — Christopher Robin went down with Alice. Alice is marrying one of the guard. “A soldier’s life is terrible hard,” Says Alice. As we proceeded to our apartments – across the hall from each other – Sally continued with what I remember to be all six verses. Most impressive! Before we congratulated each other on our recitations and said goodbye, I shared with Sally some of my concerns about JJMM. The inscription on title page of my very old and worn copy of When We Were Very Young indicates that it was given to me on my third birthday. So I have been wrestling with the fate of Jim (a line in the poem says he was “commonly 4

known as Jim”) for many years. The title of the poem, “Disobedience,” has only added to my bewilderment. I asked Sally if she had any thoughts about what happened to his mother, and why Milne had published a poem with such a dark message for very young children. She didn’t. Ann and I are great fans of Milne. On a wall in our apartment we have a poster from the 1997 New York Public Library celebration of Winnie-the-Pooh and Friends. The poster is comprised of photos of Christopher Robin’s original stuffed animals — Winnie, Tigger, Kanga, Piglet and Eeyore. These imaginary friends were inspirations for the poems in When We Were Very Young; Now We Are Six, Milne’s second book, and the books that followed. These books offered wonderful accounts of Christopher and his friends, their adventures and their philosophies of life. The next morning on our doorstep were three papers from Sally — printouts of the two poems, “Disobedience” and “Buckingham Palace,” and a psychological analysis of JJMM that suggested that Milne might be anticipating neglectful parents of the 1960s. I remained unenlightened, and will most likely continue to struggle with the disobedience of Jim’s Mum. But the delightful exchange with Sally helped me see that that Christopher Robin is alive and well at Kendal.

In 1997, the New York Public Library created this poster for an exhibit titled “Winnie-the-Pooh and Friends,” featuring the stuffed animals treasured by Christopher Robin, the son of author A.A. Milne. The story of Winnie-the-Pooh continued in two more classic children’s books, in which the anthropomorphic teddy bear is depicted as slow-witted, but kind-hearted and capable of profound insights into human behavior. 5

Health and Wellness – Our All-Important Committee Muriel Fox The Health and Wellness Committee embodies two special qualities of Kendal on Hudson: First, our Quaker values of sharing and caring. And second, the spirit of volunteerism that leads us residents to take action on our own. The committee’s past accomplishments and plans for the future make up a long, long list.

Dr. Jennifer Gardy chairs a committee of 16 members.

The committee, which meets monthly, follows a mission “to support residents’ physical, emotional, social, spiritual and intellectual well being.” That includes residents in all our communities: Independent Living, Adirondack, Clearwater and Sunnyside.

Jennifer Gardy, M.D., has chaired the committee since the summer of 2021. (Dot Bone had led it diligently from the time KoH began in 2005.) Current members are: Cynthia and Stan Amberg, Rita Benzer, Barbara Bettigole, Llyn Clague, Joe Costa, Gene DuBow, Ann Root, Barbara Schainman, Catherine Trapasso, Mary Alice Walker, Barbara Wallach, Valerie Wallace, Hanan Watson and Susan Yao. They liaison closely with Lisa Wacht, our Administrator of Health Services, also a member of the Committee. Whenever there’s a special need, the committee pitches in. Two successful offshoots are now autonomous. They are the Tuesday Morning Club, in which independent-living volunteers join in social interaction with Adirondack and Clearwater residents, and the Friday Morning Club serving residents of Sunnyside. The committee has also consulted on organizing a new Parkinson’s Support Group. A monthly kaffeeklatsch with the Director of Nursing is in view for the future. In addition, the committee is working with Ellen Ottstadt to integrate residents of Adirondack more closely into IL activities. A breakfast discussion with 30 to 40 residents has led to a new Friends of Adirondack group (informally known as the Adirondack Buddies) that Jennifer Gardy terms “very reassuring, as we all contemplate the possibility of our own future relocation.” They aim to foster social interactions with Adirondack residents and encourage them to participate in concerts, lectures and other IL events. The project will absorb people who enter Adirondack directly from the outside world, as well as residents who enter from Independent Living. The committee’s numerous education projects have included talks on Hearing Impairment, Normal Memory Loss and Dementia, Low Vision Problems, and End of Life Issues and Hospice, among many other topics. Future talks will include Patient Experience at Phelps and Utilizing Medicare Effectively. 6

Residents often turn to the committee with questions about health care. For instance, it has advised us on emergency use of the new Care2You connection, plus local Urgent Care providers. (For a list of providers, click on Catie, then Important Documents, then Resident Care Center Information, then Local Urgent Care.) The committee also educates us on issues of safety, such as grab bars in showers, the MOLST forms, and PETs. They keep abreast of current Covid statistics, and are planning a lecture on our personal responsibility in decisions regarding masking, spacing, eating together, and other safe practices, should Covid surges recur. A fruitful meeting with the Marketing Department resulted in plans to develop a pamphlet that will educate prospective residents on what health and wellness facilities and support they can expect at KoH. Jennifer Gardy came to KoH in 2016. She and her now-deceased husband, an internist, expected to move into Kendal in Crosslands, Pa., but switched their allegiance on learning of the new Kendal on Hudson going up in Sleepy Hollow, closer to their New York City roots. Jennifer attended planning meetings and placed a deposit in 2002. She moved here seven years ago. In addition to Health and Wellness, she serves on Spotlight, the Consultation Committee, and the Library. Jennifer was born in Manhattan, earned her M.D. from NYU School of Medicine, and served for 56 years at Columbia University Irving Medical Center as a pediatric endocrinologist. She produced dozens of valuable research articles. On the medical board of Genentech, she aided a study of synthetic hormones. She has two daughters and three grandchildren. One daughter is a licensed mental health consultant. The other works for the American Friends of Magen David Adom, Israel’s emergency medical ambulance and disaster relief agency. We’re indeed fortunate to have our Health and Wellness Committee headed by a physician with Jennifer’s expertise and dedication.

Friendship Edith Litt My great-grandchildren, triplets living in Minnesota, had been promised a trip to the Washington Zoo to see the baby panda. Of course, my entire East Coast clan went to join them. While walking in the Zoo, we passed by the big ape house and there, curled up in a window, was an orangutan. I happened to be close to the window. I looked at the orangutan. He (?) looked back at me and put a hand on the window. So I put my hand “on” his on the other side of the glass. We looked into each other’s eyes. We smiled. We moved our hands together, playing. We laughed. We made friends. Neither I nor my family who were there will ever forget it. It was thrilling. 7

Jim Wood: A Man with Roots Hubert B. Herring Jim Wood was brought up as a Quaker, and he says that has had a big influence on his life – a life devoted to environmental causes and historical preservation in Westchester County. His roots here are deep. He was the steward of Braewold Farm in Bedford, purchased by his ancestors in 1809. As a pioneer in local land preservation, Jim was an early supporter of what became the Westchester Land Trust. Thanks to his efforts, the family home and farmhouse at Braewold (Jim has no relatives still living there) form a historic district known as the Woodpile, listed on the National Register of Historic Places. The decision to leave the farm, which they sold just before moving to Kendal in 2005, came down to this: “Our farm was running us,” Jim said, “not the other way around.” The family’s library of rare Quaker books and papers constitutes the largest collection of family papers held by the Westchester County Historical Society. Jim Wood has been involved in every phase of life in Westchester.

Jim has been widely recognized for his contributions. In June, he was presented with the prestigious Sy Schulman Award at the annual meeting of the Historical Society, an award established a decade ago to recognize an individual or organization that has demonstrated a strong commitment to historical research and historic preservation. “I know of few individuals so qualified to receive this award,” said Patrick Rafferty, the Society’s associate director. Among other leadership roles, Jim was a board member of the Bedford Hills Historical Museum, and a long-serving trustee of Haverford College, from which he graduated in 1950. Jim and his late wife, Twink, were Kendal founders, and played a large role in making Kendal what it is today. Jim served for a time as vice-chair of the Kendal board. Jim and Twink met at a country club wedding in 1953. They had two children — a daughter who lives in New Zealand and a son who lives in Montana, both of whom have inherited Jim’s passion for farming. He has 6 grandchildren and 6 great-grandchlden. Soon after getting married, Jim and Twink looked for a way to reciprocate to all the neighbors and friends who had been so generous. “There were plenty of cocktail parties,” Jim said, “but nothing for everyone.” So every year for some 45 years they held an annual ice cream social, attended by as many as 650 people. One of Jim’s pet environmental causes is a group known as Bedford 2030, a Katonah-based nonprofit devoted to reducing greenhouse gas emissions 30 percent by 2030. By the way, Jim’s other life was in the corporate world as an investment manager at Prescott, Ball and Turben in New York City.

Lost and Found Shelley Robinson or

What do a Clam Rake, a Diamond Ring, and an Acoustic Guitar Have in Common? Episode 1: A Clam Rake One August Sunday afternoon, Nick and I waded knee-deep into the warm, salty water of Wellfleet Bay outfitted with tight-fitting water shoes, sunblock on necks and noses, and our official Town Shell Fishing Permit pinned to Nick’s cap. As for the other amateur clammers we could see in the distance up the beach, our single round gray metal basket with an empty milk jug tied to it with a piece of string for ID and one long-handled rake marked the simple tools of our trade. For what seemed long enough, I watched Nick bending over, stepping backward slowly dragging the rake along the sandy bottom, standing up to rest his knees, then bending over, walking backward and doing more rake-dragging along the sandy bottom. I drank in the view of the horizon while Nick gradually moved a distance away. That’s when I saw something floating toward me, an object I couldn’t identify at first. It didn’t appear to be a live creature like an octopus or a giant lobster, but it was dark and heavy-looking, definitely moving or bobbing in my direction. I looked around for someone to confirm my sighting. Nick was out of shouting range and nobody else was there. I reached out to touch it and then I grabbed hold of it. The short, antique wooden handle just fit into my palm. I bent over, stepped backward, dragging it along the sandy bottom until I met my first clam. The Town Shellfishing Warden told me, as we headed home, “You can keep it! Nobody’s claimed it. This is your lucky day.” Episode 2: A Diamond Ring The waiting room at 34th Street Penn Station was full, but I found a seat near the electronic schedule board and I settled in with my morning New York Times to wait for the 10:30 Northeast Regional arriving from Boston on its way to Washington, D.C., for grandson Justin’s Parents’ Weekend at American University. I had plenty of time to read and make up stories about the couples and families traveling by train.

I was startled by a voice nearby. She was a classic bag lady, camped out at the end of my short row of seats, and I kicked myself for choosing to sit so close to her. I agreed to watch her pile of stuff while she went to the ladies’ room. I was rewarded by a sympathetic glance from a passenger across the aisle. I waited to make my own final bathroom run until the clock on the schedule board gave me just five minutes left before my train. I felt annoyance rising but was relieved to see the bag lady approaching on her crutches. With a wave in her direction, I hurried to the women’s restroom. Something sparkled on the floor of my cramped toilet stall. “A diamond,” I thought. I snatched it up and hustled out to wash my hands. The NYC Police at their satellite substation near the toilets shrugged it off and pointed me to the Amtrak official at the entrance to the waiting room. She felt her ear and exclaimed, “Well, it ain’t mine!” In a flash I knew what I would do with the diamond earring. I rushed back over to check my track number on the electronic sign and gave the diamond earring to the bag lady. She smiled and held it up to her nose. “I’ll wear it!” she said. Episode 3: An Acoustic Guitar The weatherman had predicted a snowy mix with temperatures hovering in the low 30s when I set off for my morning walk in Rockwood Hall that December morning. I chose the upper trail that circles past the sledding hill, the weeping beech and William Rockefeller’s mansion site. The Hudson River was fogged in across to Nyack, with the usual stiff wind from the northwest, and it began to snow lightly as I passed the purple martin nests on the right side of the cobbled carriage path. That’s when I noticed, a little ahead of me on the second bench beyond the giant oak on the left side of the path, a long black figure. It didn’t have the silhouette of a person but it was something familiar. A long black guitar case. Not a soul around to talk to, and right away I imagined dark possibilities: a booby-trapped bomb, someone lurking behind the oak tree just over the hill ready to jump out, a trap for a music and nature lover, an insane follower of Pete Seeger. The scenarios were endless but turned more benign in the freshness of that quiet winter morning. I circled the bench, getting closer, the way the Chicago PD do on TV. I unzipped the case about two inches, noting bits of mud, tree bark or sap stuck to it, and peeked inside. Nothing was ticking or ominous except for flaccid strings. The familiar shopper’s syndrome crept over me: quickening breath, rapid heartbeat, rationalization of why I needed to possess or rescue this thing, and the potential boasting flights of one face to face with prize prey or an unparalleled bargain. But I was determined to do the right thing: finish my walk and leave the mysterious guitar for someone else to discover or reclaim. Unless it was still there when I headed for home . . . 11

Re-Exploring: Europe, 2023 — Part 1 Llyn Clague Venice. Green water was the first thing that struck me on my first steps out of the hotel in Venice. I remembered the canals, of course, snaking through the city, lapping up against foundations and stone steps. But I had forgotten the intensity of the color. Doubtless, slipping toward my late 80s, this will be my last trip to Europe. I remember certain things so vividly from my first trip, in my teens (“Railway cars are smaller than ours!”). In fact, what I most want to keep, or keep awake, is that sense of wonder, newness, excitement. So many impressions at my age fall into established categories, into where-thatfits, rather than an awakening. I am traveling with family – my daughter Melissa, her wife Steph, their two boys Jeremy, 18, and Brandon, almost 15, and my wife Alice. With much discussion and research, Melissa and Steph planned and arranged every step of the trip, hotels, transportation, highlights to visit but also time for relaxation and spontaneous activities. A map, a map! My wish is for a plain, two-dimensional, paper map spread out on the table, physically detailing Venice’s alleyways and byways and waterways, instead of lines jumping around on a screen. Ah, I glimpse two tourists over there unfolding a map.... But what I quickly come to realize, and see it reinforced continuously throughout the trip, is how incredibly useful the technology is. Scan passports, boarding passes. Plot bus and train routes, buy or exchange tickets electronically. With a particular app, allow each member of the group to wander off and track each other to reconnect. So, so different from the old days. The water traffic is spellbinding. Gondolas, of course, oarsmen in their distinctive blue sailorlike garb. Public transportation, like buses, on the Grand Canal. Construction barges, waterborne “trucks” to delivery packages and goods of all kinds, all kinds of private and personal motorcraft, crisscrossing, zigzagging, plodding or zipping, every one motorized except the archaic gondolas. We take a ride on a “bus,” go under the Ponti di Rialto, then later climb it and from the top gaze at the great canal and the buildings lining it shining in the sun. We take a water bus to the island of Murano. We want to see the seawall Venice is building to protect the city against the ocean, but it is unavailable. We do visit a glassblowing factory (glassblowers were kicked out of Venice long ago after their ovens set off multiple fires). We get bleacher seats just a few yards from a master who makes a flying horse in front of our eyes. Afterward, Melissa and Steph buy a set of unique drinking glasses for their home and Alice buys a gift for a Kendal friend. Padua. My first glimpse reminds me of something absent in Venice: buses, trams, cars. Vehicles on wheels, on the ground. Back to normal city life. The Prato della Valle is a huge square in the center of town, a grass oval circled by a canal. Padua dates to pre-Roman times and was a Roman town. The square is one of the largest 12

(second only to Red Square in Moscow) and most evocative in Europe. In Roman times it was a vast theater, used for chariot races, public spectacles, parades, etc., well into the Middle Ages and beyond. I visualize such events, flashing back through studies in history and back even to prep school Latin. Its current configuration, with the central green island called Isola Memmia after the family that designed and funded much of it, includes a series of statues of figures mythical and historical (only one woman). The buildings surrounding it date from the 1770s and ‘80s. Each of our generations – Alice and I, Melissa and Steph, Jeremy and Brandon, contribute to lively discussion about the square. A delightful find near our hotel is the Museo del Precinema, also known as the “Museum of Magic Visions” or “Chamber of Wonders.” It houses a fascinating collection of magic lanterns, stereoviews, pantoscopes (or “Mondi Novi”), shadow theaters, optical games and musical instruments, all of which, starting in the 18th century, “testify in a multifaceted way [to] the path that will end in 1895 with the birth of [cinema].” Beyond the variety (Turkey, the Near East, even Java, as well as Europe) and sheer ingenuity, I am intrigued by the pervasive fascination with magic and illusion through the centuries. A visit to the Scrovegni Chapel, which houses an outstanding collection of Giotto murals, was less rewarding. We were shepherded in as a fairly large group and, after a prescribed time, back out. Much of the art, high and distant, was hard to see, harder to really appreciate. To Tirano. Hop-skip-and-a—gli-i-itch—jump, not to the well-known Torino, or Turin, but a small town on the Swiss border. From Padua we travel south-southwest to Bologna (hop), north-northwest to Milan (skip), then in principle (jump) northeast to Tirano, all via excellent Italian trains. In the big Milan station, however, the Tirano train is not listed on the board. Crisis! This change is the only one in our entire trip where we have a tight window. Melissa and Steph scramble, asking uniforms here and there, and at the last minute we make a different train, going in the right direction but only part way. Then a bus to another town, and a further train to Tirano. Gli-i-itch indeed. Walking to our hotel, we stop on a bridge spanning the river through town, speculating on the spaced rocks (planned or accidental), whether the high stone walls were needed to control spring runoff, and, over our shoulders, the first snow we see on the Alps. This is our last stop in Italy, and before leaving the country I have a most impressionistic, utterly unscientific, impression. In the 1950s I saw a photo, or a cartoon, of four Italian men, all in their little sports cars at an intersection, all turning left, each grille pointed at a rear fender. Gridlock! All four men standing beside their cars, yelling, waving their arms, each demanding the other back down. That image, apochryphal as it might be, epitomized for me a swagger, a bravado, an attitude that I find entirely absent on my short 2023 stay. Tirano was on our itinerary as the starting point for the – Bernina Express, a special narrow-gauge railway through the Swiss Alps. It is to be a highlight of our trip. We have not only first-class tickets but also reserved seats in the Observation Car. We board the next afternoon and ride up, twisting up, for perhaps 45 13

minutes. Panoramic view of the great mountains, a “rainbow” of green (grass, leaves, dark pines), Alpine flowers pinpoint spots of yellow. About a quarter of the way to Chur we stop. We’re told a train on the track ahead of us has jumped the track and we will have to detour. We also learn, belatedly, that the train we were supposed to catch was indefinitely cancelled yesterday due to a landslide. Communications from the train people is, again, minimal at best. At one point Melissa has to press the train’s emergency button; the engineer backs us into the station and says, “You have two minutes to catch that train across the tracks!” What little there is is online, and some of that only if you have the right app. We do a train-bus-train-train-train, amid considerable uncertainty and scrambling for information, arrive only an hour or so late. As the drama subsides, the disappointment rises. Yes, we were delivered from Tirano to Chur, but without the great panoramic views of the Alps we had so looked forward to. Chur, pronounced “Kur,” is reputedly the oldest city in Switzerland. In the southeast corner, more or less west of Vienna, it is evolved from a prehistoric settlement. In the City Hall we see a model of the city as it was in 1835, before much of the outer wall was torn down, fragments of which we see later: after a mid-afternoon siesta and dinner, in the cooler evening air we do a self-guided walking tour of four featured tourist sites. One is the Zschaler House with a notable façade; across a small Platz, in a high window, is a “gallows” – a crane for lifting firewood into an attic. Another commemorates a 1399 battle and a leader killed in it, but the highlight, off script, is an Alphorn concert (see below). The horns are 8 to 10 feet long, with their mouths resting on the ground and the player standing and blowing at the other end. The lyrical melodies resound in the large Platz, and you can imagine long looping echoes in Alpine meadows. It is truly special. See Part Two in the next issue.

Photo by Stephanie Smart 14

Batman Martin Smolin One summer night in Croton around three in the morning, deep in sleep, I thought I felt something brush across my forehead. When I felt it a second time, I woke up. I thought at first that it was a bird that had gotten into the house somehow. In the nighttime darkness it swooped back and forth. It could only be a bat! “Ann, there’s a bat in the room.” “No bat. Go back to sleep,” she murmured heavily. I switched the light on. The bat didn’t like this and swooped out of the room. It flew to the bedroom next door and clung to the curtain. I closed the door, trapping it in that room. But what to do now? Ann didn’t like it either and was up now, wanting to know what was going on. “There’s a bat,” I said. “What are you going to do?” In a small village, there is one obvious thing to do: I dialed the phone. “A bat? An officer will be right over.” And someone did come right over. It was a rookie officer. I had never seen him before, although I knew all the other cops. This was his first week on the job. He was assigned night duty because no one else wanted it. “Where’s the bat?” he asked, somewhat shakily. I showed him. He hadn’t a clue what to do. “Cover your head,” he said, We peeked into the closed, dark room. The rookie played his flashlight around the room and illuminated the bat. “What do we do now?” I went to the kitchen, returning with a threequart pot. I put the pot over the fearsome beast, trapping it on the curtain. Slipping the lid over the pot without losing the bat was tricky. We went outside and set the pot in the middle of the street. When I pulled the lid off, we both recoiled in expectation of a possible explosive Dracula-like apparition. But the bat seemed comfortable and showed no inclination to move out. My policeman gingerly tapped the pot with his shoe. No results. Was the bat dead? The officer kicked the pot harder. Apparently, the bat did not like this disturbance and suddenly flew out, disappearing into the night. “I guess you’ll wash that before you use it?” he queried, getting into the patrol car. Next day, I was driving in the village, when a patrol car passing in the opposite direction beeped me. It was Mike, another cop. He braked, lowered a window and smirked, “How’re you doing today, Batman?” 15

A Fooddendrum Norman J. Sissman About a year ago, Kendal View published an essay in which I listed some restaurants in our area that I consider especially delicious and attractive. Judging by the feedback I received, some readers found it interesting, some amusing, and some even went out to sample the eateries. Now, I have the temerity to add five more eating-out recommendations. The first two specialize in seafood. Bistro 146 in Pleasantville is a small, surprisingly quiet room. Its presentation of a variety of seafood and wines is excellent. Its dinners offer a delicious and restorative end to what might have been a stressful day. On the other hand, in Port Chester, Saltaire invites feasting and celebration. It is housed in a spacious former factory with attractive brick walls. Its menu has the longest and most varied list of creatures from the briny deep that I have ever encountered in a restaurant of this type, including some in Manhattan. It offers at least eight different types of mollusks on the half shell, many imaginative crab, squid, octopus and lobster preparations, and an excellent selection of fish, very tastefully prepared; all served with pleasant dispatch. The main downside to Saltaire is that Port Chester, on the eastern side of Westchester, is quite a schlep from Kendal; but if you happen to be in the neighborhood, try not to miss it! Next is a Chinese restaurant in White Plains called Aberdeen. It shouldn’t surprise anyone that this spot was called to my attention by our resident of Scottish lineage, Nick Robinson. Nick also enlightened me about the origin of its un-Chinese-like name; Aberdeen is the name of a district in Hong Kong. It was probably established in the late-nineteenth century during the West’s imperialistic predations in China. With its emphasis on Cantonese style food, there is little here of the tongue-tingling spices of Szechuan. Instead, Aberdeen offers an impressive variety of yummy dim sum, served in an immaculate, light-filled dining area. Finally, here are two sources of Italian cuisine. The Cookery, in Dobbs Ferry, advertised as a gastropub, does not offer what most of us consider typical Italian cuisine, but its versions of old favorites are creative. Its specialty for large groups is a suckling pig dinner, which I have not tried. For the past two years the Cookery has been a Michelin Bib Gourmand pick. The biggest downside to the Cookery is the high noise level from its usual capacity crowd. However, there are outdoor dining tables you can reserve. An older, more traditional restaurant is Donato’s Trattoria, which has occupied the same site in Briarcliff Manor for twenty-two years. Its menu is impressively long with a panoply of pastas, pizzas, and paninis, zuppe, insalate and entrees, including veal marsala. I find its pizza dough only slightly above average in quality, but the varieties of pies and the list of diverse, sometimes unusual toppings is appealing. A small perk is that its room’s musical background plays songs mainly from the mid-twentieth century, which can arouse a feeling of pleasant nostalgia in some. Bon Appetit! 16

Index of Kendal View Advertisers

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

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