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From left to right: Carlos Casas, Amy Duffy, Lawrence J. Haertel, Nora Bouhaddada and Ken Mulreed.

Recognized by Barron’s Respected by peers Focused on clients UBS salutes Lawrence J. Haertel for being named to Barron’s Top 1,000 Financial Advisors list. Larry and his team strive to provide the highest level of quality service and timely investment advice. The Haertel Group would like to thank our clients for their support and friendship over the years. Lawrence J. Haertel Senior Vice President–Investments The Haertel Group One Lafayette Place, 2nd Floor Greenwich, CT 06830 203-862-2179

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THE BEAUTY OF LOVE by Jorge and Laura Posada A Memoir of Miracles, Hope, and Healing.


AIN’T NOTHIN’ BUT… A ‘T-T-TEA’ PARTY! by John Francis Hoctor Is this a movement or a public relations campaign?


FICTION: RANCHO MIRAGE by Joanna Gleason A personal chef gets too personal.




by Judith Marks-White My mother, the cougar.


THIRD EYE We’ll always have Elliot Erwitt’s Paris.

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TRAIN OF THOUGHT by Daniel Asa Rose The coolest kid in class.


THE LOCAL SCENE Ticked off, Writopia Lab and community leaders.


BALANCE SHEET by Kevin Corcoran Down and Out on Wall Street.


THE ARTS Where to Look, Listen and Learn around the region.


PARENT TRAP by Ina Chadwick My father was a legend, not only in his own mind.


THE HEALING AGENT by Dr. Andrew Kornstein Cosmetic surgery is an art, as well as a science.


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SOUND INVESTMENT by Tom Sherman Put whole life insurance into your diversified portfolio.


RURAL PALATES New Haven rates a visit; Chef Prasad Chirnomula’s expanding realm.


NEXT STOP GRAND CENTRAL Primetime in the Meatpacking District and fall premieres.


LIKE A ROLLING STONE From the Sundance Film Festival to London’s West End.

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GENERATIONS by Erin Levi One hundred years of Manhattan’s Veniero’s Pasticceria.


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Editor & Publisher Editor Art Director Executive Editor Travel Editor Editors at Large

Eric S. Meadow Celia R. Meadow Tim Hussey Debbie Silver Susan Engel Paula Koffsky Rich Silver

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Contributors: Ina Chadwick, Kevin Corcoran, Ryan Cornell, Alexandra van De Kamp, Joanna Gleason, Richard Grayson, John Hoctor, Mike Lauterborn, Erin Levi, Krista Richards Mann, Cathryn Prince, Daniel Asa Rose, Howard Sann, Laura Shepard, Tom Sherman, Carly Silver, Nana Smith, Noah Wunsch, Gail Zawacki, Mary Kay Zuravleff. Contributing Photographer: Suzy Allman Cover Illustration: Dave Cutler Distribution Manager: Man In Motion LLC


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At the beginning of junior high I was unexpectedly taken under the wing of the coolest kid in class. I didn’t know why he saw fit to choose me; all I knew was that my world opened – I suddenly became aware of all I had been dreamily oblivious to in grade school: that there was such a thing as popular and unpopular kids, that girls favored the popular ones, what power was. I had never paid special attention to anyone before, but I made up for lost time by understanding that Eric was of Swedish descent, a Viking hero, dangerheaded and goldenhaired, with transparent eyelashes; I was instantly moony for him, my eyes puppyish with love. I was like a rookie catcher from some dusty farm league, plucked by a star Big League pitcher to be his partner. Anointed. In the rigid caste system of junior high, we were at the top, and under his Norse tutelage I was his second in some spectacular afterschool adventures. We leapt off a rope swing into a canyon full of boulders and somehow – because he said we wouldn’t — didn’t snap our ankles. We jumped onto ice floes and rode them out beyond the bridge. We tossed a coin for math class homework and astounded the class by getting heads 20 out of 20 2 2 W E S T O N M A G A Z I N E G R O U P. C O M

(203) 451-1967

Weston Magazine, Rye Magazine, Westport Country Capitalist, Greenwich Country Capitalist, New Canaan Country Capitalist, and The Upper East Side Magazine, Issue #42, are published 4 times per year by Weston Magazine, INC. P.O. Box 1006, Weston, CT 06883. Email: Tel: 203/227-5377. Copyright 2010 by Weston Magazine, INC. All rights reserved. Weston Magazine/Country Capitalist/Rye Magazine/The Upper East Side Magazine are trademarks of Weston Magazine, INC. The contents of this publication may not be reproduced either in whole or in part without the consent of the publisher. Weston assumes no responsibility for unsolicited materials. Print subscription rate: four issues, $100. Back Issues, $10. Attention Postmaster: send address corrections to Weston, P.O. Box 1006, Weston, CT 06883. Printed in Canada.



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times. We found an exploded dynamite casing from where they had blasted boulders to make Interstate Route 95. We were sprayed by a skunk and had to bathe together in tomato juice. We sat for hours in his tiny windowless converted closet of a bedroom — the ceiling slanted to the floor — that smelled horrifically of his baseball cleats, and it was here that we perfected a best friend’s slap-handshake routine that became the envy of our classmates, and here that he confided his secret wish to catch an atom bomb falling from the sky, which we both thought was the most heroic thing imaginable — to make a final gesture as futile as it was noble. To kick off the beginning of mid-winter break in a blaze of glory he even burst his appendix in school one morning without complaining, just stoically sitting in class until he calmly said, "I think I should see the nurse." He spent the entire break in the hospital, prohibited from seeing visitors,

ingly short time to put out the fire, but our afternoon was in tatters. Our clothes and hair smelled like smoke. The firemen advised Eric and me to separate and go home; the chief would call on our parents that night. My heart was enflamed. It had suffered so many emotions in such a short while — excitement, panic, fear, relief — that it felt like it had been soaked down with a fire hose and now was spongy with the next emotion: apprehension. What would my parents say? When the fire chief came to our house that night to make sure I wasn't a pyromaniac – and to offer the advice that a bed sheet would have worked better, because it wouldn’t have shredded — my parents amazed me by consoling me. I was grateful, and even allowed my mother to stroke my hair that night with my head in her lap, one of the only times in my life we both were in the mood to let such tenderness take place.

WE TURNED AND BEHELD A FRAGMENT OF BURNING TOWEL FLOATING LAZILY BEHIND US IN THE WIND, LANDING IN THE ISLAND OF CATTAILS JUST OFF THE ROAD. with no phone in his room, so the only way I could communicate with him was to send him an envelope. With wild hyperbole, but also with more simple thrilling dash than I would ever again have in my life, I enclosed only a single thing inside: an ace of diamonds, a wordless reminder that he would recover and continue being my hero. One afternoon that spring, when he was back in full swing, Eric and I came up with the after-school idea of making a torch by wrapping old towels around the end of a broom handle and dunking it in gasoline. Then we went running down the road near my house yelling "Hail Methusah." When we got to the bridge, we turned and beheld a fragment of burning towel floating lazily behind us in the wind, landing in the island of cattails just off the road. Instantly Heart's Island exploded. Like a dream that was both slow motion and fast motion at the same time, the flame went "woooomph." Right before our eyes a third of the island was engulfed in crackling, rustling, real-life fire that singed Eric's eyelashes and made my fingertips go cold. Stunned, we ran up the street and banged on the doors of unoccupied houses. Neighbors left their doors unlocked in those days, and we pushed one open and found the kitchen phone and yelled for the operator to connect us with the fire department. The instant the connection was made, we heard the siren go up a mile away, and we ran outside to see one of the sights of our lives: a sheet of bright orange flame as high as the telephone wires. We waited with our hearts in our throats for the two or three minutes it took for the volunteer fire trucks to arrive, and with them what seemed like the entire town: babysitters pushing strollers while eating Milky Ways, kids straddling bikes and enjoying the show. It took a surpris-

2 4 W E S T O N M A G A Z I N E G R O U P. C O M

THE FIRE was the end of my friendship with Eric, however. Because just after the siren went off and while we were waiting for the fire trucks to arrive, something awful had happened. Eric started whimpering — just a tiny noise that rose from his gut with the sound of the siren. I wanted to whimper myself, there on the street hearing the fire trucks get closer. But I wouldn't tolerate it. "Buck up, Eric," I told him. I had no idea where those words came from. I didn't even know the expression "buck up," and I was mystified as to where I found the brute authority to speak it. Shocked, Eric obeyed. He cut off the whimper midsnivel. We got through the fire, we survived the reprimands from teachers and the congratulations from classmates the next day in school. But our friendship was doomed. Eric and I stabbed at it a few months more, but he never forgave me, and by the next year he hated me. WHO WAS "Methusah?" It wasn’t until the end of our teenage years that I realized our cry of "Hail Methusah" was incorrect. It should have been "Methuselah" — the oldest man in the Bible, the grandfather of Noah who lived to be 969 years old. I would have liked to consult Eric as to why a couple of glory-starved children would choose to mangle a biblical name as they burned down an island of cattails, but by that time we were not only not friends. Eric’s body had decided not to live to the age of Methusaleh, or anywhere close. He was dying of leukemia at the age of 19. I went to see Eric in his hospital room shortly before he died. We had gone our separate ways after the fire. He hated me for continuing with advanced placement courses while he dropped to the middle, for starring in the senior class play while he was a stagehand, for scoring high on my French SATs even though I had just gone down the rows, filling in dots at

random. His shame defeated us. Where once we had performed a best friend’s slap-handshake routine in the hallway, by the end of high school we passed without nodding. But he was wounded and I had to reconnect. On a visit home from college I went to his room in the local hospital. He looked like a fallen hero in his white bed, a slain gladiator. He was still so charismatic that he had gotten his nurse to fall in love with him, which struck me as neat a trick as catching an atom bomb falling from the sky – making one final act of heroic futility. There was so much I wanted to talk to him about. In our quest for glory, did we maybe fudge the coin toss a bit for that math homework; maybe it was time to own up to the fact that there were a few tails in the mix. I had found out that Heart's Island wasn't a real island after all; it was a peninsula. I wanted to talk to him about how peninsula was such a sad

chemotherapy and I told him it looked cool. Because it did. Even dying, Eric couldn't not look cool. He was glad to hear that, but again we fell into silence. We strengthened each other by being there together; we also weakened each other. We were old friends who knew things about each other no one else knew, yet we weren't friends any longer at all. I felt like an imposter; I felt like his only ally. We were uneasy and awkward and phony with each other; at the same time we were relaxed and true. We consoled each other, and made each other disconsolate. Our silence was profound. After a few minutes it was apparent that it was time for me to go. I got up and approached his bed. We both knew it would be the last time we would lay eyes on each other. I reached into my pocket and pulled out an envelope for him. Inside was a single thing. His eyes filled with tears. It was the only time I ever saw my Viking cry.

ERIC’S BODY HAD DECIDED NOT TO LIVE TO THE AGE OF METHUSALEH, OR ANYWHERE CLOSE. HE WAS DYING OF LEUKEMIA AT THE AGE OF 19. word. One time in fourth grade the only kid who knew its definition was someone who had stayed back. Mrs. Wilson was startled. "How did you know that word?" she asked. "My father taught me," he said. And the whole class had been touched and sad, picturing Jay with his father sitting around with a map at night, the father trying to teach his slow-learning son something. And succeeding. Eric had been there, in that fourth grade class, and I wanted to talk to him about that; and other equally sad heroic things that I knew the juniorhigh schooler in him would appreciate, maybe even about his leukemia, if we could. Was it the cleat-reeking airlessness of his boyhood closet bedroom that made him sick? Was it our fire that had somehow scorched his blood, or my unforgivable words that had so deeply shocked him? Mostly I wanted to tell him that I had figured out why I had said the thing I’d said, that I had borrowed his grandeur to say it, that it really came from him! — what I had learned being his puppy dog, how I imagined he would have acted in that situation — even though it happened to be me who was granted the wherewithal to voice it. But we couldn't. We didn't. There was nothing to say. We who had once sat jabbering together naked in a tub of tomato juice now sat silent in his over-dry hospital room. He asked me how his hair looked after the

"Bye Danny," he said. "Bye Eric," I said. He tucked the ace of diamonds under his pillow as I left. ❉ Daniel Asa Rose is the author of LARRY'S KIDNEY: Being the True Story of How I Found Myself in China With My BlackSheep Cousin and His Mail-Order Bride, Skirting the Law to Get Him a Transplant... and Save His Life (Morrow, ©2009.) A NEA Literary Fellow for 2006, Daniel won an O. Henry Prize and two Pen Fiction Awards for stories in his first collection, Small Family with Rooster. His first novel, Flipping for It, a black comedy about divorce from the man's point of view, was a New York Times New and Noteworthy Paperback. Daniel is the author of HIDING PLACES: A Father and his Sons Retrace Their Family's Escape From the Holocaust, a saga that intermingles a taut current-day search for the hiding places that saved his family in World War II with memories of the author's own hiding places growing up in WASP 1950s Connecticut. He is currently the editor of the international literary magazine The Reading Room. 'Ace of Diamonds' was first published in, Summer 2008.


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THE THINGS THEY PAID FOR WERE LARGELY DETERMINED BY NECESSITY. They paid for help around the house: someone to clean the bathrooms, vacuum as well as dust, and dry mop the wood floors. Eventually, they paid someone to empty the flaccid broccoli and slimy lettuce from the refrigerator and then fill the refrigerator with crisp, locally grown vegetables whose shelf life was more like a half-life. They paid someone to plan nutritious, budget-minded meals and make the accompanying grocery list, which they passed to the someone they paid to fill the refrigerator. For a little extra, the former would hand the list to the latter. They paid someone to help them have another baby and someone to take care of the new baby. They paid someone to plan an addition to the house and someone to build the addition. Then they paid someone to sue the person who stopped halfway through building the addition. They paid someone to patch the cracking, flaking plaster resulting from the addition’s construction. They paid someone to sand and prime the new plaster, choose wall colors, and paint their walls in the chosen colors. They paid someone to watch the paint dry. No, not really; that would be silly. But after the paint dried, they paid someone to frame, mat, and hang pictures and a mirror. They paid someone to prepare their taxes. Although they paid their taxes and their taxes paid for schools, they paid for more innovative and challenging schools than the ones paid for by their taxes. First, they paid someone to test their children and suggest forward-thinking schools that offered blacksmithing, Japanese, or Japanese blacksmithing. Then they paid to apply to schools. They paid someone to drive their children to and from their schools, and they paid someone to tutor their children in Japanese blacksmithing. They paid someone to invest any money that remained after the things they paid for. The first piece of advice they paid for was not to invest any money they couldn’t afford to lose. They were given the pitch for height technology, a predicted growth industry to offset the obesity boom, and because one of them was still paying for an older brother’s taunt about not being fat, just being six inches too short, they paid to invest in low-tech height tech. Alas, no one was interested in growing taller, only wider. Also, the market tanked. They would have paid someone to wrestle their funds back but for the waiver they had paid to have notarized. They paid for elves. Because they’d paid for a holiday trip to Morocco, they paid for the early delivery of an organically grown and naturally flameretardant Douglas fir. They paid for the “Victorian Package,” wherein couples in period costume of velvet and brocade sing holiday-ish carols and decorate the tree. The elves were just part of the whole gestalt. They paid someone to walk and feed the dog while they were in Morocco.

Usually they paid someone to stay at their house, but this time they paid someone to come by in a van equipped with individually belted doggy car seats and drive the dog to a compound where dogs romped in copacetic playgroups during several sessions that they paid for each day. The dog reportedly loved it, so they paid someone to walk the dog when they were back in town but at work. They paid someone to wash the dog. Then the dog died; no one’s fault, really. They paid someone to keep an eye out for a new dog. They paid someone to train the new dog and someone to train them so they would not undo the progress the new dog had made. They paid someone to clean the carpet before the new dog’s training fully kicked in. Nostalgic for Morocco’s coast, they paid someone to teach them how to sail in five easy lessons. They paid for five more lessons. They paid for one of them to have lunch now and then with the sailing instructor. They paid for one of them to have a full day of sailing lessons, sunup to sundown, and for refreshments, including some excellent Pinot Grigio and phyllo-dough pastries layered with dates and ground almonds soaked in honey. They paid for marriage counseling. They paid for rent on an efficiency apartment until the counseling fully kicked in. They paid for a beach house, nothing much, just a getaway within driving distance, but it was cheaper than the efficiency and it was an investment they could see the water from. They thought of that all by themselves. Because the place was in such rickety shape, they could bring the dog, whose training had paid off. There was barely room in the hybrid for them, the children, the dog, and their gear. So they left the children behind. No, that was a joke. They were joking a little more often these days. They paid for a joke book, and they left it in the bathroom at the beach house. They paid someone to clean the beach house bathroom, which had an undiscoverable source of spiders and crickets, not to mention the usual beachy mildew and conical piles of sand. They paid for a small used sailboat. They paid for chicken necks and a spool of string, and after sailing, they’d sit on the dock and catch blue crabs for dinner, tossing back the females and the ones who still had some growing up to do. They managed the drive to the beach about twice a month, but they also paid a realtor to rent the place, which ended up paying for itself. Friends marveled at their luck and their new routine, but they felt they’d paid dearly. They paid to frame the bullet they’d dodged, which was money well spent. And they paid for sunscreen in bulk, because as much as they were enjoying the face of the sun shining upon them, they didn’t want to pay for it later. ❉ Mary Kay Zuravleff is the author of two novels, The Bowl Is Already Broken and The Frequency of Souls. “The Things They Paid For” is an homage to Tim O’Brien’s iconic story, “The Things They Carried.”


i saw mommy ki$$ing citicorp BY RICHARD GRAYSON

The Chairman

of the Federal Reserve Board is getting a $200 Visa cash advance at a Chase Manhattan ATM on Broadway. He is waiting patiently to hear the sound of money being counted in the teller machine. Already he has put in his card, identified his PIN number – 1933, the year the Glass-Steagall Act was passed – and given the necessary commands. Looking down, the Chairman notices empty crack vials at his feet. The tops of them are mostly yellow, with some blue and a few black. The Chairman wonders who manufactures these vials, what kind of profit they make, whether they pay federal taxes, and if any Federal Reserve member banks have lent them money. Still nothing is happening at the ATM. The woman at the ATM next to the Chairman’s, an actress whose character on a soap opera hasn’t had a story line in a year and who is now used only in crowd scenes like funerals and weddings, has already gotten her $100 from her Chase checking account. And she punched in her PIN number – 6606, assigned to her by the bank – two minutes after the Chairman punched in his. The actress takes back her ATM card and the receipt, which shows that she has $456.34 in checking, and glancing at the Chairman, leaves the lobby. To do this, she must press a button that makes a highpitched sound. The door opens, and she is on Broadway. Her place is taken at the left hand ATM by a man who has tested positive for the HTLV-3 antibody but has no symptoms of AIDS. He wants to deposit a check from his aunt. The Chairman is still waiting for the money-counting sound to begin. 3 4 W E S T O N M A G A Z I N E G R O U P. C O M

In her apartment in Trump Tower, the Chairman’s mother is waiting for him. She has been disconsolate since her husband, the Chairman’s stepfather, died of lung cancer last year. Her late husband had smoked two packs of Pall Malls every day since he was fourteen. He died at seventy-nine, which the Chairman thought was pretty good for someone who had been that familiar with nicotine for so long. The Chairman smokes only cigars. Naturally he does not inhale. Oh Nigel, the Chairman’s mother thinks, I miss you so. Thinking that her son must be delayed by important Federal Reserve Board business, she decides to take from her videocassette library a certain tape. She places the tape at the mouth of her VCR, which swallows it obligingly. Turning on the TV monitor to channel 3, the Chairman’s mother simultaneously presses the “record” and “play” knobs of the VCR and then realizes in horror that she is erasing the tape she wants to play. Pressing the “stop” button, she rewinds the tape to its beginning and then presses only the “play” button. Chuck Woolery is asking the audience whether they think Roger, a black Army captain, should go out with date number one, number two, or number three. The Chairman’s mother has inadvertently taped a minute of “The Love Connection.” Then there is a moment of grey fuzziness and belching noise before she sees the video image of her late husband.

Nigel’s daughter had interviewed him two months before he died. She wanted to know all about her father’s life. “The games we kids played in those days were fun,” says the dead Nigel. “Stoop ball, punch ball, johnny-on-the-pony, ringalevio...” Stepping back, holding the remote control unit, his widow presses the freeze-frame button. Nigel is frozen in mid-reminiscence. His mouth is open. A Pall Mall is about to enter it. The Chairman’s mother reverses the action, watches her late husband backwards. On “The Love Connection,” the audience has selected date number two for Roger. Roger seems very happy about it.

At LaGuardia Airport, in view of the Fed Chairman’s mother should she turn her glance away from the TV and out her western window, the Comptroller of the Currency is on the Eastern shuttle. He has to get back to Washington. He has gotten his ticket by using his Diners Club card, given to him by the federal government. The Comptroller of the Currency has pushed his charge card through a scanner, which has read the magnetic stripe on its back side and has spit out his ticket. The ticket costs $60. The Comptroller of the Currency is uncomfortable in his seat. These shuttles are like cattle cars, he thinks. No wonder Eastern Air Lines is in such bad financial shape that it has to be taken over by another airline, the parent company of its LaGuardia shuttle rival. On the other airline they give passengers bagels, even on evening flights. The Comptroller of the Currency doesn’t mind not getting a bagel, for in his carry-on luggage is a shopping bag filled with a dozen bagels from H & H Bagels on Broadway. They are the best bagels in the world. H & H’s slogan is “There is no substitute for excellence.” If H & H has not been written up in the new edition of In Search of Excellence, the Comptroller of the Currency thinks, it is only because the company is too small or because the authors have not sunk their teeth into one of H & H’s warm, soft sourdough bagels. In Washington you cannot get a good bagel. 3 6 W E S T O N M A G A Z I N E G R O U P. C O M

“Excuse me,” says the fourteen-year-old girl sitting in the seat next to the Comptroller of the Currency. “Yes?” he says. “Aren’t you somebody famous?” the girl asks. “I think I’ve seen your photo in The Wall Street Journal.” “Young lady,” says the Comptroller of the Currency, “The Wall Street Journal does not print photographs.” “Then maybe it was in Vanity Fair,” she says. Reaching into his carry-on bag, the Comptroller of the Currency offers her a sesame bagel.

Three blocks from H & H Bagels and their excellent slogan, the Fed Chairman is still waiting for his Visa cash advance. “Uh, sir, maybe you should call for assistance,” says a man on line, the deputy press secretary for the Controller of the City of New York, a politician under indictment on seven counts of extortion. “What do you know?” says the Chairman sarcastically. “Your boss can’t even spell his job title right.” Nevertheless, he picks up the phone next to the ATM. A woman’s voice comes on the line. “Thank you for calling AT & T,” she says. “You’re welcome,” says the Chairman. “I’m trying to get money from my Visa and it’s not working.” “Have you tried selling it to Haitians?” she asks. “Or those refugees from Sri Lanka, I forget what they’re called. Those people would pay a pretty penny for a valid visa.” “My Visa is valid,” the Chairman explains. “The ATM seems to be stuck.” “That’s why you should choose AT & T for your long distance service,” says the woman on the phone. “Companies like ATM may promise lower fees but their service is horrible. Does ATM give you automatic credit for wrong numbers?” “I’m sure I entered the right number,” the Chairman tells her. “I’m the Chairman of the Federal Reserve Board. I ought to know my own PIN. Can’t you give me any information?” “Try NYNEX for directory assistance,” the phone woman offers. Some of the people on the line at Chase

Manhattan get impatient. Two of them are carrying handguns.

The Comptroller of the Currency hates takeoffs. At LaGuardia there’s one runway that goes out into Long Island Sound and he hates the idea of ending up in the water if the takeoff doesn’t go right. But it does go right, and the Comptroller of the Currency is on his way to the nation’s capital. Below, an air traffic controller at LaGuardia files a report of a “near miss.” It is her third this week. Her superior, who’s been around since 1967 and who didn’t go out on strike and get fired in 1981, takes the report and shrugs.

“Are the Mets playing at Shea tonight?” he asks the air traffic controller who filed the report. “I can’t keep up with everything!” the air traffic controller shouts. In a minute her tears will be smudging her mascara. Twelve thousand feet up, the Comptroller of the Currency feels relieved when the seat belt light goes off. The girl next to him is on her second raisin bagel.

The Ambassador

from South Korea is walking out of the Benetton store in Trump Tower’s rose-marble atrium. The Reverend Sun Myung Moon, one of his countrymen, has declared the Benetton stores a front for a Soviet spy ring. “Look at the crazy symbol on their logo,” the Rev. Moon

is quoted as saying. “That has to be some kind of Communist thing.” The Ambassador thinks not, glad he has bought a Perry Ellis matching sweater and skirt ensemble. In the middle of the night he will go into his bathroom in the embassy and try it on. “Ambassador Park,” says an elegant old lady. He knows he has met her somewhere, but these American faces are all the same. “We met at the Leveraged Buyout Ball at the Helmsley Palace last autumn,” says the lady. “I’m the mother of the Chairman of the Federal Reserve Board — you know, the man who controls the monetary supply.” “Ah yes,” says the Ambassador. “I remember you well. And how is your pragmatic son?”

“Dear lady!” he says. “Help me, someone, this elderly racist has collapsed!” A police officer comes to the rescue. She bends down close and puts her hand on the old woman’s neck. “Does she have a pulse?” asks the Ambassador. A crowd is beginning to gather around a mime around the corner. The mime is making fun of the way people walk and gesture. Since the mother of the Chairman is unconscious, she is of no use to the mime or to the crowd. The police officer, also Korean, touches her hand to her nose and sniffs. “The lady has a pulse, all right,” she tells the Ambassador. “What I was doing was smelling the perfume on her neck. Unfortunately, I think your com-

chief regulator of all Federal Reserve System banks – the Comptroller of the Currency regulates all nationally chartered banks that are not part of the Fed – believes that it is only a matter of a little more time before he has ten twenty-dollar bills in hand. In the meantime the thirty-fourth floor has gone up on the new co-op across the street and one of the homeless people who was displaced by the new construction has died of old age on one of the benches on the islands on Broadway. Passing the Chase Manhattan branch where the Chairman is awaiting contact with Visa or the Plus nationwide teller system, a man walking a purebred Jack Russell terrier points to a “NO RADIO” sign on a parked car’s wind-

If H & H has not been written up in the new edition of In Search of Excellence, it is only because the company is too small or because the authors have not sunk their teeth into one of H & H’s warm, soft sourdough bagels. “I’m afraid he’s stood me up for dinner. I was about to walk down Fifth Avenue to the Godfather’s pizza restaurant across from the library and get myself something. Would you care to join me, Ambassador Park?” “Delighted, dear lady,” he responds. “But I am Ambassador An, not Ambassador Park.” The mother of the Chairman smiles. She is too old to be embarrassed. “Well, I knew you were Korean, so I figured I had a good shot with Park. Most of the fruit stands in Manhattan are run by people with that name. And some of the Hyundai dealerships too, no doubt.” Passing St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Ambassador An is about to give his companion a faint rebuke, but he notices that she looks faint. Then she passes out.

panion is the latest victim of the newest wave of product tampering.” “My goodness,” says the Ambassador. “What is it?” “We got word from Bloomingdale’s that some joker has been taking bottles of Poison perfume and filling them with liquid Tylenol. Apparently this lady was wearing the tainted scent...” An ambulance pulls up to the curb, and paramedics take away the Chairman’s mother while the Ambassador is questioned by young Officer Park.

Meanwhile, back at the ATM on the Upper West Side, the Chairman is still waiting for his Visa cash advance. Everyone else is using the other teller machine. The Chairman,

shield and tells his wife, “See, I told you people are getting less materialistic.” She sighs. “I know, I know, if we wait long enough, the Sixties will come back again.”

Getting off the Eastern shuttle at National Airport, the Comptroller of the Currency is summoned by the public address system. He takes the call at a ticket counter where a perplexed customer service representative is looking at the latest automated reservations system work station and thinking, I remember when printers were people like my Uncle Joe and not just peripherals. “Comptroller of the Currency here,” says the Comptroller, ignoring the woman’s thoughts. “This is the Chairman of the Federal

Deposit Insurance Corporation.” “Yes?” “We’ve got trouble.” You’re telling me, the Comptroller thinks. Wait till my wife finds out there are only eight bagels left.

On the

twenty-first floor of the World Financial Center, Quynchi Cao, proofreader and word-processor in the Junk Bonds Division of Shearson Lehman/American Express, is reading legal documents that are a necessary concomitant to the coming merger of the nation’s biggest auto supply company and the third-largest bank in Tennessee. Someone could make a fortune if they knew this news, thinks Quynchi. Too bad for me I’m too poor to indulge in insider trading. You really need a million-dollar-a-year salary to do that right, setting up phony bank accounts in the Cayman Islands and such. I have a hard enough time finding anything I can afford at Benetton. “Well, enough multitasking for one night,” says Quynchi’s nominal boss’s boss, an investment banker who wants to get back to his family in Orange County. “Did you leave the Wysiwyg report for me to proofread?” asks hard-working Quynchi. “No, unfortunately not. I took the floppy that contained it home with me last night and was working on it on my PC when my wife called me into dinner. When I came back to our media room, my little boy was playing some adventure game on the computer.” “So?” “So my son says that the Wysiwyg document is now in a cave guarded by a sleeping dragon. Extreme caution is called for.” Quynchi nods. As she looks out the river to New Jersey, she wonders if this could be as bad as the typo that got by everyone at The Wall Street Journal. When a columnist touted “punk bands” instead of “junk bonds,” the office was in turmoil for weeks – though Quynchi did get to meet those very nice guys in The Vomit Seekers.

In their Georgetown home, the children of the Comptroller of the Currency are watching MTV. 3 8 W E S T O N M A G A Z I N E G R O U P. C O M

In a La-Z-Boy recliner in the back of the room, their father wonders why he had children. They are no longer an asset, he thinks, but a discretionary acquisition that requires tremendous upkeep for twenty years. The Comptroller’s female discretionary acquisition is watching the broad shoulders and boyish smile of Xerox Sankabrand, lead singer of the Vomit Seekers in the group’s top ten video, “Information in Motion.” Clutching dollar bills and plastic money, Xerox is surrounded by scantily-dressed girls as he sings: I pay my Visa bill with my MasterCard So what’s the commotion? Money’s just information in motion, Information in motion, Information in motion... In his La-Z-Boy, the Comptroller of the Currency eats the last of the H & H Bagels, more convinced than ever that there is no substitute for excellence and that children are not cost-effective.

they eat their breakfast. Another works on an article about a Tofutti vendor who went berserk on Wall Street and put ringing AT & T Nomad cordless phones next to the ears of passing stockbrokers as he said, “It’s for you.” The subsequent noise permanently deafened these men. Another reporter is about to take off for Coney Island, where a splinter group of terrorists is making life miserable for barefoot beachgoers on the boardwalk. “Somebody, go uptown and cover that teller machine story!” shouts the city editor. He is an Australian.

In the newsroom of The New York Post, reporters are watching the CBS Evening News with Frankly Unctuous substituting for the vacationing Dan Rather. “...And in Manhattan tonight, an ironic drama is going on at one of those automatic teller machines we all love to hate,” says Frankly. “It seems that early this afternoon, the Chairman of the Federal Reserve Board – the man who is chiefly responsible for this nation’s monetary policy – was attempting to get a cash advance from his credit card when the machine apparently got stuck. Now, some four hours later, the Fed Chairman is still at the teller machine, waiting for his money. Susan Spencer is on the scene. Susan?” “Yes, Frankly, this is quite an eventful event here. Hundreds of people have come to this Chase Manhattan twenty-four-hour bank at Broadway and West 82nd Street to watch. The Fed Chairman, as you stated, is awaiting his money. Earlier, I talked with David Rockefeller, former head of the Chase Manhattan Bank...” The Post reporters continue to watch the news as they work on their stories. One reporter writes about The Cereal Killer, a fiend who bludgeons people to death while

The Fed chairman’s mother is out of the hospital, where they gave her the universal antidote to liquid Tylenol. She has seen the headlines and the TV broadcasts, and she is worried about her son. It is after 11 p.m. and Eyewitness News is on. The sportscaster is just finishing up. “...and in extra innings, it was Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere 7, Secular Humanists 5. That’s all the scores I have for tonight, Dweezil,” he says to the anchorman. “Well, speaking of scores,” the anchorman says, “scores of people were injured tonight in West Beirut...” The Chairman’s mother switches back to her VCR tape, looks at the image of her late husband, and says aloud, “Nigel, what can I do to help my son?” “Ambassador Park here,” says the voice on the telephone. “I mean, Ambassador An here,” he corrects himself. “This is the U.S. Comptroller of the

Currency in Washington,” says the other voice. The voices are talking long distance on U.S. Sprint, not AT & T, but they can hear each other just fine. “Yes, sir, what can I do with you?” “You know about this trouble with the Fed chairman in New York. We’d like you to lower your discount rate, stimulate your economy, buy more U.S. exports, and offer something besides sushi in your restaurants. Not all Americans like to eat raw fish, you know. The microorganisms in them can be dangerous for pregnant women.” “Excuse me, sir, I think you want the

He is staying till he gets his money, his Visa card, and yes, even a record of his transaction. He has faith in the banking system, even in states like Oklahoma. As he looks down at the empty crack vials at his feet, he thinks about the last meeting of the Federal Open Market Committee and how they debated whether to ease or tighten monetary policy, whether to buy or sell U.S. government securities, whether to lower or raise reserve requirements, and whether to order out for sushi or bagels from H & H. The Chairman is becoming delirious.

At 3 a.m.,

Quynchi Cao has fallen

Park Avenues. At the Citicorp Center, with its sloped top, she stops for a minute and kisses the Citicorp logo. The Citicorp logo looks a lot like the logo for NATO. The Fed Chairman, for the first time in many long hours, feels something akin to relief. It’s the float, he thinks. It’s the float.

Two weeks later,

the President of the United States announces the retirement of the Chairman of the Federal Reserve Board and his replacement by Xerox Sankabrand,

A man walking a purebred Jack Russell terrier points to a “NO RADIO” sign on a parked car’s windshield and tells his wife, “See, I told you people are getting less materialistic.” Japanese ambassador. I’m from South Korea.” “Oh, really? Sorry to have troubled you for nothing, Ambassador Park.” “An.” “And what?” “Never mind.”

It’s midnight. On the Disney channel, they’re showing a film called The Horrorville Amity, wherein monsters of all different races and nationalities live together in harmony in a town in Long Island. I love fantasy, thinks Quynchi Cao as she watches TV. Then she thinks about her nights with Xerox Sankabrand.

The Fed Chairman is still at the ATM, still waiting for his Visa cash advance. The police, reporters, the mayor, the Comptroller of the Currency, and even the President have implored him to just go home. But the Fed Chairman will not be deterred.

asleep in front of her TV, which is playing the video of “Information in Motion.” Ambassador An has fallen asleep in the Perry Ellis sweater and skirt ensemble he bought earlier at Benetton. The Comptroller of the Currency has fallen asleep in his wife’s arms. Even midtown Manhattan is mostly quiet. Suddenly the elderly mother of the Chairman of the Federal Reserve Board can be seen at her window on the forty-second floor of Trump Tower. She opens the window and her ample body rises off the floor and makes its way through the window. To people on the ground she looks like a balloon. The Fed Chairman has finally given up his quest for his $200 cash advance. Walking wearily through Central Park, he looks up at the sky, only to see his mother wafting through the night breezes. She must be hundreds of feet up. The Chairman’s mother floats over Central Park to the east, past Fifth and Madison and

former lead singer of The Vomit Seekers. (The group will now change its name to Special Drawing Rights.) At the news conference the broad-shouldered, boyish punk rocker says, “The business of America is show business,” and at homes across the nation, people like Quynchi Cao and Ambassador An and the non-cost-effective children of the Comptroller of the Currency nod their heads.

On upper Broadway, maintenance men replace a broken automatic teller machine with a newer model that has a computer-generated voice. ❉ Richard Grayson is the author of the short story collections With Hitler in New York, Lincoln's Doctor's Dog, The Silicon Valley Diet, and I Survived Caracas Traffic as well as the recent The Brooklyn Diaries.


lives in Brooklyn and teaches at The School of Visual Arts and Fordham University.




As the son of

renowned Westport photographer Larry Silver, Bruce Silverstein was raised to believe that photography was underappreciated as an art form. “Experiencing art — going to museums regularly, looking at art books, taking art courses, shooting with my father —was ingrained in me from a very early age; collecting was a means to enrich our home that later evolved into a form of financial savings.” At the age of 22, at the beginning of what would become a successful career on Wall Street, Bruce began to collect important photography aggressively. “Much of the pleasure I got throughout my time on Wall Street was converting my earnings into art. When that was not enough, I left.” Bruce would never have conceived that within a remarkably short period of time, he would become one of the foremost photography dealers in the world, with a ground floor gallery in the heart of the Chelsea art district in New York City, and be representing his father’s work. “I have fond memories of sitting on the couch listening to my father while watching him gesture with his hands, as we looked at images by W. Eugene Smith, Henri Cartier-Bresson, and Walker Evans. I was constantly learning the language of seeing art, and talking about art, with my parents. This was not just limited to photography – my parents’ interests were wide and diverse, and spanned the history of art and antiquities. Learning such a broad language from such a young age gave me a real visceral understanding for art that I believe is difficult to learn later in life. Accompanying my father on shoots throughout my childhood, as well as my own drawing and sculpting, taught me about the process of creating. So, when I began to look at collecting, it did not take me long to get my bearings and to feel comfortable with my own abilities; I had a large enough visual vocabulary, as well as an understanding of historical artistic context to select images that were both important and to which I connected. I made a decision to collect primarily original vintage photographs, which are the first prints that were made at the time the images were taken. I also stuck to major photographers, as I found it remarkable that such important masterworks could be had for relatively affordable prices. One of the lessons I learned from my father was to buy the best I could afford and that I was better off buying fewer pieces of better quality.” Ultimately, Bruce decided to leave Wall Street to open a vintage photography gallery in a townhouse on West 22nd street in Chelsea. With no prior experience, he taught himself each facet of running a gallery—from designing the space on a limited budget, matting, framing, how to hang pictures, building and designing an internet site, and writing press releases. 4 0 W E S T O N M A G A Z I N E G R O U P. C O M

“Photography was still being discovered and appreciated at that time, eight years ago, and there was a unique opportunity – even for someone who had no gallery experience. My earliest shows were focused on classic photographers, both known and unknown... My second show was called ‘Aaron Siskind Transformation.’ Aaron Siskind was the only photographer who was a member of the Abstract Expressionist Group. Siskind was influencing De Kooning and Kline and hanging in the same shows. I began to realize, after seeing what many dealers had in their inventories, that there was a certain portion of Siskind’s work that few understood. These early pieces were transitional in nature, where he was exploring abstraction but wasn’t quite there, yet it was very much an integral part of his entire body of work.” Dealers were willing to sell these photographs quite inexpensively, which enabled Silverstein to build up a critical mass of prints. They would become the basis for his exhibition ‘Aaron Siskind Transformation,’ which received a full-page review in the Times. “Getting that review after my second show reinforced my decision to leave Wall Street and open the gallery.” After five years, Bruce began to feel constrained by his space and storage limitations. “The space was 600 square feet — perfect for a jewel-like vintage exhibition, but not a place to show larger contemporary work.” He relocated the gallery to a 5000-square-foot

space on the ground floor of 535 W. 24th St. “With regards to historically important photographers, I look for bodies of work that either have not been seen, or have been overlooked or misrepresented. For example, André Kertész has always been known within the art world as one of the great photographers, yet most of that focus has been on his early work, which was done in Paris between 1925 and 1935. In fact, he moved to New York in 1936 and for the next 50 years took pictures of New York, but those pictures were fairly unknown. Except for a few key images, the majority of that work was really unappreciated and assumed to be secondary to the body of work he did in Paris. I put together a show of his New York period images. For many, this was an insightful new approach into an extremely important artist. The Kertész estate took notice, appreciated that I had added value to the understanding of his work, and joined the gallery. The Siskind Foundation would later join us as well. I enjoy taking artists that have been stereotyped, wrongly at times, and expanding the knowledge of that artist. We did the same thing for Robert Doisneau, an artist who is famous for the photograph ‘Kiss by the Hotel de Ville, 1950.’ I decided to call the estate in Paris. They said to me, ‘I’m sorry we have no more images of the ‘Kiss’.” I said, “I’m not coming to look at the ‘Kiss’.” They said, “No one has ever come


to look at anything else.” I went there and found some incredible images that showed the breadth of his work — one of the great French photographers, but very unknown in America because he had become so famous for one picture.” Since the move to 24th Street, the gallery has expanded to representing contemporary artists, including Martin Denker, Todd Hido, Yao Lu, Maria Mameli, Shinichi Maruyama, and Michael Wolf, and now shows in all major art fairs around the world, including Art Basel Miami and the New York Armory Show. “Showing contemporary work feels natural to me. I used to think that in order to understand what is new, one must first understand what has been done before. But in fact, it goes both ways, new work constantly redefines and reinvigorates works from the past. It is one system, past, present and future. Doing one without the other no longer makes sense.” Silverstein is enthusiastic about his plans for the future. “The gallery has expanded its focus to photographers who work in various mediums, but have been typecast solely as photographers. For instance, Frederick Sommer, who is known for his photographs, also produced significant abstract expressionist paintings, drawings, watercolors, collages and even musical scores. I am finding the notion of moving into other art forms irresistible. I plan on doing this for a very long time, and building and growing is only natural.” 535 West 24th Street, New York, NY. 212/627-3930; D 4 2 W E S T O N M A G A Z I N E G R O U P. C O M



WRITOPIA LAB TWO YEARS AGO, MY DAUGHTER ENROLLED IN A WRITOPIA LAB WORKSHOP BECAUSE OF HER LOVE OF WRITING. AT THIS UNIQUE ORGANIZATION, HER PASSION FOR WRITING INTENSIFIED AS HER SKILLS PROGRESSED. SHE IS HARDLY ALONE: MANY YOUNG PEOPLE HAVE FOUND A REAL HOME HERE. Visionary writer and teacher Rebecca Wallace-Segall created Writopia Lab in 2007 to address unmet needs of aspiring young writers. This young writers’ community provides a welcoming and inspiring environment for children and teens to hone their skills and deepen their love of language. Children come to Writopia because they have a passion for writing that is not addressed elsewhere. They stay because they find encouragement and confidence among like-minded children and are nurtured by exceptional teachers—all of whom are authors trained in Writopia’s student-centered method. Writopia Lab has rapidly gained national recognition. In 2007, Scholastic Art and Writing Awards named Ms. Wallace-Segall — who goes by just “Rebecca” — “outstanding educator” and officially endorsed Writopia Lab. In 2008 and 2009, Scholastic awarded her the National Gold Apple Teacher Award for submitting “the most outstanding group of submissions on the National level” to the Scholastic Art and Writing competition. This year, Writopia produced its first Annual Theater Festival. The New York Times featured it because all plays were written by Writopia’s award-winning young playwrights (ages 10-17), and were performed by professional actors. Writopia Lab offers workshops in Manhattan, Westchester, Brooklyn, Washington D.C., and Los Angeles. Peggy Teich is a business librarian and educator at CUNY’s Baruch College and a Writopia Lab board member. Peggy has taught business librarianship in the Masters of library science programs at Pratt Institute, Columbia University and Rutgers.

The Bakum BY REBECCA SHUBERT, 16 The Bakum Drafting Center, Israel. August 5th 2009, 9:15 am The air is stifling. It hurts to breathe. But that's nothing unusual in August, not on the outskirts of Tel Aviv-Yafo. The sun blazes. We sweat rivers down the sides of our faces, and lakes on our upper lips.

4 4 W E S T O N M A G A Z I N E G R O U P. C O M

BY PEGGY TEICH Eventually, we pardon and squeeze our way into a patch of shade near the wall of the drafting center. Alon is drinking a Diet Coke, a rather poignant sign of how upside-down everything is. He once claimed he can not only taste, but also smell the difference between diet and regular, and that even thinking about diet makes him sick. He is utterly unaware of everything around him. Our hands are still clasped, as they have been for the whole car ride and the past agonizing thirty minutes in this place. Our fingers are woven together like the threads of an army uniform--much like the one he will be wearing within the hour. But we are no longer young, and playful and in love. Now he is drowning in a thundering river and clinging to me, the only log in the water. That's how his grip feels. This moment is brimming with traditions and expectations. It represents centuries of political upheaval and controversy. But we are not thinking about politics, right-wing, or left. Being drafted is personal. It is the pain of growing up too suddenly. It is a sacrifice that I cannot grasp. I check my watch. 9:17. Alon drinks his Diet Coke. He brushes his free hand over the dark bristly strands on his scalp. They are perhaps a centimeter long. Twenty four hours ago, I was laughing and running my fingers through his hair. His long, messy, bewitchingly soft hair. Alon's house in Ramat HaSharon, August 4th, 10:30 am I made Shoko, I announce triumphantly, two glasses of chocolate milk slushies in my hand. It's--I catch sight of his stricken face. What!? I forgot, he says bleakly, I completely forgot. I have to cut my hair before tomorrow. Cut your hair...I repeat, uncomprehending. You know--he pushes back his bangs and mimes moving a razor over his head. For the--well, they have regulations. Everyone has to get their hair cut, at least in the beginning. Really short. Shit, I say, Seriously? He smiles without humor. Wanna come watch? I do not. I do not want to sit quietly and watch the beloved floppy mane get shorn into a prickly helmet. But I know he wants me to come. So I do it for him. A Barbershop in Ramat HaSharon, August 4th, 11:00 am With each feathery tuft that sinks to the linoleum floor, it becomes harder to keep silent, not to yell Stop, stop, stop it! I can not bring myself to look at Alon's face in the mirror. I do not want to see the face I know on top of those slumping, defeated shoulders, in front of the dome of dark stubble on his scalp. He turns to look at me when it is all finished, and his face is a mask of anguish that I want to rip away. Outside, we sit wordlessly on a the curb of a sidewalk, stalling because

Alon does not want to go home and face his parents, who will gush over him and tell him how much he looks like a soldier, how brave and how grown up he appears. I hate his hair. He hates it even more. I don't give a f–––, I tell him finally. Aloni, you know I don't give a f––– about the hair. I know. His tone is listless and he does not look at me. It's not really that. And he's right. It isn't. I begin to cry. It seems stupid, even childish to grieve over a haircut. I am fully aware that hair grows back. But this haircut can not be undone. The sad wisps littering the floor of the barbershop are gone. They are not coming back. I am reeling in the strange awfulness of this moment, but it is not a shock. It has been roughly one year that Alon and I have known each other, and roughly one year that I have known he will be drafted. My mind flies back to our first few conversations when we met on our teen tour of Israel and the United States. I asked him where he wanted to go to college (he was seventeen--if he were American, he would have had at least some general notion). No idea, really, he said unconcernedly. You haven't thought about it at all!? Well, it's going to be years before I have to apply. The army comes first. Next year. You know. I felt a flicker of panic, even then. But next year was light years away. So I pushed it out of my mind. I had even known the exact date of his drafting before coming to visit him. But something had to give, I convinced myself, something was going to happen to change everything, because the thought of Alon leaving was not awful--it was impossible. He sits beside me on the curb, and I feel his heartbeat in his fingertips. But, as his hair announces, he isn't mine anymore. He is here, but I finally understand that they have already taken him away. The Bakum Drafting Center, Israel. August 5th 2009, 9:24 am The bus carrying the previous batch of recruits pulls away from the other side of the Bakum, amid a flurry of dust and gravel and confetti and shouting and crying. With equal parts dread and anticipation, I check the flashing sign for his name in Hebrew. A realization surfaces that terrifies me: I want his name to be up there. This eternal, this excruciating waiting is more than I can bear. Let it be over. Let me start grieving. I am worn out from the suspense, and I just want it to be done. And there it is. In flashing, blinking, red letters. Big and official. Is it there? He asks. Yes, I say. Left side. Near the bottom. He looks at it, then he looks at me, then he puts his head in his hands. I am at an utter loss for anything to say. Alon's father Barak slings his son's packed bag over his own shoulder, the small, zippered navy backpack that holds only a tooth brush and underwear and the few other things they won't give him at the base. Tsufi, his mother, stands next to me. Her face is half hidden by

her sunglasses. People who don't know her well say she is cold and distant. Only the trembling of her mouth gives her away. You have to know what to look for. We make our way into the middle of the seething crowd, just feet in front of the bus. There is nothing I want to ask out loud, but hundreds of things I want to know. What are you thinking, my love? Can't you smile, just once? Can't you feel my hand holding yours? Why do you look at my face and not know who I am? He hugs his father briefly, pats his brother on the back, shakes hands with his friends. He and his mother embrace for longer, but only because she does not let him go. He holds me for nearly a minute. I rest my head against the smoothness of his freshly-shaven cheek. My hands tremblingly rise and touch his shoulders. All compulsory actions, though I memorize them as best I can. I feel like a hollow wooden doll. His kisses me once, twice. Gently. Have a safe flight back, he says. I'll miss you. I'll miss you too. I say. You'll be fine. We might as well be vague acquaintances, or business partners. Or people in the same biology class. This is not the person who constantly sings "Carry on Wayward Son" at the top of his lungs in the car, and insists that it is our song. Not the one who spent twenty minutes trying to "dip" me properly while we were dancing, like they do in the movies. Not the one who knows the exact spot behind my knee where I am ticklish. Alon is waiting for me back at his home now, I am sure. It is this miserable, silent, stubble-haired boy--no, this man--who is leaving. I will tell Alon all about this man when we are sitting in the hammock drinking Shoko in the shade. But as he boards the bus, and looks back at us for the last time, this strange man sticks his tongue out at me. Just the way Alon always does. He is there, somewhere behind the shorn hair and the vacant expression. In a matter of seconds, the bus roars away and Alon The Soldier is gone. I link arms with his parents and brother, all of whom are crying. I want to cry, I feel that I ought to cry, but the sun burns above me and the tears don't come. Because, as I realize, this moment is not the start of the grieving. That has begun long, long ago. Before the haircut, even before this trip, however valiantly I fought not to believe it. I have known for nearly a year that our blissful time together has an expiration date. This is the end of the waiting, the moment of acceptance. So what is beginning now? A part of Alon's life--and mine as well--that is entirely new. We leave the Bakum the way one leaves a cemetery. Broken hearted, and free. ❉ Rebecca Shubert, 16, has won multiple regional and national awards from the prestigious Scholastic Art & Writing Awards contest, including a 2010 regional Gold Key for this memoir. She has been writing at Writopia since it was founded in 2007. She is a rising senior at Bard High School Early College.




These people are dying, so let’s have a good time in their honor! I had walked down a runway for cleft palates. Had suited up and jived for Israel and my parents had spent two hundred thousand dollars (my tuition) for eating disorder awareness. The awareness being that the bathroom door be removed from all school buildings… Three years after leaving the upper east side, my fancy ivy league high school diploma in hand, I try recognizing how and when I fell into it and if I’ve ever really fallen out of it… Am I just in a separate league at this point? Are those hipsters in drapey black garments, merely the next link on the Darwinian chain of social hierarchy? Yes I know you like Rick Owens. No, I don’t want a bump. Yes, I know you identify with Nick Cave’s songs. The same adolescent worries haunt my twenties, in whinier and less sentimental ways. At night it’s dark-lit rooms, copper tables, cheeks sucked in and minimal conversation. A girl runs in, her face puffy, “My dad had a heart attack and is in a coma.” She tells everyone. People nod and apologize, but it’s one o’clock in the morning at the Soho Grand and a fresh bottle of vodka is icing down. She opens it first, and I wonder if maybe she should be with her family. Something tells me she’d tweet the trauma if she had enough followers. The insecurities are the same, manifested in downtrodden whispers, rather than exuberant gossip. No longer did you hear… it’s simply, they f—ked, the disease being the gossip, not the act, but even that doesn’t matter. There are drugs for that now. Look at Magic Johnson, they laugh. Where the hell am I? Since eighth grade I’ve been trying to find a balance between the dark side and innocence, but it seems they collapsed into each other too speedily. A childhood spent downtown, weekdays of crisp white polos, chapel on Wednesday, study hall Thursday, t-shirts and spin the bottle on weekends. No alcohol. No drugs. There were movie dates with girls, who had buck-teeth and pretty eyes. We laughed in Union Square, never getting on the subway to head uptown. Everything we needed was downtown, at twelve; things were changing.

4 6 W E S T O N M A G A Z I N E G R O U P. C O M

It started in seventh grade, the high school pressures. Acceptance letters in 8th grade. Riverdale. Dalton. Trinity. Uptown. Uptown. Uptown. Finally meeting the future graduating class of 2007. Raised by Washington Square, I’d only been uptown socially once, to see “Blue Crush” with a girl I went to sleep away camp with. I had to ask my parents if it was OK. They said it wasn’t, but they were out of town, so I went anyway, getting lost in the seventies and accidentally giving my cabby a twenty instead of a ten, an apt metaphor for the world I was venturing into. Always twenty. Never ten. The house was on 77th between 3rd and Lex. It wasn’t like anything I’d seen, save dinner parties and movies, but soon it was just the simple reality. These are where people live. Doormen call you “sir,” though they’re thirty years your senior and you’re wearing some dirty vintage t-shirt with torn Vans. Apartments take up whole floors, closed doors, locked, yappy dogs

House parties and alcohol gave us what we needed: empty spaces for our secrets to fill. We were naïve to think they’d stay inside those doors, inside the bottles. Slowly they made their way out and that was fine. Part of me misses them now. House parties appear in my mind, as rain drops running down a glass window. The memories slide into each other in a cool, calm, blur and I wonder where the parents were, but realize that they were in the house, in their bedroom reading the new John Grisham book. The excess of it is laughable; we didn’t know what we were doing and that’s why it was so much fun. We had learned to walk, learned to speak, the alphabet, each baby step lead closer to learning what the word “adult” meant. Misconstruing it horribly. Fumbling with the button and zipper, frantically flailing under the covers. This is adult, right?

scratching at clean white wash. Behind the door we sat, talking about which house we’d go to. Which girls we’d meet. Who was going to see which girl. I nodded. I didn’t know what anyone was talking about. Someone handed me a little bottle and asked if I wanted a sip. I was fourteen. I didn’t. I didn’t drink. Yet. But it was inevitable. It is inevitable; going to a private school in New York City it’s either drinking or drugs, or both. Maybe you’re on spring break walking around the Breakers in Palm Beach. Well dressed, ill-mannered. It’s cold outside. Windy. And maybe your friend has a tiny bottle of Absolut he was given by his ex-alcoholic mother. “Now only a little, OK?” And maybe you say, “Jeez, it’s freezing out man.” And maybe he says, “No worries bud, this’ll warm ya.” So maybe you think f—k it, and take a sip. Instantly your body tingles in a new warmed, pre-natal state. And maybe you have more. Suddenly the wind doesn’t matter as much. You listen to it whip by. It mixes with the waves crashing on the shore to orchestrate a symphony of the sloppy kisses, the tiring dancing and the resounding emptiness that will inevitably follow that night. Maybe. “I don’t do drugs, I just take adderrall, sleeping pills and anti-depressants.”

Taking shots of tequila, one after the other. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Thirty minutes later the wave hits. This is adult, right? Read Plato, Kant and Bacon. Come in with a thirteen-page essay on what each means. Understand it. Be an adult. Am I any better off, trudging from club to club in the downtown nightlife circuit? Is that adult? People say kids in the city grow up faster, and in a way it’s true. We have everything that college life is supposed to introduce us to, in high school. Everyone is trying to prove something, so we delve in and explore. I’m not saying it’s wrong or right, I’m not saying I hate it, or that I’m ungrateful for it, or anyone messed up. That I’d like to do it all over again differently. What I’m saying is: it’s left me confused. I feel like my uptown/downtown generation is waiting for this pat on the shoulder. A tired whisper between the cabs and the buses. A soothing voice singing, “It’s alright. You’re doing fine. It’s all alright.” ❉ Noah Wunsch was born and raised in Manhattan. He went to grade school downtown, and high school uptown. He’s currently a writing major at Eugene Lang and Editor at Large of Jacques Magazine.



acob’s Cure, a non-profit foundation created to find a cure for Canavan, a fatal genetic brain disease, hosted the DREAM BIG gala on May 20, 2010, at Pier Sixty, Chelsea Piers, in New York City. Over 800 attendees from the Tri-State region attended the event, honoring long-time board members, Farrel and Steven Starker, CEO of BTIG LLC. The BIG DREAM gala raised nearly $1.5M to find a lifesaving treatment for Canavan children around the world. Jacob’s Cure was founded by Rye resident, Jordana Holovach, to save her son, Jacob, who was diagnosed with Canavan Disease at six months


old. Children with Canavan become trapped in their bodies, develop seizures, lose their ability to see and swallow, and die in the first decade of life. The research funded by Jacob’s Cure has slowed or halted the progression of the disease in most of the children who received gene-therapy and have begun the recommended pharmacological regimen. While there is currently no cure for Canavan Disease, Jacob’s Cure is funding a stem cell trial that aims to further treat and ultimately cure Canavan dis-

ease. This stem cell research may very well revolutionize the manner in which “white matter” neurological diseases, such as Parkinson’s, MS and ALS, are treated and will be a model for their cure. The event was hosted by Donny Deutsch, TV personality and Chairman of Deutsch Inc. and guests such as Eli Manning, and Jaslene Gonzalez. The Starker family of Westchester joined the Jacob’s Cure board in September 2000 when Jordana Holovach launched the foundation. Since then they have raised more than two million dollars for the fight against Canavan disease. “Farrel and Steven have worked tirelessly to support Jacob’s Cure over the last ten years,” said Holovach. “With federal funding for research in Canavan disease limited, particularly as a result of the economic crisis, it is the work of individuals like the Starkers that makes the difference

between funding this lifesaving research and not.” With a nod to Wall Street, Jacob’s Cure attributes its advancement in research to the generosity Steven has rallied from his colleagues all year, but particularly during BTIG’s Commissions for Charity Day where Jacob’s Cure is amongst many children’s charities that receive sizeable donations. Funds raised from the gala will support a phase 1 clinical stem cell trial for twenty Canavan children. This cutting edge research is the result of a partnership Jacob’s Cure initiated with Geron Corporation, who is providing the stem cells. While not the norm for a biotech company to have an interest in a rare disease, Geron jumped on the opportunity to work with the Canavan researchers led by Dr. Paola Leone (UMDNJ) because they are established leaders in the field of clinical research and Canavan has proven to be an excellent model for bigger white matter diseases such as Parkinson’s and MS. “We are proud to collaborate with Dr. Paola Leone and the Canavan research team on developing a stem cell based treatment for Canavan disease, and we are especially grateful for Jacob’s Cure’s support of the research” explains Ed Wirth, M.D., Ph.D. Medical Director of Regenerative Medicine for Geron Corporation. ❉

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The Beauty of Love

A Memoir of Miracles, Hope, and Healing > By


Jorge Posada and Laura Posada

and Laura Posada need very little introduction. He’s a five-time World Champion and the catcher for the celebrated New York Yankees. She’s a successful lawyer and philanthropist. What is not well known, is that the Posadas are parents who suffered for many years in silence when their firstborn son, Jorge Luis, was diagnosed with craniosynostosis, a life threatening condition in which the bones of the skull fuse together prematurely, causing a growth disturbance. Before the age of ten, Jorge Luis would require eight major surgeries to correct his skull. Early on, Jorge and Laura kept their son's sickness a private, family matter to protect him from a media frenzy, but in time they realized they could use their celebrity status to help others. They launched the Jorge Posada foundation to increase awareness about craniosynostosis and to offer both emotional and financial support to families afflicted with the disease.

A New Reality Is Born: Jorge The universe has a funny way of creating vicissitudes. One minute you are the picture of accomplishment and glamour, riding around with your spirits up and your hopes high, fancying yourself one of the lucky ones, determined to entertain a jubilant life, sure of yourself, of your behavior and your decisions. But in less than a split second, before you can even turn around to give a wave of gratitude to your loved ones and adoring fans, the universe reminds you, in her ever-mysterious way, of your fundamental, unarguable mortality. As for us, we certainly did not realize on that crisp autumn day during the celebratory parade down Fifth Avenue in Manhattan, as we were cheered on by millions of zealous Yankees fans and proud New Yorkers, ticker tape raining on us like a magical snowfall, that this reign of glory of ours was on the brink of a dark and stormy chaos. On November 28, 1999, our first child, Jorge L. Posada, Jr. , was born in San Juan, Puerto Rico, where we returned after the Yankees won the World Series against the Atlanta Braves, excited to have the 5 6 W E S T O N M A G A Z I N E G R O U P. C O M

birth in our own hometown, together with our family and friends, who were all waiting with joy and anticipation. Much like expectant parents everywhere, we were eager to meet our son and to begin the exciting journey of parenthood, which we had always seen as the grand and beautiful culmination of our love as a couple. We were ready for that world of interminable cuteness that we always imagined would come with the birth of a baby, everything cast in pastels and softness. We were ready for adorable fuzzy presents and joyful relatives, and smiles and hugs and laughter all around. We were even ready for that crazy-sounding baby language that adults use to communicate with infants. We wanted it all, knowing that we were at a point in our lives where we would be able to provide for a family adequately and fuel that family with all kinds of love. By the end of the month, after all of the excitement and commotion, Laura was ready to pop. She felt haggard, swollen, and tired but was nevertheless ecstatic at the prospect of our new baby. Finally, on the twentyeighth day of the month, when the temperature in the air was just slightly starting to change, we were at home resting, when all of a sudden Laura shot up, ran to the toilet, and screamed when no urine came out. Instead, a flood of water came gushing out of her like a fountain. She howled like a madwoman, which of course got my attention, and within seconds I was with her in the bathroom, trying to calm her down. Despite being completely and utterly hysterical, the woman wanted to take a shower. Can you imagine? She was crashed out on the floor, amniotic fluid flowing out of her like the Rio Grande, screaming at the top of her lungs, and she still wanted to take her shower! Somehow or other she managed to do so, and in the interim I got our things packed and ready, called the hospital to make arrangements, and of course notified both of our parents. It was clearly showtime, and although things were starting to feel hectic, I was beyond excited. We arrived at the hospital, and our ob/gyn was already in the maternity ward waiting for us. There was a frenetic, almost antsy energy crackling in the air as we checked in, but no different from what I pre-

viously had imagined all births and deliveries would somehow always elicit—pure adrenaline and serious hustle. Doctors and nurses shuffled past us briskly as we filled out all varieties of paperwork, while I tried to keep myself calm. As they wheeled Laura toward the delivery room, I like to believe, we were both feeling that we were about to take on adulthood in its most glorious form. Things started to get complicated during the delivery, when the anesthesiologist began to have trouble getting the epidural placed properly. He tried a few times and just couldn’t seem to get it right. The massive needle seemed to pierce Laura’s lower back like a glass knife. She could see, through her watery eyes and lots of obvious physical pain, that I was starting to get nervous too. She became a bit edgy herself when she noticed that her back seemed to be completely drenched, realizing that the epidural fluid was leaking all over her. Everything started to happen really fast at that point, a blurry series of abrupt clinical snapshots that I can barely decipher, but each one tinged with everyone’s collective anxiety. Everything turned an even darker shade when the doctor announced that the baby’s heart rate was slowing because the umbilical cord was wrapped around his little neck. I, now on the brink of fainting, pale as a ghost, and in a state of helpless shock, was clearly starting to lose it, to the point that Laura had to ask me to step out of the room and get a Coca-Cola. I couldn’t stand to watch her suffer (and she couldn’t stand to watch me watch her suffer), with that needle continuing to go in and out of her back, to no avail. The poor anesthesiologist was thrown out of the room as well, which is when the obstetrician said, “Forget about the epidural, this baby needs to come out right now. ” The baby was in distress, and so were we. By the time I was able to collect myself and come back into the room, they were already giving Laura an episiotomy, cutting her open from rectum to vagina with a local anesthetic, and with the help of forceps beginning to deliver our newborn son, Jorge Luis, who by now was totally bright purple. Poor Laura, who never once complained, was fully aware of everything that was happening, conscious of everyone in the room, and trying with all her might to control the situation from her position on the delivery bed. Her main concern, if you could imagine, was to take care of me. After Jorge Luis was finally out, they abruptly took him off somewhere to run all the basic health tests. Since the doctor had had to cut Laura to help the delivery, he still had the task of stitching her up. But the major storm seemed to be over. Later, when I saw Laura with the baby, a firstborn son who would carry my name, I felt utterly complete and perfectly whole. The adventure of a son-father relationship could mean so many things to me, and I really allowed myself to fantasize about how much fun it would all be. Everything seemed to be in sync, the scenes of my life playing out exactly as I had always dreamed they would. It was without a doubt one of the happiest days of my life.

The Bittersweet Truth: Laura We waited about an hour or so, until finally a nurse came in holding the miniscule bundle of our son, who was warm, clean, and wrapped like a fresh little dumpling. My eyes fluttered open from the twilight nap that I’d gotten lost in, and there beside me was my husband, looking slightly nervous but smiling proudly, holding our first baby. We looked at him, both of us in tears, injected with the rawness of true, unconditional love. In the moments between shock, pain, deep sleep, and fuzzy wakefulness during my pregnancy, I had talked, dreamed, and fantasized about this first encounter with our son. Now, seeing him in Jorge’s arms, I was beside myself with emotion. “What a vision, ” I thought blurrily through my fog of meds and exhaustion. Jorge passed the baby to me, and a wild blend of emotions overtook my being. As hard as it is to admit—and I think I can only do so in hindsight—when I looked down at him on the day of his birth, despite the surge of love that I felt for him, I also instinctively knew that something was not quite right. The right front side of the baby’s forehead looked slightly flat and even a bit caved in, and on the other side there was clearly a bump. I could not have imagined using these words then, but he looked visibly deformed. Jorge and I both saw and knew it right away. With just one look into each other’s eyes, we said everything without speaking one word. We both knew there was something wrong, but neither of us wanted to be the one to say it first. You have to remember that at this point we were both young, inexperienced, first-time parents, with no real point of reference as to “how things were supposed to be, ” so we just stayed sort of quiet under the unspoken assumption that the baby’s head and face would gradually take proper shape. Of course we questioned the doctors and tried to get some clarity during those first few days, but everyone seemed to think we should just wait and see. There was no sense of desperation, no urgency, and no mad rush of physicians anxious about the way our child had been born. The doctors simply told us that the use of forceps might have been the cause of the deformations but that we shouldn’t worry—which of course is exactly what we wanted to hear. Needless to say, we were hungry for some semblance of relief after the crazy whirlwind of the delivery, and hearing the doctors’ casual response to what we thought might be a problem was almost music to our ears; indeed, we wanted to believe that everything was under control, that forceps often cause slight deformations, and that all we had to do was sit tight and all would fall into place. But none of that happened, and two days later we were discharged from the hospital, sent home with our baby and a subtle but looming sense of dread. Looking back now, it was a pure and total denial of the facts. When we got home, I was still recovering from the debacle of the epidural, barely able to stand, dizzy from morning to night, and aching from the whole ordeal. I was having chronic postpartum headaches and

el cielo con la mano,” we say in Spanish. This metaphorically describes the act of trying to “cover the sky with your hand, ” which speaks to the notion of denial and the sense that reality is always right there, regardless of our conscious or unconscious attempts to hide it. But reality was getting closer and closer by the moment, and in time no amount of denial would be able to stifle what we were now up against. The other thing was that the baby never stopped crying. He would cry from the moment he was awake to the moment he fell asleep, a screechy wail that pulsated through the whole house all day and all night. It was almost as if he himself knew that something JORGE LUIS IS BORN IN PUERTO RICO IN 1999 was not right. We certainly did not know how to handle the crying and his evident discomfort and irritability, and that, combined with my painful recovery from the delivery, made those first few weeks seem impossible. There was no way of knowing if the baby was in pain or not, and if he was, we had no idea how to treat it. It definitely felt as though a crisis was brewing, but because of the newness of it all, neither of us knew exactly what we were dealing with. Each day seemed interminably long, the only constant being the perpetual shrieks of this poor child, who was clearly not well. And then a few days later, we started to notice something else. One day in December, I was holding the baby, during one of those very rare moments when he was quiet and calm, when I realized that not only was his head deformed, but it was also starting to look like one of his eyes was higher than the other one; worse still, his nose and mouth were both sort of off to the side as well. At first

felt nauseous most of the time. I tried to breast-feed, but Jorge Luis could never seem to latch on properly, and each attempt left me (and probably him, as well) even more frustrated and exhausted. The worst part about it was that all throughout my own debilitating physical misery, I could plainly see that Jorge Luis’s little head was still very much deformed. I would go to bed at night, close my eyes, and silently pray that he would look normal the next morning when I’d go in to check on him. And the following morning I would wake up, take a deep breath,

We certainly did not realize on that crisp autumn day during the celebratory parade down Fifth Avenue in Manhattan… ticker tape raining on us like a magical snowfall, that this reign of glory of ours was on the brink of a dark and stormy chaos.


and drag myself over to his bassinet, only to see that nothing had changed. I felt as if I were locked inside some awful dream, the kind where you know you are dreaming and trying desperately to cry for help but no one seems to hear you no matter how hard you scream. We didn’t want to panic, but we knew we would have to address the issue at some point. I guess we wanted to remain hopeful and not get all riled up, and we decided to believe that whatever it was, we would somehow be able to handle it. But by the tenth day, the baby still did not look quite right. If my parents noticed anything unusual about his appearance, they did not say it to me and instead always displayed a silent optimism. They carried on as if everything were normal, and I suppose I was unconsciously waiting for someone to speak up and agree with me that something was not right. But no one had the heart to say it. “Tapando 5 8 W E S T O N M A G A Z I N E G R O U P. C O M

I thought that I was maybe hallucinating from lack of sleep, but the more I looked at him, the more I knew just how real it all was. I kept thinking that if it were indeed the use of forceps that had caused all of this, why was my baby’s face shifting and morphing from one day to the next? I used my own physical sickness as an excuse to keep friends and relatives, except for our parents, from visiting our house, frankly because I didn’t want anyone to see him. I didn’t want interrogations, I didn’t want shame, and I definitely didn’t want pity. Somehow I knew that a serious frenzy was coming, but I certainly did not want to be the one to start it. ❉ From THE BEAUTY OF LOVE by Jorge Posada and Laura Posada. Copyright © 2010 by Jorge Posada and Laura Posada. Reprinted by permission of Atria Books, a Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

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TEA' PARTY! by John Francis Hoctor


of the 1970s New England J. Geils Band knew how to bring the house down when they performed-make a deafening racket, appeal to primal urges, and invite anyone willing to pay the price of admission to join in. The method of the nascent Connecticut “tea party” faction for rallying potential supporters is not dissimilar. Tea party members fired up the crowd at a recent New England gathering in Westport by declaring that both national parties have sold out “freedom,” “liberty,” “states rights,” and the “rugged individualism” trifecta of “individual opinion,” “individual autonomy,” and “individual choice.” And with remnants of the real American Patriot movement everywhere, however subliminal, here on Connecticut's opulent I-95 gold coast-from license plate sloganeering that alludes to the nation's founding “Constitution State,” “Live Free or Die,” or the “Spirit of America” to the stout Minuteman standing sentry at Westport's Compo Beach-tea party leaders encouraged like-minded, fed-up audience members to support the campaign coffers of the increasing number of tea party candidates popping up on ballots around area. A difference is that while J. Geils wailed, “It ain't nothin' but a party,” the New England tea partiers' emphasize that their tea party ain't nothin' but a tea party movement-and movement factions have tax exempt status as a nonprofit organization-even while these tea partiers seek to bring the U.S. House-and Senate-down by neutralizing their power with the rhetoric of candidates consistently vowing to gut waste from “the government”-or standby and watch it writhe and eventually self destruct.

This author's research indicates that the tea party is no more a "movement" than Coca-Cola is a movement or Nike sneakers are a movement. It is evident that the tea party has elements of a corporatefinanced public relations campaign bent on stopping the government from implementing laws that could hurt certain business interests. Its strategy appears to include convincing conservative voters that they are part of some larger patriotic uprising against tyranny (and yes, it helps that the “tyrant” they have inveighed against is black). Tea party members (and non-tea party members) need to know who is funding the movement, and what their agenda is. Reports indicate that the tea party benefits from an influx of millions of dollars from conservative foundations established by wealthy U.S. families to promote their business interests. It appears that a steady cash flow is used to organize and implement the movement and that it primarily flows through two conservative groups: Americans for Prosperity and FreedomWorks. In an April 9, 2009, article posted on the website, Lee Fang reports that principal organizers of tea party events are Americans for Prosperity and FreedomWorks, which he terms two “well funded” “lobbyist run think tanks” that provide the logistics and organizing for the tea party movement from coast to coast. Media Matters reported that David Koch of Koch Industries was a co-founder of Citizens for a Sound Economy, the predecessor of FreedomWorks, where he currently serves as chairman of the board of directors. Citizens for a Sound Economy received substantial funding from Koch Industries, which is the largest privately held energy company in the United States, and from the conservative

Koch Family Foundations, which make substantial annual donations to conservative think tanks and advocacy groups. Media Matters reported that the Koch family has given more than $12 million to Citizens or a Sound Economy between 1985 and 2002. FreedomWorks leader and former House majority Leader sporting an ever present cowboy hat, Dick Armey, claims his organization gets “15 to 20 percent” of its money from corporations. Perhaps not 100% accurate. Look at what one Tea Party leader, Mark Skoda, announced at the tea party convention in Nashville (the event at which Sarah Palin wrote the word “Energy” on her hand to remember, well, the word “Energy”). Skoda announced the creation of a tea party political action committee and the creation of a tax-exempt 501(c)(4) nonprofit called the Ensuring Liberty Corp. PACs have contribution limits and are required by federal election law to fully disclose their funding, but a 501(c)(4) organization, on the other hand, has no contribution limits. It can raise as much money as possible from corporations, wealthy donors, foreign governments-and there are no disclosure requirements whatsoever. Therefore, the Ensuring Liberty Corp. can raise as much money as it can manage from Saudi Arabia, Aetna, and Richard Mellon Scaife (see him for links to Clinton-era investigations and the impeachment efforts) without any fear of backlash when working-class tea partiers find out it's not funded by mom and pop small business owners who just want low tax rates or more guns or less abortion or whatever it is that drives people to flock to these golden calves of American politics.

Schiff Receives Tea Party Endorsement Weston Republican, über-libertarian, and former Connecticut Republican U.S. Senate challenger Peter Schiff (see Weston Magazine Group March 2010 issue) won the backing of the Connecticut Grassroots Alliance, a loose network of 28 conservative and tea party affiliated groups. “No candidate in America better understands the fiscal mess we are in than Peter Schiff,” Vivian Rockwell, cofounder of Distressed Patriots for America, said. “The Washington establishment pretends we can borrow our way out of debt. Peter Schiff knows we must face facts and cut spending. He has the courage and the financial expertise to tackle our economic woes.” “The financial crisis does not result from a lack of regulation, but an excess of regulation," Schiff's website states. “We need to stop distorting price signals, stop distorting resource allocations. We need to allow these decisions to be made collectively through the marketplace, not by government bureaucrats centrally planning our economy based on what they think should happen, because they're almost always wrong. That path has been tried time and time again, and it has never succeeded. Obama will not succeed where Castro failed. It's just not going to happen.”

Tea Party for Two Years The question at the end of the second year of the creation of the raucous “new tea party” in Connecticut is– Who are these 21st century libertarian “Athenians” who so vociferously and many times angrily defend their Holy Grail-the U.S. Constitution? More than their political ideas, it is the professed anger of the tea party members that is already reshaping our 6 8 W E S T O N M A G A Z I N E G R O U P. C O M

political landscape. However, the hodge-podge lists of animosities tea party supporters mention fail to cohere. The tea party's own candidate for the U.S. Senate, Lindsay Graham (Rep. South Carolina), also a McCain stalwart, recently predicted the eventual demise of the movement into a body of conventional political grievances. The current popular appeal of well organized and well funded tea party activists is the perception that they are political anti-heroes-they seek, at least publicly, to destroy, rather than amass, political power. A New York Times editorialist recently characterized the movement as a

Hartford, CT Tea Party Platform We invite you to read the Declaration of Tea Party Independence below, which the Hartford Tea Party Patriots has signed and wholeheartedly supports. Recent events have dictated that we NOT allow ourselves to be defined by Democrats, Republicans, the media, and other self-serving individuals and groups. This document was created by a group of tea party patriots who like you are saying: Enough Is Enough! This Declaration of Tea Party Independence represents our creed and our charter moving forward. We the People of the tea party movement define ourselves and our purposes. We the People of the tea party movement declare our independence from the “status-quo” in our political process. We the People of the tea party movement have names and faces; to see a tea party “leader,” just look in the mirror. We the People of the tea party movement are going to take our country back to the vision and values of our Founding Fathers.

“libertarian mob” because they proclaim the belief “that they can do everything themselves if they are only left alone.” However, the reality is that the tea party activists seemed contentedly inert while Mr. Bush increased the size of the federal government by 22% per year for eight years, with bloated budgets all in the red largely for “national security” increases in what Washington recently called a nightmare of overlapping bureaucracy with no real accountability.

Hudson Valley, New York, Patriots Weigh in During a summer 2010 meet-and-greet gala in Westchester, New York, hosted by North Salem soccer mom of five and activist/Internet pamphleteer Lisa Douglas, leader of the Hudson Valley Patriots, two tea party candidates served up reactive political rhetoric. But it was nowhere near as polemical or overtly seditious as summer 2009's “Obama as Hitler” Capitol Hill tirades, although a yellow, 13-colonysegmented snake “Gadsden flag” was on display. The pair of candi-

A group of western Connecticut activists has registered the name “CT Tea Party” with the Connecticut Secretary of State's office. The group's proclaimed goal is “To ensure that the Democratic and Republican caucuses are prepared to put forth candidates that are ready to go to work for the people, and not continue the status quo that's caused the problems both locally and at the state and federal levels,” said former Marine Dan Gaita of Bethel, the party's chairman. “A good candidate for the CT Tea Party isn't somebody who has money, isn't somebody who has political power and isn't somebody that will be corrupted by the major party trade winds,” Gaita said. “We're looking for outsiders, for people who are living in the trenches, who are going through everyday struggles.” “We are literally one of the families in the trenches that the people in Hartford are disconnected from,” he said. “[The Democrats] got their health care, they've got their union protection. They've squandered the public trust and they need to be fired. We need new leaders to fix the mess we're in and that's the mission of the CT Tea Party.”

challenger who spent the summer vying for the tea party endorsement but fell short in the August 10th primary, told the Courant that the movement's ideas naturally mesh with those of most Republicans challenging Connecticut's Democratic incumbents. “There is no extremism here at all,” Novak said. “These are just our neighbors who believe in God and country, and if it's radical to believe in God and country, then so be it.” Republican Party Chairman Chris Healey said that it's not clear how much the tea party movement has affected the GOP's congressional campaigns, where there were primaries in four of the five districts. “They are an organic group, they are not a Republican group,” Healey distinguished in the Courant. “But it is emblematic of what's going on in the state, which is a frustration with government that has energized the political debate, and is something we obviously hope to capitalize on.” Rob Merkle of Norwalk considered himself a tea party activist. He petitioned his way onto the Republican ballot in the 4th District using members of the group to gather the required signatures. He believes those who can tap into the tea party base have a good chance of winning; however, he only got 24% of the vote, bringing in only Wilton. “There are 3,000 to 5,000 tea party members in the 4th District alone,” he pointed out. “These are passionate volunteers that are willing to be organized and go out there and do the heavy lifting and the retail politics that need to get done to beat the Democrats, and the Republican Party doesn't have that.” But Rick Torres, another of the three candidates seeking the GOP nomination in that district, isn't so sure. He has spoken at several tea party events, and says he strongly supports their opposition to big government and calls for fiscal responsibility, but received only 15% of GOP primary votes. He told the Courant he believes some in the movement take it too far, by labeling their opposition as socialists or worse. “Whether it's about Nancy Pelosi or Harry Reid, whom I disagree with completely, I can't listen to attacks of that sort, I just can't do it,” he said. “Those few in the movement who speak like that kind of take it over the top and drag the whole thing down.” Dan Debicella, the 'non-tea party' safe candidate won 15 out of 17 towns in the 4th district- losing only Bridgeport to Torres- and earned a slot to take on Jim Himes in November. Tanya Bachand, leader of the Connecticut Tea Party Patriots, who endorsed state senator Sam Caligiuri's candidacy for Congress in Connecticut's Fifth District, is the only formerly tea party endorsed candidate to score a clear victory in the primaries. Caligiuri, a twoterm state senator, defeated political newcomers Justin Bernier, of Plainville, and Mark Greenberg, of Litchfield, in the primary. He faces U.S. Rep. Chris Murphy, a two-term Democratic incumbent from Cheshire, on Nov. 2.

Connecticut Political Quandary

Race and the Tea Party

Though not affiliated with either major political party, tea party activists espouse a political philosophy of less government, a free market, lower taxes, individual rights, and political activism, according to a recent article in the Hartford Courant. Daria Novak, from Connecticut's second district, a Republican

The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People has prepared a resolution decrying tea party “racism.” Free Republic tea party members countered by calling the NAACP itself the “klan with a tan” and claiming that it's a case of the “pot calling the kettle white.” Other conservatives are outraged over the pending NAACP resolution

dates were surprisingly mainstream Republican, first up, and direct. Independent businessman Jay Spencer, sporting a power blue suit and solid red tie, delivered heavy doses of “taxed enough already” rhetoric but in the calm drone of a CPA, and portly but eloquent, fiery former career CIA officer Gary Berntsen campaigned hard on a message of fiscal responsibility and refocused national and homeland security. Both were tagging top gun senior U.S. Senator Chuck Schumer as the prince of “arrogance” as they vie for the Republican nomination in New York state. Their shared rallying cry was simple bumper sticker fare: “Scrap Schumer,” who at last count is ready to unload a record $23 million war chest. Current frontrunner Berntsen received a solid 62% of the vote at the Republican pre-nominating convention this June and preaches the tea party point, “Schumer is not one of us!” Berntsen continued working over Schumer by recounting a well documented story from mid-December 2009 between his standard “tax cut/deficit” pontificating to the passionate choir totaling approximately 30 at the Mount Kisco Holiday Inn: “Chuck Schumer forgot to check his dirty mouth for a DC to NYC bound flight. Schumer blasted a female flight attendant as a 'bitch' after she insisted that he shut off his cell phone so the plane could take off.” The verbose, third-in-command Democrat Schumer, apologized for the mumbled-under-his-breath gaffe, but Berntsen, who commanded the CIA's counter-Hamas group during the Bush years and a task force of 30 direct reports, called Schumer an out-of-touch elitist to this crowd of tea party faithful.

Patriot Parties Display Foothold in Connecticut

“condemning racism within the tea party movement.” The Kansas City Star noted recently that the resolution, scheduled for a vote by delegates attending the late summer annual NAACP convention in Kansas City, calls upon “all people of good will to repudiate the racism of the Tea Parties, and to stand in opposition to its drive to push our country back to the pre-civil rights era.” Complaining that the “NAACP has more of a political agenda now,” Brendan Steinhauser, director of campaigns for FreedomWorks, who, according to Star reporter Judy L. Thomas, “organizes tea party groups,” said, “I just don't see racism in the tea party movement. Racism is something we're absolutely opposed to.” Gary Langer, director of polling at ABC News, apparently agrees with Steinhauser, “While our data doesn't speak to views at the individual level, in the broadest, population-based sense, we don't see it.” But certainly suspicions of racism at its depths are there. At political

turing drawings of a “Tea Party Jesus” mouthing the hate mongering of the most extremist elements of this extreme movement, tea partiers remain a curious enigma to most Americans. Media frequently portray the tea party movement as a novel and contemptible political phenomenon. Michael Kinsley of the Atlantic Monthly asserts that tea partiers “sprang from nowhere,” and unlike the “selfless and idealistic” 1960s hippies, they are “nasty” and ultimately “self-interested.” Mark Lilla, a Columbia University political philosopher, wrote a more thoughtful assessment in the New York Review of Books, but nonetheless reached a similar conclusion. The tea partier is a “new type” of American, an “anti-political Jacobin” who exhibits “blanket distrust of institutions and an astonishing-and unwarranted-confidence in the self.” Weird, radically anti-government, new, and selfish is not a pretty picture. But is it accurate? The evidence shows that the tea party movement is not a bunch of

The current popular appeal of well organized and well funded tea party activists is the perception that they are political antiheroes-they seek, at least publicly, to destroy, rather than amass, political power. blog Think Progress, Nina Bhattacharya wrote that the tea parties have a “well documented history of racism and wrongful co-opting of the civil rights movement.” In 2009, tea party members analogized President Obama to a “monkey.” And in March, tea party protesters hurled racist epithets at civil rights hero Rep. John Lewis (D-GA) and spat at Rep. Emanuel Cleaver (D-MO). At a recent July 4th rally in Lexington, Kentucky, the blog Daily Kos documented tea party members selling shirts boasting, “Yup, I'm a Racist!”

Raging Against High Taxes The tea party continually claims that there is a “high” corporate tax rate in the United States, but of the 40 industrialized countries, the lowest corporate taxes are collected in this country, and two-thirds of the corporations operating in the United States pay zero taxes. Corporations' share of federal tax collections have gone from 45% in the 1950s to down around 6% in 2010. Many corporations also gain windfalls from various levels of government for “creating” jobs, or get money for things like oil “depletion” (tax breaks for having used up resources). In some cases, that makes corporations negative tax payers.

weirdos with uniformly far-out views. According to an April New York Times/CBS poll, most tea partiers identify themselves as married, middle-, or working-class churchgoers. The vast majority have full-time jobs or are retired. It is true that nearly all tea partiers say they want a smaller federal government. Yet, a majority of those polled also believe Social Security and Medicare are worthwhile programs. Apparently, they truly believe they can have their tea cakes and eat them too. This overwhelming moral streak at the grassroots level is the key to understanding tea party politics. It is often a matter of unwavering values, not ideology, or public policy. And with this focus, well meaning folks such as those with whom I spent time in Connecticut and New York, including Lisa Douglas, who donated time, talent, and treasure to the tea party at the expense of her own five children, become vulnerable and attractive to well-funded, high-level political machines that may seek to exploit, rather than promote, their supporters' morality. ❉ John Hoctor is a veteran political/feature writer and former staff writer with Gannett Newspaper Group, Westchester/Connecticut Business Journal, Army Times, Washington, D.C., and the Stamford, CT Advocate. He is a graduate of the University of Iowa, Journalism School and attended the famed Writer's Workshop.

Tea Party Morality? For all the media portrayals of colorful characters ranging from Revolutionary-garbed grown-ups, gun toting Second Amendment advocates, and birthers claiming that President Barack Obama is an alien-born puppet of international socialist forces to a satirical blog fea7 0 W E S T O N M A G A Z I N E G R O U P. C O M

He now lives in Westport where he performs private high-end personal training and has taken on a book project for later this year. In preparing this issue's story he attended several 'tea party' events in the New York area and interviewed local tea party Senate candidate and business mogul Peter Schiff.

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RANCHO MIRAGE BY JOANNA GLEASON DECEMBER 15 If a violent man has two dogs, Danny was thinking as he started up the bamboo-lined driveway, one might assume that it’s better to be the second dog. “And what are you looking at?” might have less fury behind it than, “Sonofabitch!” At least that’s what Daniel Fahey, soon-to-be second dog, assumed. First dog, Evan Barrows-Burke’s personal assistant Palmer Johns, had a dowager’s hump already forming on his thirty-year-old back, a result of his shoulders anticipating verbal and, witnessed on occasion, physical blows. Danny thought Palmer might have every reason to commiserate and bond with a new hiree, but Palmer was a hunchbacked asshole. When Danny had come to interview for the position of personal chef to Evan Barrows-Burke he had been greeted at the massive teak door by a housekeeper in black uniform. She had led him through an atrium filled with banana palms and Bidermeier. Danny recognized the furniture style from the coffee table books of his current employer. Those books and stacks of heavy glossy magazines had been his library, his decor-as-a-second-language class at the behest of Palm Springs society maven Juditha Leland, for whom he had made low-calorie cognitionenhancing mood-altering meals. When he had remarked to Juditha that he one day hoped to own a piece of that nineteenth-century furniture, he knew full well it was entry-level brown nosing but with, Danny thought, an elitist twist. Juditha had rebuked him, telling him that Bidermeier was strictly middle class. He was momentarily stung but kept thinking that she would pay for that remark. He could make her pay. His scorecard never showed a tie or a rain delay, much less a loss. One strike, and you were out. Now, walking the terrazzo floors of the E. Stewart Williams designed house he smirked at the Bidermeier commode that Barrows-Burke had sawn in half and filled with ferns. “Bidermeier,” Danny sniffed, fast study that he was. “We just have Pellegrino,” the maid replied. She motioned, as she left for parts unknown, to a horsehair bench in a small study and Danny sat. He noticed a wall of small cubbies, each lit from within. He rose to get a closer look. Inside each was a miniature replica of a household item sitting on velvet and caught in a halogen beam. Danny was transfixed. Gadget Guru Evan Barrows-Burke had recently moved to Palm 7 8 W E S T O N M A G A Z I N E G R O U P. C O M

Springs from Aspen, Colorado where he and his poetess wife had presided over a twenty thousand-square-foot chalet. Burke had emerged as a star just as television was making celebrities out of bellowing salesmen with bleached teeth. There were no shortage of people who sat around watching hours of infomercial television, buying items to help save the time and effort they just couldn’t muster for the simple things. Burke used his booming voice and three heads of hair to rouse the folks to reach for their telephones and credit cards. He had one idea after another, and the breathless childish qualities of enthusiasm for fantasy and American science fiction. He was MegaBuck Rogers. He wasted no time getting manufacturers in Ningbo, south of Shanghai to pop out prototypes, which he tested once or twice before a panel of experts. These experts included his mechanic, his osteopath, his tennis pro, and the maid. He then took his fistful of thumbs ups and starting churning out product. He hit the late night airwaves in a tight tee shirt and khakis, a spray enhanced tan, and what looked like a Superbowl ring on his right hand, if the Superbowl had been sponsored by DeBeers. Aspen house and land were paid for in cash from the sale of the NoMore-Tears Onion Slicer. There were ski lifts to their sauna deck, a staff of twenty, five horses, three swimming pools and a meditation hut. Life was grand until it wasn’t. The Barrows-Burkes were forced by way of a dozen out of court settlements to “downsize” as they called their punitive payments when the latest of Evan’s inventions, the Self-Making Bed, had led to numerous lawsuits. There had been, the court decided, no copyright infringements, just the evidence that eleven people, eight of them undocumented domestics, had not fully understood the English-only instructions and had ended up pinned under the box springs. The No-More-Tears Onion Slicer with its blade shield and mini exhaust fan was an annuity and was almost bested by the earnings from the Inflatable Home Car Wash Canopy, so the losses from the bed maker were somewhat covered. They pulled up tents and headed for the Palm Springs desert. Juditha Leland had brought Danny Fahey down to Palm Springs from Los Angeles where four years prior he had transplanted himself from Maine where he had held and lost all the jobs available within ten square miles. Every boss was “an idiot” he told his parents, who by now knew enough to remain mum. He realized he was only remotely happy when he THE CHAPTER “RANCHO MIRAGE” IS PRINTED WITH THE AUTHOR’S PERMISSION FROM HER FORTHCOMING NOVEL, MAKE ME ONE WITH EVERYTHING.



was cooking. He had rented a studio apartment over Nelson’s China Shoppe and Cafe, just outside of Center Lovell. It had room for a single bed, a fiberglass shower and a two-burner stove. At twenty-nine, while stirring a shrimp and pea risotto, Danny literally heard his calling as his small TV played an interview with the personal chef of a once legendary record producer who was currently on trial for shooting a woman through the face. All he heard, while the final chicken stock was added to the swelling rice, was “personal chef,” and he found himself saying it out loud over and over. The personal chef was a young woman, and her voice became a siren’s song echoing through the pines of Maine and begging him come. The compass pointed to the land of the rich and show business elite. Danny knew he could cook well enough; this he had been teaching himself for years, one cookbook at a time. In the days before the incident with his step-brother and Ben Rosen, the days of young Danny, his parents Stu and Darla all making pancakes on Sunday, he would dance around in his stockinged feet tossing eggshells into the trash and watching as his Dad flipped pancakes higher and higher as a squealing Darla caught them on plates. The kitchen was the de-militarized zone. The armed camps of monosyllabic father and depressed lonely mother lay down their arsenals and accusations. The cease-fires included salad and dessert. Danny stretched them out as long as he could around the hand-me-down pine table and its mismatched chairs. At thirteen, he could make veal stock and flan. He knew from his early teens that he was handsome and sexy; this he had been inappropriately told by men who called his adolescent looks ‘devastating’ and, later, by women who mostly just made sounds. He also knew that on one winter night when he was seventeen he had ruined his mother’s life and the lives of two others. Maybe three, he thought, but rarely. As the housekeeper brought him a warm Pellegrino and a glass of ice, Palmer Johns entered from another wing. He had begun speaking while still quite far from Danny and all Danny heard was, “for the first month, all right?” “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you,” Danny said. “Really? You really want to do this with me? I believe you did hear me.” The housekeeper made herself a blur as she fled. Danny stood with his back to the cubby containing the tiny version of the Shower Kitchen, the state of the art waterfall showerhead and espresso maker for those who skip breakfast. The light from the display case was making a halo around Danny’s full head of chestnut hair, and he knew it, letting his face tilt upward to allow the light to make planes on his chiseled face. He knew he was ready for his close-up. He also knew within that instant that Palmer was as gay as Halloween in Manhattan. “Well, if what you said was that I work from five p.m. until ten p.m. four days a week and make eight hundred a week then yes, I agree.” Palmer’s eyes opened until they were completely round. He jerked his head back and looked at the ceiling, searching for his next thought. “You know, Daniel, when I first came here I was full of young man eagerness and a degree from Emerson in Media Arts. I had lived in Boston, L.A. and even Malibu. I wouldn’t have had the balls to make this kind of scene with a prospective employer, not the balls.” 8 0 W E S T O N M A G A Z I N E G R O U P. C O M

“I honestly didn’t hear what you said.” Palmer pointed to a small chair covered in pony skin. “Sit.” Danny didn’t move. Palmer sat on the pony’s mate, crossing his legs and holding his knees with clasped hands. Danny saw a wide platinum band on Palmer’s right ring finger. “Okay. Well, I said that, sit Daniel, that for the first month, Daniel sit, for the first month, SIT.” Danny sat and let out a tiny “woof.” Palmer’s eyebrows raised along with his dowager’s hump. “For the first month you would be on call. Understand? Evan and his wife don’t keep standard business hours. They entertain a great deal and they make it a point of honor to serve the latest in culinary trends. They are also extremely health conscious but not freaky about it, so yes to pork products and duck fat, but served with, like, lemon rind and stuff to cut the fat or whatever. Questions so far?” “No.” Lemon rind? This’ll be easy, he thought. “Let me finish. Their friends are the movers and shakers of media, and so you will undoubtedly recognize many of them. Discretion is job one. Understand? No eye contact, no schmoozing and above all, no f—-ing flirting!” Danny let silence hang. He wondered how many other job applicants there had been and whether the homeliest would get picked. He also wondered if the no-f—-ing-flirting clause came from on high or was a more personal concern of Palmer’s. “Two.” Palmer uncrossed his legs. “Two...hundred a day?” “Two thousand a week to be on call twenty-four seven. And you start tomorrow and there’s a New Year’s Eve party for which we’d hire some extra help for you.” “Wouldn’t Evan.” “Now you see, Daniel, that’s exactly what I mean. Nobody invited you to call him Evan. And probably never will. Are we not clear on this?” “Wouldn’t a party of this size be catered is what I was trying to say, Mr. Johns.” “Well, for one thing, it’s only going to be ten people and for another thing I may look like I enjoy biting wit and innuendo and sarcasm and all that but actually it doesn’t get much play with me. So if you want this job, let me know now and we’ll just hope you can make the necessary personality adjustments.” His right hand fell between his legs and dangled limply. “Juditha Leland said to hire you in her lovely castrating way so this is a formality and almost a waste of my time.” Danny thought it interesting that balls had come up again. I could play him, Danny thought. And for two grand a week, I could enjoy it. He worried for a moment that Juditha had told Palmer why Danny was leaving her employ. She wouldn’t dare, Danny assured himself. “I’ll take it,” Danny said as he rose, extending his hand. “All right.” Palmer stood and after a beat extended his hand. Danny was transfixed by the ring. It was wide as a shell casing and pricey if it was platinum. If it was silver, he could make Palmer blink first. He met Palmer’s hand in a quick shake.

“Platinum?” Danny asked. Please be silver, he thought. “Of course.” Damn. “Tomorrow come at eight a.m. and you’ll meet them and make breakfast. And wear clean slacks and a loose shirt, no aftershave or cologne, she’s allergic.” Danny realized that he didn’t know Evan Barrows-Burke’s wife’s name. Palmer had only referred to her as ‘his wife’ or ‘she’. “What is Mrs. Burke’s name?” “Tremula. She’s a poet. Poet-ess.” “Any good?” Palmer responded before thinking. “Hey, “Uterine Stanzas” is on sale at the Aspen airport. And how many poets does it take to rhyme ‘respect to me’ with ‘clitoredectomy.’ Please, Mary.” Danny was impressed that Palmer could lower his head and roll his eyes at the same time. But he had uttered the shibboleth. The gay password. Lisp-free, no pelvic semaphore but clear as a bell. “Maybe I’ll get hold of it and give it a read.” “Maybe being such a blatant and oily suck-up has nothing to do with cooking. What exactly is your m.o. Danny? Why did you leave Juditha and oh yes, can I see a sheet with some other references in Los Angeles? Bring it tomorrow.” “We just shook so I think I have the job already.” “This is for my personnel files. Evan insists.” ‘Evan’ was drawn out a bit, heavier on the ‘Eh’. Danny thought there was something possessive about it. Intimate, or longing for intimacy by association, viral among the desert crowd. “I’ll drop off a resume, meaning I’ll go home and write one since I’ve never been asked for one before.” “Danny, you’ve never been asked for one because your qualifications for your so far junior varsity responsibilities were your looks and your flinty charm. You may in fact be an axe murderer, which I will find out, as I’m having you run on the Maine and California police computers as we speak. I’ve checked the Feds as well. And I have your transcripts from your less than stellar community college years as well as a copy of the inscriptions in your yearbook.” Danny imagined a cartoon of himself rising from his body and lunging for Palmer to beat him senseless. “Then why a resume?” “Just make it a mission statement as to why you want this job and forty suggested dishes you can make. Would that kill you?” It was one thing to play steel-toed footsies with an adversary; it was another to play with your knees bound. Palmer was a sadist and had some uber-standing around here. Danny needed the job, the money was amazing and he was not ever going to reveal why Juditha and he had parted company. He decided to go home and cook up some buttkissing paragraphs about the personal food service industry, list eighty dishes and prepare five to bring as a thank you/f—k you for Palmer. “Any food allergies, Palmer?” “None for Evan, she doesn’t eat tomatoes if they’re cut longwise.” “How about you?” Danny knew from Palmer’s hesitation that he took his meals elsewhere,

probably with the maid. More than likely on a tray watching a flat screen TV. “I can’t eat meat, fish or chicken, dairy or sugar.” He looked quite helpless for an instant. He hadn’t puffed up and announced that he “doesn’t,” for political reasons eat these things, more like he had been unfairly deprived of them. “Why? Nobody’s allergic to all that, are they?” “Ev...I was told to cut them out for three months to see if my body chemistry would change. Apparently, people who eat these things have a different...a noticeably different body...odor.” He was looking out the window toward the driveway. Night was falling. Danny moved a step closer to him. “I’ve heard that. It really works, eliminating those things. Me, I stink of garlic for days after eating it, red wine, too.” Palmer took a few seconds to determine if there was ridicule in Danny’s voice and decided that a man that beautiful couldn’t also be compassionate. It might just kill him if it were true. And ruin the ecology of the Barrows-Burke household. “Whatever. It’s not me you’re cooking for. I don’t give a shit.” Danny moved to the front door, but Palmer was opening the kitchen door for him. He doubled back and exited without a goodbye. Personal chef was a great gig, he thought. Two thou a week was much needed money he couldn’t make anywhere else. Palmer was a weasel and would only have his back for target practice. I can handle him, Danny thought. He’s just another bitter fag. It won’t kill me. The Palm Springs winter was clear and shiny. The air was crisp without being hot or cold, and the night sky was a starlit rotunda. I have a job, he thought, inhaling deeply. I’m on my feet. I’m connected for life and they all have to eat. Unless all their bodies stink, he laughed. The New Year is coming and I might even call my parents. Might. “Maybe this is my year,” he said out loud. Daniel Fahey jumped into his nineteen ninety-five Volvo station wagon and pulled out of the Barrows-Burke driveway, looking in the rear view mirror to see if Palmer was watching him from the kitchen window. He was. Danny smiled. This is gonna be interesting, he thought. Danny would be dead by New Year’s Day. ❉ Joanna Gleason is a Tony Award-winning actress (Stephen Sondheim’s “Into The Woods”) who made her film debut in Woody Allen’s “Hannah and Her Sisters.” She was also in “Crimes and Misdemeanors” as Woody Allen’s wife, “Heartburn” for Mike Nichols, “Mr. Holland’s Opus,” “Boogie Nights,” and will be seen in the upcoming “The Rebound” with Catherine Zeta Jones. Her Broadway credits include “Joe Egg” and “Dirty Rotten Scoundrels,” for which she was nominated again for Tonys and Drama Desk Awards, plus off Broadway shows “The Normal Heart” by Larry Kramer, “Something You Did” by Willie Holtzman and Lincoln Center’s “Happiness.” TV includes recurring roles on “The West Wing” and “Friends,” among many other appearances. Joanna is married to actor Chris Sarandon and they live most happily in Connecticut. If they could find a translation in Latin for “What took us so long?” it would hang over their front door.


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BACHELOR DEGREE BY JUDITH MARKS-WHITE I REMEMBER THE FIRST TIME SHE SAID IT. WE WERE IN A TAXI HURTLING DOWN PARK AVENUE ON A STEAMY AUGUST AFTERNOON. "Boyfriend," my mother, Madeleine, was saying, not in a mocking, judgmental tone of voice but matter-of-factly, as though she could be referring to the weather or an item on a menu. "Mark Robbins would make a very nice boyfriend, don't you think?" I was applying mascara at the time. The taxi lurched, and the brush slipped from my eyelashes onto my eyebrow, extending my brow line all the way over to my right ear. "Boyfriend? I don't quite picture Mark Robbins as boyfriend material." "Oh, not for you, darling," my mother said, "for me." And then I knew: My mother, Madeleine Krasner-Wolfe, had crossed over to the dark side. I come from a long line of family members who are crazy, each in his or her own way. "Not crazy," my mother said (who had begged me to refer to her on a first-name basis since I was three), "eccentric." "Why can't I have a mother who's normal?" I had implored throughout my adolescence. "Don't be ridiculous, Samantha. Anyone can have a normal mother. Eccentricity is so much more appealing. Someday you'll understand that." But I could never adjust to the fact that when my friends' mothers were puttering about their kitchens, mine was lying on a table getting a bikini wax or sipping champagne in the middle of the afternoon. On this particular Tuesday we were on our way to lunch, a pastime 8 8 W E S T O N M A G A Z I N E G R O U P. C O M

my mother considered an occasion, not because she loved to eat but because it allowed her to parade herself in front of the world in her latest fashion ensembles. "It's so festive dining in restaurants," she said, "eating at home is absolutely dull." My mother took daily living to new heights and considered Auntie Mame her fictional role model. She watched the film over and over, often quoting Rosalind Russell's famous line: "Life is a banquet, and most poor suckers are starving to death." Fortunately, my mother could indulge her fancies because she was loaded. My father, her first husband, Henry Krasner, whom she professed to be the love of her life, had croaked at forty-five on the sixteenth hole at the Rock Ridge Country Club, leaving my mother with a gaping hole in her heart, along with a small fortune that Dad had made in disposable diapers for adults, and an art collection worth millions. As we were leaving the cemetery, my mother told me through a barrage of tears sprinkling down the front of her black veil that she could finally live the life she was meant to lead. "Your father was a wonderful man," she said, "but frugal was his middle name. He wouldn't part with a cent. Of course," she mused, "in the end that was probably a wise move, because now I won't have to be a bag lady." That was certainly true. My mother was not one to make do. The only bags she paraded were designed by Gucci, Fendi, and Louis Vuitton. Cutting back was not something she could gracefully handle. And so, before my dad's body was even cold, she went out and bought herself a sporty little Mercedes SLK350 Roadster that she rationalized would help her through the grieving process. Her accountant, Sheldon Glick, had assured my mother that shewould be fine as long as she lived within reason. "Within reason? What does that mean?" Madeleine had put down

her lace-edged monogrammed hankie and stopped crying long enough to inquire. "You're a rich woman," Sheldon had said. "But like most of us, unless we're Rockefellers, you need to be sensible." Sensible to Madeleine was having enough dough to keep her in her Upper East Side apartment with Gilda, our housekeeper of thirty years; the summerhouse in Connecticut; and a monthly allowance

that guaranteed she could continue living in the style to which she deserved to be accustomed. "I'm not a woman who takes to change well," she'd said. "Continue living as you are for now." Sheldon had reached over his desk and took her hand. "We'll revisit this subject in a few months." "Yes," my mother had agreed. "After the ground settles, I'll be able to think more clearly." Then she'd taken herself over to Per Se for lunch and drowned her sorrows in a couple of dirty martinis. That was the one thing about my mother: She had style. But the relationship I shared with my dad was unique. He was the role model for every man who would eventually come my way. In turn, I was the love of his life. He openly made his affections known, not only through the gifts that he showered upon me but with weekly dinners, just the two of us. From the time I was six, Tuesdays became our night. Although my mother often asked to tag along, Dad refused her entry into our exclusive club. This was our time alone, and no intruders, even my mother, were allowed to trespass on this ritualistic occasion. Hundreds of such evenings punctuated my future. We began a tradition where these weekly jaunts allowed us to catch up on each other's lives. Not once did I ever remember him canceling our standing appointment. In that way, Tuesdays belonged only to us, and in that way, they became cherished moments. When he died, that abruptly ended. Dad's death brought with it a sense of longing I had not yet been able to relinquish-a yearning for something that would never be the same again. I had accumulated a wealth of knowledge from our talks. I was privy to personal insights and private thoughts he enjoyed sharing only with me, mainly because my reactions to whatever he told me were spontaneous and deliciously secretive. There were times I believed my mother was jealous, though she always brushed it aside by asking: "Whatever do you two have to talk about?" "Everything and nothing," I would

respond, hoping that would placate her, but it never did. These dinners, my dad's and mine, provided a setting I could retreat to in ways that I never could with my mother; Tuesdays became some of my happiest times. While my relationship with my mother was close, it was my father who left an indelible imprint on my psyche. Without judgment, he gently guided me through childhood, adolescence, and young adulthood and served as my one-man support system and guardian of my soul. My mother, colorful though she was, exhibited her parenting in more outspoken, symbiotic ways that often put tension between us. As I evolved more into my own, she clung to me with an intensity that often felt smothering. After my father's death, while my mother lapsed into grieving mode, I mourned his death in a less conspicuous way. In the days that followed, I kept hearing him call my name, which would stop me cold. After that, Tuesdays were never the same again. Now, at thirty-eight, I lived alone on the opposite side of Central

looks up to you. You're her role model." "You're the one with all the space, Mother. Why can't she stay with you? You have all those guest rooms just lying around with no one in them." The blood drained from my mother's face. "Postmenopausal women don't have roommates," she said. "Anyway, she adores you. Maybe you can help her get over her shyness with boys. You know, teach her the ropes." But the only rope I was interested in was a noose to tie around Celeste's chubby neck. Finally, after much prodding, I acquiesced. It was too hard to fight my mother. Celeste moved in on the last day of June with her bunny slippers and five bottles of olive oil she used as both a moisturizer and hair conditioner. Celeste had an edginess that couldn't be ignored. The elder of two daughters of Elaine and Philip Bleckner from Tenafly, New Jersey, Celeste, at twenty, was the less attractive of the two. Her nineteen-

The year she turned sixty, my mother gave herself a birthday present of a face lift, tummy tuck and breast implants just so people like Celeste would continue to use words like “hot” and “fab-u-lous” to describe her. Park in a brownstone on West Eighty-Fifth Street. Alone, that is until my first cousin Celeste Bleckner, a sophomore at Sarah Lawrence, decided to invite herself to spend the month of July with me. My mother had a hand in making the arrangements. "You know I can't stand her," I said. "Darling, it's the least you can do. Your aunt Elaine is my only sister. When she asked, what could I say?" "No!" I said emphatically. "The last thing I need is Celeste following me around all summer. I'll have no privacy whatsoever. Why can't she stay at school? Bronxville is only a half hour from the city." "Celeste wants to experience what city life is all about. It's only for a month," Madeleine said, holding firm. "And you do have that extra bedroom." "You mean my office?" "She can sleep on the pullout couch. It will make her happy, and it's good for family relations." "It might have been nice to have had Celeste check with me first." "She was afraid you'd say no." "Well, she's got that right," I said. "Sweetheart, do it for me." Madeleine played on my guilt. "Celeste 9 0 W E S T O N M A G A Z I N E G R O U P. C O M

year-old sister, Fern, had no trouble attracting men, but she couldn't care less. Fern was rumored to be a lesbian who was having an affair with a girl she had met at Smith during freshman year. The family tried keeping this hush-hush. "Even more reason to be compassionate," Madeleine said. "Poor Elaine is beside herself with grief that Fern might never give her grandchildren. At least with Celeste, there's still a chance. That's where you come in. Maybe you can find a suitable man for her." "The men I know are much older." "They might have younger brothers. You never know. At any rate, a month with you might be the best thing for her." "And the worst for me," I said. "Celeste will be a dream roommate," Madeleine added. "She'll never cramp your style or borrow your clothes. Maybe she can even shed a few pounds." For years, Aunt Elaine had referred to her daughter as "pleasingly plump." At five-two and 160 pounds she was downright fat. On the plus side: She wouldn't be borrowing my clothes. The negative: She never dated and would be hanging around my apartment every evening. Celeste considered a night at home with a hot novel and a

pint of ice cream about as good as it got. One of the reasons that Madeleine was so adamant about her moving in was that Celeste adored my mother, and with Madeleine, flattery went a long way. "Aunt Madeleine is the hottest woman I've ever seen. The woman absolutely rocks. She's more like a girlfriend than a mom," Celeste said. "Sometimes that can pose a problem," I said. "I wish my mom were more like her. I mean, at sixty-two, Madeleine is fab-u-lous." "I wouldn't go spreading that around," I said. "Madeleine doesn't exactly advertise her age." "Her dirty little secret is safe with me," Celeste said. The year she turned sixty, my mother gave herself a birthday present of a face-lift, a tummy tuck, and breast implants just so people like Celeste would continue to use words like "hot" and "fab-u-lous" to describe her. "And those drop-dead clothes. I'd kill for the shoes alone," Celeste said. And so, on the Fourth of July, while fireworks exploded along the Hudson River, Celeste moved in for what was going to be a month of sheer hell. When my mother stopped by a few days later to check up on things, she was sporting her latest pair of Manolo Blahniks and a little Donna Karan purse. I was so accustomed to her beauty, I had stopped being mesmerized years ago. It was only when Celeste raised my consciousness that I had to agree: For "a woman of a certain age" Madeleine was sexy as hell. I was not the only one who thought so. Grayson Wolfe, widower and one of the most prestigious art dealers in New York, agreed. They had met at an art opening. After only a few months of dating my mom, he asked her to marry him. That same month I was hired by Alexandra Cole, owner of the Cole Gallery on Madison Avenue, to run her gallery. Alexandra entrusted me to handle all affairs when she was away in Europe on her frequent "business" trips; really, she was screwing her head off with a Frenchman named Jean-Luc. While Alexandra and Jean-Luc f--ked their way through Europe, I was still looking for my Mr. Right. In the meantime, my mother had found hers. After Grayson proposed, Mom and I went to the Four Seasons, where, in the Pool Room under a canopy of trees, she told me she was considering accepting his offer. The five-carat yellow diamond from Harry Winston had clinched the deal. "Granted, he's not your father," she said, "but he's got a lot going for him." What my mother meant was that Grayson had inherited his family's wealth and wanted nothing more than to lavish it upon her. His two sons, grown and married, were themselves highly successful. Pierce, fifty, owned a thriving orthopedic practice and lived with his wife and two boys in Atlanta. Hillard, fifty-three, a recently divorced real estate attorney from Austin, Texas, specialized in clients with big bucks. Each had become a millionaire by the time he was forty. "Grayson even agreed to sell his apartment and move into mine,"

my mother said. "You know how I detest moving." "The man is a relic. He's as old as Methuselah." "He's pushing seventy-five, but he's very spry. Don't let his age fool you. He's a tiger in the bedroom." Grayson Wolfe might have been many things,but an animal between the sheets was hard to imagine. "And let's not forget his seat on the stock exchange," my mother boasted, "and his board positions -at the American Museum of Natural History and Memorial Sloan-Kettering. Grayson is one of the most eligible bachelors in New York." "For the geriatric set, maybe." "Not to mention he has season tickets to the opera, first tier." "You detest opera, Mother." "That may be true, darling, but I adore dressing up." That June Madeleine and Grayson tied the knot at a small gathering at the Carlyle. She wore a virginal white Valentino and a Vera Wang veil adhered to her head by a clip of white orchids. Grayson took one look at his blushing bride, and an erection appeared right though his Armani tuxedo pants, helped along by the Viagra he had popped minutes before saying "I do." For hree years Madeleine and Grayson lived in marital bliss. Between my father's money and Grayson's fortune, my mother was having the time of her life running between the Westport house and Grayson's home in Millbrook, New York, where he kept two polo ponies and his Lamborghini, used only for recreational riding. In between, he and my mother sailed the Atlantic, flew to Paris twice, toured the Greek Islands, and rented a villa in Tuscany for two months. The night they returned home from Italy, Grayson complained of chest pains, blamed it on the airplane food, and dropped dead three hours later on the new Suri rug for which Madeleine had spent a bundle. Two days later, she gave the rug to Goodwill and buried Grayson Wolfe under a cherry tree at Green Willow Cemetery, where the elite meet in the afterlife. Madeleine Krasner-Wolfe was a widow once again, only this time the word "filthy" preceded "rich." Between the money of Henry Krasner and Grayson Wolfe, the world was her oyster. "Life moves in strange and unexpected ways," Sheldon Glick told Madeleine when they were going over Grayson's will. "You're a woman of substance." Then he tacked another thousand on to her bill. "I'm a woman alone... again," Madeleine sobbed. To cheer herself up, she went over to Tiffany and splurged on a little trinket. � Judith Marks-White is the author of Seducing Harry, an epicurean affair and Bachelor Degree. Both novels are published by Random House/Ballantine. In 1985, she joined the staff of the Westport News in Connecticut where her weekly Wednesday column The Light Touch has appeared for the past twenty-five years. From the Book, BACHELOR DEGREE: A Novel by Judith Marks-White. Copyright Š 2008 by Judith Marks-White. Reprinted by arrangement with Ballantine Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved.

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Down and Out on Wall Street BY . KEVIN CORCORAN

THIS was surely the summer of our discontent – brown lawns, marital discord, soured expectations. A general malaise continues to enshroud the leafy suburbs within a 100-mile radius of the epicenter of Manhattan. Economic recovery? What economic recovery? With the implosion of Lehman Brothers in the Fall of 2008 (no irony intended), the so-called wealthy communities of the tri-state area are still suffering from the nuclear winter following the apocalyptic Credit Crisis of ’08. We’re not out of the woods yet. And some are predicting we never will get out. Take David Stockman, for one. The former director of the Office of Management and Budget under Ronald Reagan, Stockman penned a blockbuster op-ed in the New York Times in mid-August contending that the Republicans under Bush permanently destroyed the U.S. economy. “If there were such a thing as Chapter 11 for politicians, the Republican push to extend the unaffordable Bush tax cuts would amount to a bankruptcy filing. The nation’s public debt... will soon reach $18 trillion.” Stockman said the situation “screams out for austerity and sacrifice.”

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The nation is quagmired in two futile wars in far-off lands, which cost taxpayers about $1 million per soldier per year to support, and the GOP is pushing extended tax breaks for the wealthy? Hey, no problem – we got ways to make up for that Central Park hedge fund honcho paying reduced taxes on his billions. After all, we have a “magic” Treasury which owns a high-tech, high-speed printing press. We can always print more paper money to keep up with the interest payments to the Chinese who hold $896 billion of our soon-to-be downgraded debt. In fact, that’s just what we’re doing.

NOW, I recognize no one is going to throw a pity party for all the MBA-clutching financial wizards who are down and out on Wall Street. But you got to have a bit of heart for their comeuppance. Sometimes. Three months ago, the doorbell rang at my home in Westport. Opening the door, I came face to face with someone I knew from Merrill Lynch, a prominent marketer in the commodities division of the firm. As far as I could recall, he was from New Canaan and I was

clueless as to why he was up in my neck of the woods. “Glenn, man,” I blinked. “How’s it going?” “You know, uh, it’s uphill, but I got some irons in the fire.” He pulled out a clipboard and cleared his throat in discomfort. “I’m here to get some information for the U.S. census.” Last month, all those temporary, government-sponsored U.S. census positions evaporated and, accordingly, the jobless rate spiked. Cynics claim the government is obfuscating the real numbers – unemployment stays suspiciously steady at 9.5% month after month, always just below double-digits. For example, Newsweek columnist Dan Gross isn’t drinking the KoolAid when it comes to the government’s propaganda. The real unemployment rate is closer to 16.5 percent, he said in July 2010, because the Federal stats conveniently don’t include the unemployed professionals who simply “give up” looking after months (or even years) of fruitless searches for employment. That goes double for the Down and Out on Wall Street. Recently, I got a call from an acquaintance from Rye Brook who was a managing director at Wachovia’s equities division for years. Then, one day, he got into a heated eff-you-and-the-horse-you-rode-in-on squabble with a rival that nearly came to fisticuffs on the trading floor. (It was actually a legendary fable among some in the business.) The rival won the political skirmish with senior management, forcing Ted out. Taking a you-can’t-fire-me-because-I-quit attitude to the situation, Ted raised enough working capital from friends and family to start up XBR Capital, an internet-based high-velocity trading system for institutions who wanted to zip in and out of the markets cheaply and anonymously. That’s where I lost track of his activities. I agreed to meet him at the rooftop bar at the Peninsula for cocktails to catch up. “How’s XBR going, Ted?” “Well, it’s not,” Ted said, staring at his martini in misery. “We ran out of capital 18 months ago, and had to shut it down.” I was sorry to hear it, I told him. So what was he up to now? He ducked the question, saying pointedly, “Do you realize that on Wall Street, you are absolutely f—-ed after the age of 40? I’ve been looking for work for nearly two years and I can’t even get a single call returned. My resumé is almost three pages long, and I get this ‘overqualified’ bullshit excuse as a cover for age discrimination every single time.” (Now that he mentioned it, I realized that there’s almost no one on a trading floor at any one of the major financial institutions who even comes close to the age of 40.) Ted continued his sour grapes. “When the housing bubble burst, the investment banks hemorrhaged talent. A lot of the talent was grayhaired guys like me. Those jobs may or may not come back someday — but even if they do, I’m not gonna have one of ‘em.” “Yeah, finance. It’s a young man’s game,” I say lamely, as I sip my Grey Goose. Ted peered at me for a moment, as if he were waiting for the right time to pop a question. Then he cleared his throat and produced a brochure. It had the Northwestern Mutual logo on it. “By the way, Kevin, I thought we’d take a moment to discuss your current situation, see if you had enough life insurance coverage – “

Inwardly, I groaned. One of the unanticipated consequences of the Wall Street meltdown is that an entire army of down-and-out Wall Streeters has transformed themselves into life insurance salesmen. Just what the world needs.

THERE’S plenty of reasons to despise the hyper-caffeinated, over-educated troglodytes who populate the trading floors in the skyscrapers of Manhattan. Collectively, we’re still not quite over the mind-numbing outrage that most of the $186 billion U.S. taxpayer-funded TARP bailout of AIG in 2009 was wired directly into the record-level bonus pools of Goldman Sachs and a couple of European banks. Once we get past that, however, it needs to be understood that Wall Street ain’t gonna change its ways, no matter what Mr. Dodd and Mr. Frank push through Congress. The money culture of Wall Street will always reward risk-taking, especially when those risks turn into obscene profits. According to the New York Federal Reserve Board, the average securities wage in New York City is six times the average nonfinancial wage. Twenty percent of all of New York State taxes are paid by this group. According to estimates from the New York State Comptroller – and this is exceptionally important – each securities job on Wall Street generates two other jobs in New York City and one additional job in the suburbs. Let’s pause to reflect on that. Going back to my friend Ted’s lament that he’s been involuntarily retired from the Street, it means that at least three other people are out of work along with him. Actually, come to think of it, that’s just an average figure cited by the Comptroller. At Ted’s former stratospheric pay grade at Wachovia, there’s probably a ripple effect of ten job losses alongside him. That sobering statistic itself, of course, is no reason for you to get a warm and fuzzy feeling inside when you see that arrogant 32-year-old mortgage-backed securities marketer at Goldman Sachs dropping in at Miller Motors in Greenwich to pick up his new yellow Lamborghini. But there is an awesome responsibility on the shoulders of the financial services community to spend their obscene compensation as quickly and as lavishly as possible on the rest of us common folk. And if they don’t? Then dire consequences follow. Let me explain.

THE pesky thing about the residential housing bust is that it’s an in-yourface blight. FOR SALE signs pop up nearly as ubiquitous as mailboxes themselves. A neighbor in the McMansion near the water flipped the keys to the bank last spring, and the thicket of weeds are an eyesore to the rest of the homeowners. And that developer who was building a $5 million spec house on the property he purchased from the famous songwriter in Rowayton? He went bust, and the edifice sits forlornly, not even close to half-finished. Everywhere you go in Westchester County, there are homes that are still occupied, but the renovation projects have been suspended indefinitely because the money dried up. Dozens of homes in the tri-state area still have the iconic TYVEK house wrap on a section of the structure for over a year, and the money’s not coming anytime soon to complete the project. Driving on the Post Road in Fairfield and Westport is a stark reminder

of the ripple effect the Down and Out refugees from Wall Street have in the suburbs. Every week, another small business goes under and their storefront goes empty. Everyone these days is hoarding their cash, and the victims are hard-working entrepreneurs who previously made an honest living for decades, in good times and bad times. The roll call of failed businesses in Connecticut’s Gold Coast is nearly of a depression-era caliber. I’m saddened to see the windows boarded up at the places that give the towns their unique character, and not some generic shopping mall sameness. There’s the small coffee place in Fairfield that could no longer compete with Starbucks; the small stationary store that couldn’t match Staples’ marketing muscle; the local hardware store where the guy’s livelihood got crushed by Home Depot; the reasonably priced local eatery that didn’t have a prayer against the aggressive new McDonald’s Dollar Menu. I often wondered where these noble entrepreneurs wind up after their businesses complete their death spirals. My uncle-in-law is an economist

mused, is how Walmart could keep the higher income customers “once the economy recovers.” Hey, Bill. No need to worry about that scenario anytime soon.

AND so, there you have it. The potential of a permanent recession among Middle Americans, a stagnation of the money-spinning engine we know as Wall Street, and stingy Fortune 500 companies amassing record stacks of cash while refusing to use the capital to create jobs. Now the wolves are at the door. Uncle Sam has to tiptoe around the Chinese when we politely ask them to not engage in trade with Iran, and to not commit human rights abuses in Tibet, because that might make Big Red angry, and they could dump a half-trillion of our national debt into the open market overnight. The Russians? They smell blood and are calling for an end to the petrodollar as the benchmark currency used to measure the value of OPEC oil, much to the impotent fury of the American government. India is buying gold like there’s no tomorrow,

There is an awesome responsibility on the shoulders of the financial services community to spend their obscene compensation as quickly and as lavishly as possible on the rest of us common folk. who noted that they end up working for the same sprawling rivals that destroyed their livelihoods. In fact, I thought I saw the former owner of my local hardware store in the lumber department of Home Depot in White Plains a few weeks back. Depending on how compassionate you are for your fellow humans, you might consider this either ironic – or tragic.

MAYBE 15 years ago, when Donald Trump was at the peak of his obscene wealth (back then he was still annoyingly referred to as “The Donald”) there was a front page story in the New York Post that shocked the nation. The Donald – are you ready for this – was caught by a photographer in a small Pennsylvania town shopping for his college age daughter – here it comes — at Walmart! The press had a field day, running a two-page spread of billionaire mogul Trump caught in the act of being a low-budget cheapskate when he was 150 miles away from the paparazzi in Manhattan. How déclassé of The Donald! But it turns out that Trump was simply way ahead of his time. In the last two post-apocalyptic years since Lehman melted away, the Down and Out of Wall Street have invaded the big box, lowbrow megastores like swarms of locusts, frantically seeking bargains. Yes, the credit crisis has turned Wall Streeters into honorary Joe Sixpackers, where they can experience the joy of saving 38% on a Sharp AQUOS big screen TV over the full price they would have paid at Harvey’s in Greenwich. Bill Simon, the chief executive of Walmart, began articulating the trend in a Morgan Stanley conference call in April 2009, noting that the superstores were filling up with higher income shoppers, who were “filling their carts with more than just low-margin groceries.” The challenge, he 11 2 W E S T O N M A G A Z I N E G R O U P. C O M

pushing up the prices to stunning levels, and – since we went off the gold standard years ago because it was such a nuisance compared to simply printing money out of thin air – we may find the cupboard is empty when we go to launch yet another ludicrous war in the Middle East. The nation may be on the precipice of a downgrade on its debt, just like Spain, Ireland and Greece, that is, if Standard & Poor’s has the cojones to actually do it and deal with the immense global repercussions of such a move. If the so-called Hindenberg Omen comes to pass (too complicated to get into here, just Google it, please), then the nation may actually go into economic freefall and wind up with the creditworthiness of a banana republic. Then the Down and Out of Wall Street will truly be down and out – the ranks of the unemployed workers in the financial sector will spike to mind-boggling levels. At that point, the Wall Streeters would have no one but themselves to blame — but who gives a damn about that or whether they can afford the monthly payments on their yellow Lamborghinis? The real problem is the ripple effect. For every Wall Streeter that crashes and burns, at least three of us go down with him. And that doomsday scenario, my friends, is why Main Street has to give a damn about what happens on Wall Street. ❉ Kevin Corcoran was “down and out” of Wall Street years ago, when he turned to writing about the financial services industry. He categorically denies the conventional wisdom that “those who can – do; those who can’t — write about those who can.” And yes, the Hindenburg Omen is just as scary as it sounds.

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LISTEN, LOOK AND LEARN IN CONNECTICUT NORWALK SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA 2010-2011 Subscriptions Available The Norwalk Symphony Orchestra is a passionate group of professional musicians serving Norwalk and its neighboring towns of Fairfield County. Its mission is to provide the opportunity to explore and discover the joys of orchestral music in an informal fashion. For over 70 years, the Norwalk Symphony Orchestra has been a vital part of the fabric of the communities it

off in September. For a list of upcoming events, call 203/847-8844 or visit WESTPORT COUNTRY PLAYHOUSE ANNOUNCES 2011 SEASON Celebrating 80 Years with a Variety of Outstanding Plays and Playwrights Works by five renowned playwrights – Christopher Durang, W. Somerset Maugham, Terrence McNally, Tennessee Williams and William Shakespeare – will comprise Westport Country Playhouse’s 2011 season. Four and five play subscriptions are now on sale, starting at $25 per ticket. “Beyond Therapy,” written by comic master Christopher Durang and directed by Tony Award winner John Rando, will play April 26 – May 14, 2011. The scintillating comedy of manners, “The Circle” by W. Somerset Maugham, will run June 7 – June 25, 2011. “Lips Together, Teeth Apart,”

written by Terrence McNally and directed by Mark Lamos, will play July 12 – July 30, 2011. “Suddenly Last Summer,” written by Tennessee Williams and directed by David Kennedy, Playhouse associate artistic director, will be staged August 23 – September 10, 2011. “Twelfth Night, or What You Will,” written by William Shakespeare and directed by Mark Lamos, will run October 11 – October 29, 2011. The final show of the 2010 season, “The Diary of Anne Frank,” by Frances Goodrich and Albert Hackett, runs September 28 through October 30, 2010. For information or ticket purchases, call 203/227-4177 YALE UNIVERSITY ART GALLERY The Yale University Art Gallery’s permanent collection includes over 185,000 works organized into 10 curatorial departments. On view on the third floor are works by Giovanni di Paolo, Albrecht Dürer, Paul Revere, Wassily Kandinsky, Louise Bourgeois, and Edward Hopper and more. Upcoming Exhibitions: John La Farge’s Second Paradise: Voyages in the South Seas, 1890–1891 October 19, 2010–January 2, 2011 Showcases many of the most important La Farge oils, watercolors, and sketches from a trip taken in 1890 with friend and historian Henry Adams, to the islands of the South Pacific—Hawaii, Samoa, Tahiti, Rarotonga, Fiji, Australia, Indonesia, Singapore, and Ceylon (now Sri Lanka). 1111 Chapel Street (at York Street), New Haven, Connecticut. 203/432-0600; Free and Open to the Public. Tuesday–Saturday 10:00 am–5:00 pm. Thursday until 8:00 pm (Sept–June).


serves and continues to enrich audiences’ cultural experience through live performances, pre-concert discussions and educational activities for all ages. 2010-2011 season kicks



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YALE CENTER FOR BRITISH ART The Independent Eye– Contemporary British Art from the Collection of Samuel and Gabrielle Lurie Through January 2, 2011 Major works by postwar British artists who came to maturity in the 1960s. Features paintings and works on paper by Patrick Caulfield, John Walker, R.B. Kitaj, Howard

Participants of the Fairfield/Westchester Museum Alliance (FWMA): Aldrich Contemporary Art Musem, Ridgefield, CT Barnum Museum, Bridgeport, CT Bruce Museum, Greenwich, CT Hudson River Museum, Yonkers, NY Hudson Valley Center for Contemporary Art, Peekskill, NY Katonah Museum of Art, Katonah, NY Neuberger Museum of Art, Purchase, NY Wave Hill, the Bronx, NY


Hodgkin, and Ian Stephenson, in addition to paintings by John Hoyland, England’s foremost abstract painter, all drawn from the New York collection of Samuel and Gabrielle Lurie. Notes from the Archive: James Frazer Stirling, Architect and Teacher October 14, 2010 — January 2, 2011 First ever exhibition of the archive of British architect, Yale School of Architecture professor, and Pritzker Prize laureate James Stirling (1924 – 1992), regarded as one of the most important and innovative architects of the twentieth century. Tuesday to Saturday 10 am to 5 pm. Sunday noon to 5 pm. Closed Mondays and major holidays. 1080 Chapel Street New Haven Connecticut. 203/432-2800;

THE JEWISH MUSEUM Houdini: Art and Magic October 29, 2010 through March 27, 2011 First Major Exhibition to Explore Life, Career and Lasting Influence of Legendary Magician Harry Houdini (1874-1926), the renowned magician and escape artist, was one of the 20th century’s most famous performers. His gripping theatrical presentations and heart-stopping outdoor spectacles attracted unprecedented crowds, and his talent for self-promotion and provocation captured headlines on both sides of the Atlantic. Visitors will be able to explore the career and legacy of the celebrated entertainer while considering his lasting impact on contemporary art and culture. Shifting the Gaze: Painting and Feminism Through January 30, 2011 Key Works by Judy Chicago, Eva Hesse, Lee Krasner, Miriam Schapiro, Nicole Eisenman and Others Taking the visitor through a half-century of painting, the exhibition focuses on art at the crossroads of societal shift and individual

expression. Shifting the Gaze places feminist art in a larger context, exploring its roots in Abstract Expressionism, Pop and Minimalism, and extending to the present, when feminist impulses remain vital in recent works targeting the representation of women in popular culture. 1109 Fifth Avenue at 92nd Street, Manhattan. 212/423-3200; NEUBERGER MUSEUM OF ART / PURCHASE COLLEGE American People Black Light: Faith Ringgold’s Paintings of the 1960s Through December 19, 2010 Features the artist’s two earliest series, American People (1962-1967) and Black Light (1967-1969). In both series, Ringgold explores issues of race and conflict in the United States. Natalie Jeremijenko: Connected Environments Through October 24, 2010 An overview of the work of Natalie Jeremijenko, an engineer and artist whose work explores the impact of technology on society and the environment. Pat Steir: Drawing Out of Line Through December 19, 2010 Pat Steir, a major figure in American Art since the 1970s, has created some of the most ambitious and challenging drawings of the late twentieth century. R. H. Quaytman: Paintings November 27 - April 3, 2011 R.H. Quaytman challenges expectations about what constitutes a painting by borrowing productive techniques and visual vocabularies from sculpture, photography, drawing, printmaking, and book design. The Neuberger Museum of Art, Purchase College, State University of New York, is located on the Purchase College campus at 735 Anderson Hill Road in Purchase, New York. Visit or call 914/251-6100 for general information and directions. Open Tuesday through Sunday, 12 noon to 5 pm. ❉

~ May 29 through December 31, 2010 ~

Women of Fashion. Women of Mystery. Women of Substance. Sargent painted them all. The Fenimore Art Museum in Cooperstown, New York presents the first museum exhibition devoted exclusively to Sargent’s portraits of women. Featuring drawings of the infamous Madame X.

Private Collection, Lent Courtesy Joslyn Art Museum, Omaha, Nebraska

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Keeping You Together elcome to The Residence at Cannondale, a new concept in assisted living for seniors. Reminiscent of a New England Bed & Breakfast, the building is designed to accommodate both couples and individuals with a private bathroom for each bedroom. Apartments will include garden access or balconies for added pleasure. Staff will be available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week to provide housekeeping, meals and assistance with the activities of daily living. All programs at The Greens at Cannondale will be available to the residents, including our innovative, activity-based Evergreen Program for persons with Alzheimer's and related dementia. Residents will also have priority access to on-site Wilton Meadows Rehabilitation and Health Care Center.


Amenities at The Greens at Cannondale include: • Wellness & Fitness Centers • A Beauty Salon/Barber Shop • A Café, Movie Theater & Card • and Game Rooms • On-site Banking • Membership to the YMCA and • Pool and to the Four Seasons • Racquet Club • A Library Area with Computer Access • Landscaped Garden Walkways • and a Putting Green Space is limited, so call (203) 761-1191 today to learn how you can reserve a place at The Residence at Cannondale.

Residence A Unique, Luxury, Assisted Living Residence in a Beautiful Country Setting

The Residence at Cannondale will feature a traditional décor including crown molding, chair railings, wainscoting, granite counter tops, cherry doors and wood floors.

435 Danbury Road, Wilton, CT 06897

A Unique, Luxury, Assisted Living Residence in a Beautiful Country Setting

Come as you are. Leave how you want to be. · Facial Treatments · Massage · Body Treatments · Waxing · Personal training, Yoga, Pilates

· Botox/Dysport · Restylane/Juvederm · Laser photorejuvenation · Laser hair removal

AESTHETIC CENTER & SPA r m a g e s p a . c o m

gift cards available 300 Danbury Road, Route 7, Wilton, CT

Call for your appointment today 203 761 9200

Full life ahead... Choose your path to exceptional senior living.

Take any road you please … it curves always, which is a continual promise … — Mark Twain

When you follow your heart, you can’t go wrong. Mark Twain knew this when he fell in love with the beauty of the Connecticut countryside and purchased 248 acres in Redding. If you long to escape to a landscape of rolling hills, woodlands and picturesque meadows, without giving up your independence, the vibrant senior lifestyle at Meadow Ridge is sure to capture your heart—from the moment you view our lovely entrance, which is pictured above. Exceptional services tailored to your personal preferences allow you time to enjoy an abundance of amenities and participate in engaging activities. As you choose your path to a secure, fulfilling future, take a close look at Meadow Ridge. Call us today at (203) 544-7777 or toll-free at (877) 544-8100 to learn more or schedule a personal tour.

A Senior Care Development, LLC Community

100 Redding Road Redding, CT 06896 (203) 544-7777 or toll-free (877) 544-8100


First in Fairfield County to earn Baby-Friendly™ Designation* In addition to its high-risk obstetrical services, special care nursery and breakthrough screening technologies, our Family Birthing Center in Bridgeport, CT also offers the safest and most positive birth experience possible.

Trust us to deliver. *Official Designation of the Baby-Friendly Hospital Initiative (BFHI) sponsored by the World Health Organization and United Nations Children’s Fund 203-576-6087

N ow open In W eston C enter

S ee What All TheE xcitement is About!


Convenient Locations...

136 Elm Street New Canaan, CT 06840 203-966-9563

190 Weston Road Weston, CT 06883 203-226-7800

Prescriptions · Cosmetics· Fun Jewelry & Accessories· Gifts· Cards· Toys

Prescription Transfers Easily Arranged. Just Give Us A Call!

People choose hospitals for a lot of reasons. I chose Norwalk Hospital because I needed answers. Nobody else was able to figure out what was wrong with me. Then, physicians from the Center for Digestive Diseases performed a double balloon enteroscopy, a diagnostic procedure that only Norwalk Hospital and one other hospital in the state offers. They found the tumor that was causing my problem and quickly performed the surgery I needed to get better. It’s easy to understand why Norwalk Hospital is ranked in the Top 5% of Hospitals in the Nation for Overall Gastrointestinal Services by HealthGrades®. I trusted Norwalk Hospital to get me back to my life and to my grandchildren. And, I’m glad I did.

1 more reason to choose Norwalk Hospital Center for Digestive Diseases

Myrna Tucker – Grateful Center for Digestive Diseases patient

2010 Rankings

For more information call 1-866-NHB-WELL or visit

Life on your own terms

BH institute igrt

Fight Cancer without w ithout m mi missing issing a b be beat eat TomoTherapy™ is a medical marvel that is changing the playing field of radiation treatment. With pinpoint accuracy, TomoTherapy targets and destroys cancer with unprecedented precision. This can significantly reduce side effects and provide a greater potential for cure. TomoTherapy and the Institute for Image-Guided RadioTherapy. It’s life, on your own terms.

800.247.TOMO . .TOM .T OMO insti titute

1 Theall Road Rye, New York 10580 Dr. Daniel E. Fass, Director



Image-Guided RadioTherapy ™ Physicians & staff affiliated with Greenwich Hospital

©2009 Institute for Image-Guided RadioTherapy.

Advanced Dentistry Of Westchester Part of the DaVinci Dental "Extreme Makeover" Team as seen on ABC-TV The practice is called Advanced Dentistry of Westchester because it offers patients of all ages the latest in dental care well before others in the profession. Using minimally invasive techniques such as computer-guided implants, which can provide “teeth in an hour” and laser “drill-less” fillings and soft tissue treatment, Dr. Kenneth Magid and Dr. Sabrina Magid provide an amazing and unique experience for the dental patient. This advanced treatment even extends to treating snoring and mild obstructive sleep apnea with the new Somnomed oral appliance, that can often replace the CPAP for patients unwilling or unable to use it. Named one of America’s Top Dentists by the Westchester Magazine survey and the Consumers’ Research Council of America, Dr. Magid is an Associate Professor of international and honors esthetics at NYU College of Dentistry and teaches other dentists from around the world the techniques and artistry of creating beautiful smiles. Part of the DaVinci Dental “Extreme Makeover” team as seen on ABC-TV, Dr. Magid has also created the beautiful smiles of celebrities and your Westchester/ Fairfield neighbors. Under the guidance of Dr. Sabrina Magid the practice has set up the services to treat deaf and hard-of-hearing patients including text and instant messaging for appointments, a knowledge of American Sign Language, and an understanding of the special needs of these patients. By carefully communicating with their patients and working together with their team of dedicated specialists, hygienists, assistants and patient coordinators Drs. Sabrina and Kenneth Magid create a plan to achieve the highest level of health and beauty within their patients’ scheduling and financial comfort.

“Named one of America’s Top Dentists by the Westchester Magazine survey and the Consumers’ Research Council of America”

Kenneth S. Magid, D.D.S. Sabrina B. Magid, D.M.D. 163 Halstead Avenue Harrison, NY 914 835 0542

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                                                                             

   


future future future snorer? snorer? snorer?

The The TheGelb Gelb GelbCenter Center Center Michael Michael MichaelGelb, Gelb, Gelb,DDS, DDS, DDS,MS MS MS

12 12 12 Old Old Old Mamaronek Mamaronek Mamaronek Road,White Road,White Road,White Plains, Plains, Plains, NY NY NY 914.686.4528 914.686.4528 914.686.4528 635 635 635 Madison Madison Madison Avenue, Avenue, Avenue, 19th 19th 19th Floor, Floor, Floor, New New NewYork, York, York, NY NY NY 212.752.1662 212.752.1662 212.752.1662


IsIsIs your your your little little little one one one aafuture afuture future snorer? snorer? snorer? Many Many Many kids kids kids today today today are are are unable unable unable tototo breathe breathe breathe comfortably comfortably comfortably through through through their their their noses noses noses and and and instead instead instead breathe breathe breathe through through through their their their mouths. mouths. mouths.Allergies, Allergies, Allergies, nasal nasal nasal polyps, polyps, polyps, and and and large large large adenoids adenoids adenoids are are are few few few among among among many many many potential potential potential causes causes causes for for for nasal nasal nasal obstruction. obstruction. obstruction. Children Children Children who who who are are are mouth mouth mouth breathers breathers breathers tend tend tend tototo have have have growth growth growth patterns patterns patterns that that that differ differ differ from from from the the the rest rest rest ofofof the the the population. population. population. Their Their Their lower lower lowerjaws jaws jaws are are are smaller smaller smaller and and andshoved shoved shovedback, back, back, their their theirlips lips lipsdon’t don’t don’tclose, close, close, and and andtheir their theirnoses noses nosestend tend tendtototo develop develop develop aabump. abump. bump. The The The dropped dropped dropped lower lower lower jaw jaw jaw usually usually usually causes causes causes the the the tongue tongue tongue tototo fall fall fall into into into the the the back back back ofofof the the the throat. throat. throat. This This This condition, condition, condition, combined combined combined with with with large large large tonsils, tonsils, tonsils, aalong along long palate, palate, palate, and and and nasal nasal nasal obstruction, obstruction, obstruction, completes completes completes the the the ingredient ingredient ingredient list list list for for for snoring. snoring. snoring. Obstructed Obstructed Obstructedbreathing breathing breathinginininchildren children childrenand and andadults adults adultsdisrupts disrupts disruptssleep sleep sleepand and and causes causes causes the the the brain brain brain tototo wake wake wake up up up hundreds hundreds hundreds ofofof times times times per per per night. night. night. The The Theresulting resulting resulting disruptive disruptive disruptive ororor fragmented fragmented fragmented sleep sleep sleep prevents prevents prevents individuals individuals individuals from from from getting getting getting the the the needed needed needed deep deep deep delta delta delta sleep sleep sleep and and and causes causes causes fatigue, fatigue, fatigue, forgetfulness, forgetfulness, forgetfulness, and and and irritability irritability irritability upon upon uponawakening. awakening. awakening.Kids Kids Kids can can can even even even become become become hyperactive. hyperactive. hyperactive. The The The good good good news news news isisthat isthat that with with with the the the right right right diagnosis diagnosis diagnosis and and and treatment treatment treatmentchildren children children can can can breathe breathe breathe through through through their their their noses. noses. noses. ENTs ENTs ENTs and and and orthodontists orthodontists orthodontists can can can change change change the the the shape shape shape ofofof children’s children’s children’s faces-giving faces-giving faces-giving them them them aabeautiful abeautiful beautiful smile smile smile and and and aapleasing apleasing pleasing profile profile profile with with with aaa strong strong strong chin chin chin and and and full full full lips-and lips-and lips-and enhance enhance enhancechildren’s children’s children’sdaytime daytime daytimeperformance performance performanceby by byopening opening openingairways airways airwaysand and andeliminating eliminating eliminating headaches, headaches, headaches, neck neck neck aches, aches, aches, ear ear ear ache ache ache and and and snoring. snoring. snoring. According According According tototo the the the Stanford Stanford Stanford University University University Sleep Sleep Sleep Center, Center, Center, treating treating treating children children children with with with preventive preventive preventive interceptive interceptive interceptive orthodontics orthodontics orthodontics can can cangreatly greatly greatly reduce reduce reduce snoring snoring snoring and and and sleep sleep sleep apnea apnea apnea problems problems problems they they they might might might encounter encounter encounter asasas adults. adults. adults. Many Many Many ofofof the the the Gelb Gelb Gelb Center’s Center’s Center’s orthodontists orthodontists orthodontists and and and ENTs ENTs ENTs inininWestchester Westchester Westchesterand and andNew New New York York YorkCity City Cityfocus focus focuson on onbreathing breathing breathing related related relatedsleep sleep sleep disorders disorders disordersinininchildren children childrenand and andadults. adults. adults. Coordinating Coordinating Coordinatingthe the theefforts efforts effortsofofofdentists dentists dentistsand and andENTs, ENTs, ENTs,one one one ofofofthe the thebest best bestways ways waysofofofopening opening openingthe the thenose, nose, nose,for for forexample example exampleisisis early early early expansion expansion expansion ofofofthe the the palate. palate. palate. Small, Small, Small, non-invasive non-invasive non-invasivesleep sleep sleeprecorders recorders recordersthat that thatresemble resemble resemble Dick Dick Dick Tracy Tracy Tracy watches watches watches can can can monitor monitor monitor children children children and and and adults adults adults while while while they they they sleep sleep sleep ininin their their their own own own beds. beds. beds.InInIn these these these times times times ofofof increased increased increased stress, stress, stress, not not not only only only isisis ititit important important important tototo get get get enough enough enough sleep, sleep, sleep, but but but also also also good-quality, good-quality, good-quality, non-fragmented non-fragmented non-fragmented sleep. sleep. sleep.


HUSH MONEY MY FATHER’S homecoming only two days after his departure with my mother on a dignitary’s tour of Israel—awarded to him for raising millions of dollars—was not quite a first class arrangement. Instead of returning in luxury, my father came home from Tiberius, on the Sea of Galilee, in a slatted shipping crate haphazardly plastered from top to bottom with “Port of Entry” stickers and official “Customs” stamps. Big block letters that had been exposed to rain during the transporting of cargo had leaked red ink into the cheap, porous wood. The large container had been proclaimed “free of communicable disease.” But my father’s disease, while not a public health threat, is indeed a contagious and lasting disease. Under the microscope the spiral threads of his DNA, the double helix of his verbal brilliance and leader traits, twist into the DNA of his black depression. His illness flows through my bloodlines, and most importantly; his breakability has blighted my heart. Nat Chadwick, my father, was a drunk who spent most of his weekday evenings in upscale bars, aided in his quest to be blotto by bartenders, maitre d’s and his ever-faithful sycophants, barflies and drunk cronies who benefited from his ferocious wit and drunken over-spending. In the rare candid photos I have of him taken in the 1930s when he was a labor organizer in the South, he is standing on a rickety porch with both arms draped around two boozy broads. He’s laughing. His man-in-the-moon, wide-faced openness and his smile are what I loved most about him. There is a soft heart leaping out of those photos despite the fact that he’s wearing what’s now called a “wife beater” undershirt. For all of my father’s rough and gruff posturing, I never saw him do a mean thing to anyone. Though he came home drunk every night, when he sang Melancholy Baby off key and wobbling, I was a goner. Madly in love. Unfortunately, he ended many of his performances with a fast exit for a barfing trip to the bathroom. During the day, Daddy presided over one of the most powerful trade unions in the country, and at the time of his death was on the short list to begin hearings for the cabinet post of Secretary of Labor. JFK had phoned a month before the assassination and told Daddy to get his public drinking under control before the hearings. That was a tall order for Daddy, who needed alcohol to be socially comfortable. At the funeral home I learned that inside that hideous crate was a plain pine coffin. Though Daddy and his family renounced Judaism in the early 1900s, my father supposedly requested that he be wrapped in a


white shroud and buried amongst Jews. Apparently the crate had been constructed around him. In the days after the funeral I stuffed away my terror of what would happen to our family without Daddy’s mega-job, the money, the perks. I worried about who would make me a three minute egg every morning, crack it and open it and hand me a spoon. Who would wait patiently while I finished my milk, gently prodding me because he drove me to school and didn’t want me to be late. He nicknamed me Dilly Dally. As the steady stream of high profile visitors — including the Mayor and all of the City commissioners— paraded through our apartment along with the show biz faces in the days after his death, I couldn’t drown out the sound of the sirens, the squadron of police cars leading the reportedly more than a thousand mourners, hundreds of blocks up to the George Washington Bridge into New Jersey, where he was buried. I was sixteen. Certainly old enough to know that my father was too epic, too smart, to die such an ignominious death, and as the weeks went by I began to doubt Nat Chadwick’s body was really in that box. I knew my father. I knew him better than anyone else. He sang only for me. Here is what really happened: Daddy made a daring, final escape— he used his scotch-soaked twinkling charm, and his ever-present wads of cash to bribe the Israeli doctors. They arranged for a getaway car to whisk him from the triage tent in the Army Hospital where my mother had taken him when he complained of chest pains. That’s what he did. Yes, that is exactly right. Now at 103, he is padding through olive groves in rope sandals. He no longer keeps a baseball bat in the trunk of his car. He doesn’t have a car. He carries a branch to use as a crook. He is never inebriated in that land that I imagine looks like Anthony Quinn’s Greece. In Tiberius on the Sea of Galilee, my father is not a tormented man. Nor does the grey beast of melancholy, which climbed on his back and sent him into remorseful tears after every bad bender, stalk him. My father, who softly explained to me once when I was twelve, how hush money worked, how everyone used it, finally used it properly. He created a new life, far, far away, where I could never see or feel or be hurt by the “sad” Daddy again. ❉ Ina Chadwick writes a column for called “Insider Arts” and designs and produces storytelling and spoken word and writing programs for both amateurs and professionals. She has been producing shows with the Fairfield Theatre Company and the Westport Arts Center since 2009.This memoir first appeared in the online magazine, where her work can be seen regularly.

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“Only after cosmetic surgery can a patient truly determine if they got what they paid for. Great results begin with your ability to evaluate practitioners. Making a choice based primarily on price may be one you regret for years.” –Andrew Kornstein, M.D., F.A.C.S.


HOW TO AVOID THE TEMPTATION OF CHEAP COSMETIC ENHANCEMENT CONSUMERS ARE SAVVY. Whether out of necessity or with an eye for opportunity, the stalled economy has made many of us smarter, happier buyers. We’ve come to expect terrific bargains from housing to technology to designer gowns. The obsession with discounts has permeated every area of our lives but can become a dangerous paradigm when shopping for a cosmetic surgeon. How should you define quality and value when considering aesthetic procedures? Dr. Andrew Kornstein elaborates on the top seven guidelines to use if you really want the most for your money.

1. Understand all providers are not created equal. More and more people in diverse areas of healthcare are involved in aesthetics. Dentists are administering Botox; OB/Gyns are doing tummy tucks; 1 4 2 W E S T O N M A G A Z I N E G R O U P. C O M

aestheticians are doing fillers. Practicing outside one’s specialty is perfectly legal, provided one has a medical license; however, it is up to you, the client, to determine if a provider’s level of expertise can match your expectations. It has been widely touted that the best way to evaluate a surgeon is to be sure he is Board Certified. This is only partially true. “Board Certification” is the first tollgate. The next, is he certified and recognized by one of the 24 specialties in accordance with the American Board of Medical Specialties (ABMS)? If you are seeking cosmetic procedures, certification would most likely be in areas of Dermatology, Otolaryngology, or Plastic Surgery. Having made that point, understand this important credential can also be misleading. There are wide variations in skill, even among Board Certified Plastic Surgeons. Some are super specialized in a particular area of interest that may make

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them a better provider for the specific procedure you desire. Ask, and consider the answer in context.

2. Don’t assume experience and training guarantee aesthetic skill and judgment. Most patients would say experience and training are the most critical factors in judging the competence of a physician, and they would be correct. However, once you take that same physician into the realm of cosmetic enhancement, you are counting upon something that cannot be learned. Visualization and aesthetic judgment are innate gifts. Consider the difference between a builder and an architect; a cook and a chef; a dancer and an artist. All are technically proficient, but few can consistently create on the next level. You want the artist. 3. Know exactly what and who you are seeking. It’s tougher than ever to cut through all the noise associated with cosmetic surgery and aesthetic procedures. Being a hot topic has its drawbacks. Media reports are often inaccurate, and subsequently more misleading than helpful. Well meaning friends and family may insist “their” doctor is the best without regard for the procedure you desire or the chemistry they may have felt that you may not share once you have a consultation. In Manhattan, there are dozens of surgeons to choose from. Fifteen years ago, patients occasionally sought a second opinion—something good physicians always encouraged. Today, it is not uncommon to have patients explore five or more opinions. Fatigue and confusion may lead to the wrong decision. Even after making a decision, patients second guess themselves and are filled with anxiety for not following a referring doctor’s recommendation or best friend’s advice. Be smart and diligent, but keep it simple. Satisfied patients will occasionally leave a surgeon who has served them well. It inspires curiosity as to what patients are looking for, and will they know it when they see it? Unfortunately, most often they come back needing to be fixed. 4. Use chemistry to make the right decision. Don’t discount your intuition. Be aware of the connection (or absence of one) between you and the physician during the consultation. Consider it a first date. Do you feel rushed or relaxed? Listened to or lectured? Does he/she have a strong grasp of what it is you want accomplished and an equally confident recommendation with alternatives? A good sense of what needs to be done? Sometimes, making an appointment for injectables with a surgeon you like prior to committing to surgery can help you get a better feel about the doctor’s approach and your level of trust. If you are interested but unsure, ask for a second date or test drive.

her untouched photos of actual patients. If they are, spend some time analyzing the before and after of the procedure you are considering so you are comfortable with that surgeon’s results. Beware of a book full of Barbie and Ken look-alikes.

6. Don’t depend upon the proverbial silver bullet. It’s fine to get comfortable with Botox, but you cannot count on one solution to correct every condition. Too much Botox used in place of fillers can lead to an aesthetically imbalanced expression. Fillers demand more technical skill and artistry but they deliver the volume where you need it for a more youthful appearance. This dependence upon a universal answer to any condition also includes doctors. Some have a circumscribed level of comfort and will continue to go to the same well without regard for the changing needs of the patient. Eventually the cheeks are too big, the lips appear swollen while other areas age and shrink. You are left with disparity and atrophy. The best surgeons are fluent in a wide variety of both surgical and non-invasive procedures, properly educate their patients and effectively communicate the “why,” “how” and “why not.” Find a doctor who can help you graduate to the next level when necessary. 7. Wait to do what’s right vs. going with the least expensive quote. The reality is most people have less disposable income than they had even a few years ago. If you cannot afford to do what you need to do, don’t compromise on surgeon selection by going with the bargain brand. There are options. You could simply wait until your financial picture is brighter. If you feel good about a particular surgeon, revisit him or her. Maybe there are alternatives that can be tailored to your budget. Do it right vs. selecting a surgeon with whom you are not comfortable, offering a low price and perhaps a poorly chosen procedure. Keep in mind, not every surgeon—no matter how brilliant—will be a “fit” for every patient. If you do your homework and listen to your intuition, odds are you will be happy with your choice. Price may be what you pay, but the cost of the surgery goes well beyond the financial transaction. If cosmetic surgery is a success, the more you live with it, the more you should enjoy it. If not, it’s difficult to hide in the back of the closet along with the other “great deals” that ultimately didn’t bring you the joy you expected. Remember this ancient Chinese proverb when you're choosing a cosmetic surgeon: "A CHEAP PRICE IS A SHORTCUT TO BEING CHEATED." ❉ Andrew Kornstein, M.D., F.A.C.S. is board certified by the American Board of Plastic Surgery and a member of the American

5. Recognize the importance of restoring natural anatomy. One of

Society for Aesthetic Plastic Surgery and Rhinoplasty Society.

the most commonly voiced fears during a consultation is, “I don’t want to look unnatural or 'done', like those people on Fifth Avenue!” Looking older can put you in an aging free fall where you feel out of control. The secret is finding a surgeon who is adept at replacing support in an aesthetically harmonizing, appropriate way. You don’t have to go from photofacials to a full facelift. There are some very compelling ancillary procedures that yield subtle, yet remarkable results. Look carefully at a surgeon’s photo library. Be certain these are his or

He is a pioneer in fat grafting and one of the largest users of

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Allergan injectables, including Botox®. He is on the Advisory Boards for Allergan Medical and Medicis Corp. (Restylane® and Dysport®) Frequently featured in popular periodicals, he also lectures internationally on fat grafting, injectables and secondary rhinoplasty. Dr. Kornstein consults with his patients at his Fifth Avenue offices, and will be available to see patients in Fairfield CT starting in the fall of 2010. 212/987-1300; 203/292-9190.

“If you invest in beauty, it will remain with you all the days of your life.” - Frank LLoyd Wright

“When my friend walked in I couldn’t stop looking at her face. She was radiant and had an incredible smile. After staring at her for a few minutes she then told me she had a facelift with Dr. Kornstein. I had her tell me the whole story. It was exactly what I wanted to hear. A few months later I flew to New York to meet with Dr. Kornstein.” “I am a California girl and had lots of sun exposure and damage in my early years. Fat grafting along with my facelift was one of the BEST decisions I have ever made! It looks incredibly natural and soft while making me look and feel much younger. My daughter hates when people say...’ this is your mother?’’’ “He saw me in a more holistic way and talked to me about his impressions. His perspective was more far sighted and the surgery he performed was both dramatic and subtle. Dramatic because I look like a more beautiful, refined younger women and subtle because nobody who looks at me thinks I did work. I instantly trusted Dr. Kornstein because he didn’t tell me what I wanted to hear. In my opinion he has the precision of a great surgeon and the point of view of a talented artist and architect.” “Friends or colleagues frequently tell me how amazingly well I look, how well rested I seem and how much retirement agrees with me; new acquaintances are amazed to learn that I turned 60. Yet no one has ever asked whether I had surgery because everything looks completely natural.

.... artistry speaks for itself.

Photo by Figuura

andrew n. kornstein, md, facs 1050 5th avenue new york, ny 10028 1 3 7 3 re d d i n g ro a d f a i r f i e l d , c t 0 6 8 2 4 212.987.1300 ny 203.292.9190 ct

a thoughful approach to timeless beauty


The New Building Block by Tom Sherman SOMETIMES IT TAKES A CRISIS TO HELP SHAKE OFF OLD, OUTMODED WAYS OF THINKING AND STIR UP NEW IDEAS. THAT’S CERTAINLY BEEN THE CASE FOR WHOLE OR PERMANENT LIFE INSURANCE OF LATE. IN THE AFTERMATH OF THE GREAT MELTDOWN OF THE GLOBAL FINANCIAL MARKETS, MANY PERSONAL FINANCE EXPERTS HAVE BEGUN TO REEXAMINE HOW WHOLE LIFE COVERAGE NOT ONLY SAFEGUARDS WEALTH BUT CAN ALSO HELP GROW IT OVER TIME. A Portfolio Building Block Some financial advisors now argue that whole life deserves the status of an asset class among the other investment building blocks – stocks or equities, bonds or fixed income investments, money market accounts or cash, annuities and real estate. According to the successful science of combining investments, called ‘Modern Portfolio Theory’, different asset classes or types of investments work together to increase returns and minimize the risk investors incur if one or more financial markets slip. The underlying logic that makes this type of diversification so sensible harkens back to the advice we all heard as toddlers: Don’t keep all of your eggs in one basket. Put into practice, Modern Portfolio Theory recommends spreading your wealth among a variety of sound holdings. Then, whenever one of the asset classes lags or drops, the others are there to contribute gains over time, cushion the blow and reduce risk. Whole life insurance has earned a place among the other instruments for several reasons. It’s the ultimate safety net: It protects your family’s lifestyle in the case of your death. It also grows in value over time and can provide some very important benefits to holders who need cash.

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The Numbers Don’t Lie Upon close examination, the long-term numbers prove whole life’s attributes as a key financial building block – even before the crisis of 2008/2009. Between 1977 and 2006, large company stocks provided investors an actual compounded annual rate of return of 5.2% factoring in investment fees and inflation. Bonds may seem less risky than stocks, but their return was smaller, too. Treasury bonds, anchored on Uncle Sam’s reputation as the most dependable of borrowers, logged a compounded annual real rate of return between 0% and 2% during the same


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30-year stretch, while municipal bonds posted just 1.8%. Here’s the surprise: According to figures tallied by Guardian[1], a whole life policy opened in 1984 would have provided a 5.4% average annual return through the end of 2009.

Small Business Sense There are a number of reasons why whole life deserves consideration in a small business owner’s investment portfolio. First, at a small premium cost, whole life provides the benefit we’ve all come to associate with coverage – a payout that protects survivors in the event that a breadwinner dies. What’s more, the money payable is income tax-free and in some cases estate tax-free as well. Then, over time, a policy’s cash value can grow similar to a fixed income investment with a guaranteed minimum return. The benefits do not stop there. Once they have built up the cash value of a policy, holders can actually use the dividends[2] their coverage generates to pay premiums over time. The cash that collects in a life policy doesn’t have to sit on the sidelines, either. As a store of wealth, a policy’s cash value can function as an important lifeline for small business owners. Think of it as your personal capital reservoir, one that can function as collateral for outside

life policy. For one, you’ll need to investigate your insurer in order to sign on with a solid company for the long haul. Look for a company that is highly rated and which invests its portfolio assets in government-backed investments and solid fixed return holdings. You can investigate the financial standing of a life insurer by looking over ratings compiled by firms such as A.M. Best, which offers up an independent opinion on a company’s ability to meet its obligations to policyholders. You can find Best sheets on insurers at your local library.

A Welcome Change Now that personal finance experts are reevaluating their stand on whole life coverage, it might be a good time for you to rethink your position as well. Thanks to the current recession, we’ve all gotten a wake-up call on neglecting the bigger picture for short-term gains. We may not like the shock, but if we pick up on long-term lessons, the tumult of the last two years may actually work to our benefit. ❉ Tom Sherman is a Financial Advisor and Specialist with Park Avenue Securities & Strategies for Wealth. He is a 17-year resident of Weston with offices in Rye Brook and on Wall St. He can be reached at 914-288-8845 or

THERE ARE A NUMBER OF REASONS WHY WHOLE LIFE DESERVES CONSIDERATION IN A SMALL BUSINESS OWNER’S INVESTMENT PORTFOLIO. financing. It can be the source of a tax-free loan[3]*, an infusion that’s all the more valuable in tight credit times like these. The same store of cash can work for your family, too. It can help fund college tuition, the purchase of a vacation home or primary residence, or cover for emergencies when money is tight.

Term Limits There’s an important footnote to the recent rehabilitation of whole life’s reputation. Over the past 20 years, many investment experts have spent a good deal of energy steering the public to term life insurance as a means to secure whole life’s death benefit at a smaller cost. According to their argument, investors were better served by taking the money they save on whole life premiums and investing the difference in a bull market where stock returns would generate more money over time. There’s one obvious hole to that line of thinking that was exposed in 2008: Bull markets don’t last forever. And there are other drawbacks to term coverage as well. The biggest is the fact that term policies simply don’t accumulate value over time. They provide a death benefit for a set amount of time, but no more. When a policy expires, a holder has nothing to show.

Caveats There are, of course, steps you need to take when purchasing a whole

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This publication is for the purpose of education and information only and is not intended to constitute tax or legal advice. For information on your specific situation, please consult your personal legal or tax advisor. Thomas E. Sherman is a Registered Representative and Financial Advisor of Park Avenue Securities LLC (PAS). Securities products/services and advisory services are offered by PAS, 800 Westchester Avenue, Rye Brook, NY 10573 914-288-8800, a Registered Investment Advisor and broker-dealer. PAS is a member FINRA/SIPC. NY Rosbruch/Harnik, Inc. D/B/A Strategies for Wealth is an Agent of The Guardian Life Insurance Company of America, New York, New York. Footnotes [1] The Guardian Life Insurance Company of America (Guardian), New York, NY [2] Dividends are not guaranteed, and may be declared annually by a company’s Board of Directors. [3] Policy benefits are reduced by any outstanding loans and loan interest. Dividends, if any, are affected by policy loans and loan interest. If the policy lapses, any loans considered gain in the policy may be subject to ordinary income taxes. *Guardian, its subsidiaries, agents or employees do not give tax or legal advice. You should consult your tax or legal advisor regarding your individual situation.

The decisions you make now affect  the rest of your life ... and beyond. 

Your Life.  Your Legacy.    Thomas E. Sherman   Financial Advisor   800 Westchester Avenue, N409  Rye Brook, New York 10573  914.288.8845  Registered Representative and Financial Advisor of Park Avenue Securities LLC (PAS). Securities products/services and advisory services offered through PAS, a registered broker/dealer and investment advisor. Financial Representative, The Guardian Life Insurance Company of America (Guardian), New York, NY. Securities products and services offered through Park Avenue Securities LLC (PAS), 800 Westchester Avenue, N409, Rye Brook, NY 10573. PAS is an indirect, wholly owned subsidiary of The Guardian Life Insurance Company of America, New York, NY. Guardian, its subsidiaries, agents or employees do not give tax or legal advice. You should consult your tax or legal advisor regarding your individual situation. PAS is a member FINRA, SIPC.

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RURAL PALATES Fearless Critic New Haven Brutally honest reviews. By undercover chefs and food nerds.


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The menu at Thali Westport is built around a stunning array of small plates — think of them as “Indian tapas,” — which allow diners to sample and share a variety of tastes, combinations and sensations. “Tell us what you want and how many you’d like,” the simple, oversized sheet declares, allowing regulars to fill in the boxes and turn it in to get the evening rolling. First timers can consult their server, or pow-wow over the myriad tempting selections. The tomato soup, with fresh crushed tomatoes slow simmered with herbs, is like no other tomato soup you’ve tasted, and will have you coming DINING ROOM


R U R A L PA L AT E S back just for this. Other standouts are New Zealand lamb chops served spicy and pan seared, or hand rubbed with habañera chilies and grilled; jumbo lump blue crab with hints of coconut and ginger; crisp curry leafdusted shrimp; and spice-crusted sole steamed in banana leaves. Arugula, red beet and pistachio salad is a nod toward European cuisine, but its secret ingredient of Fenugreek leaf gives it a decidedly exotic twist. A short list of entrees served in traditional portions includes an excellent sea bass seared in the hot tandoor with a side of squash, lentil and truffled basmati rice; and date and walnut grilled chicken breast, with papayapineapple-tomato salsa. Did I mention pepper-crusted filet mignon in a cardamom cream sauce with fingerling fries? That too is a must try. The bar list is long and lovely, as is the popular, fairy light lit bar area. There are plenty of carefully selected wines and serious spirits to go with the piquant menu, or for fun, pick something from the Mumbai Bar Cocktail List: a Tajmopolitan Martini; Bubbly Bangalore, Thali Mary or Calcutta Cooler. Expanding his touch to innovative housemade desserts, chef Chirnomula has created sweet delights such as cardamom crème brulee, lemon grass key lime pie, and caramel mango cheesecake with which to finish a memorable and exhilarating meal. For a culinary experience extraordinaire, join Chef Prasad on one of his yearly food tours to India, where you’ll sample native dishes from Mumbai to Hyderabad, explore exotic markets, meet up with local luminaries, as well as visit renowned sites. Open daily for lunch and dinner. 376 Post Road East, Westport, CT. 203/557-4848; ❉ Restaurants also in New Haven, Ridgefield and New Canaan: 4 Orange Street, New Haven, 203/777-1177. ThaliToo Vegetarian: 65 Broadway, New Haven. 203/776-1600. 296 Ethan Allen Highway, Ridgefield, 203/894-1080. 87 Main Street, New Canaan, 203/972-8332. THALI BAR

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Come Join Us Tuesday Evenings For Wine Appreciation Night !!! 50% Off Bottles Under $100 25% Off Bottles At or Under $100

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Overlooking the Saugatuck River. Look for the blue and yellow awning (near Starbucks).

Rural Palates


Chao Chi Newtown Chef Prasad strikes again. With a whole new kind of restaurant, but the same exacting attention to quality and blow your tastebuds creativity. Chao Chi, located in a beautiful historic tavern with terraces over-

Chao Chi

looking a mill stream, is an American eatery and raw bar. Prasad has tapped young Executive Chef Adam Roytman to oversee the kitchen, and his talent and flair abound. Local ingredients, skilled hands, and imagination combined with classic training make this an outstanding new establishment. Take a country drive, and enjoy a sophisticated and memorable meal. Inventive small plates offer tastings of beets, grapefruit, almonds, and crème fraiche with frisee; cornmeal crusted tuna with avocado, peppers, and cilantro; or grilled squid with potatoes, wax beans and a spicy aioli. Diners can expand their repertoire with entrees such as Long Island duck breast over polenta and chard with a blackberryfoie gras emulsion; or caramelized sea scallops wrapped in gravlax over sweet corn, snap peas and peaches. Nouvelle, and they work. But then there is the excellent and traditional steak frites: grilled hanger steak with garlic butter, hand-cut fries and béarnaise sauce. Why reinvent the wheel? With superb food one would expect no less than outstanding wine, and Sommelier Steve Garrett is passionate about pairing dishes with selections from the wide ranging and well-priced wine list. OK, his real love are the Burgundies, on which he is an expert and from whose collection he will offer you something to make you swoon. Finish your meal with a housemade dessert, such as hot valrhona chocolate cake or fruit-infused panna cotta. Serving lunch and dinner daily. Live music on weekends. 1 Glen Road, Sandy Hook, 203/364-9393;

Tuscan Oven Norwalk We all know appearances can be deceiving. That’s why you have to ignore the Route 7 mass market setup of Tuscan Oven and stop in for

a wonderful, farm fresh meal. So many items of this 18-year, familyrun establishment are house produced: crusty breads, pastas, pesto, all desserts. Others are locally sourced, predominantly from Ambler Farms in Wilton: heirloom tomatoes, beans, zucchini, herbs and seasonal vegetables. And then there are those imported from specialized producers in Italy: virgin olive oils, prosciutto and pancetta, cheeses, wines. Dining here is attentively and enthusiastically overseen by secondgeneration restaurateur Jon Paul Pirraglia (recently returned from his wedding at a winery in Umbria). From the snowy white table linens which are laundered on site, to the extensive wine cellar with selections by the glass, the well trained wait staff to the outdoor fireplaces lit nightly on the terrace, Jon Paul has an eye on it all. And above all comes the food. Uncooked options of tuna tartar with avocado, capers, frisée and fennel; or carpaccio of beef with arugula capers and parmigiano are exceptional. Pasta sauces range from the simple — tomato, mozzarella, basil and olive oil, to the sublime — shrimp, scallops, clams, mussels, and calamari in a rich tomato broth. Thin crust pizzas come

Tuscan Oven directly from the wood-burning oven; bistecca on the grill has a smoky, charbroiled appeal. If there were a neighborhood nearby, this would be the locals’ hangout; since there’s not, drive over and see what makes this one of the longest running restaurant shows in the area. 544 Main Avenue, Norwalk; 203/846-4600;

Aurora Soho, NY Step into Aurora in Soho between the hours of 5 and 7 pm, and you’ll think you’ve walked into an elegant bar in Milan. Aperitivi are being served, and the bar is covered with platters of complimentary hors d’oeuvres to be enjoyed with drinks in a sophisticated, relaxed setting. Italian conversations waft in the air; young, attractive waiters serve an equally attractive clientele. Rustic yet stylish, Aurora continues that theme of authenticity throughout its décor and cuisine. Candlelight, brick walls and exposed beams add to the charm factor. Natural linens grace the wood plank tables; all pastas, breads and desserts are made on the premises with

Bice Palm Beach, FL

fresh, seasonal ingredients. To start, experience Italian specialties such as vitello tonnato: veal tenderloin with a tuna mayonnaise and crispy capers that’s beloved by Northerners in the summer and much tastier then it sounds; fave e ricotta, imported sheep milk ricotta and fresh fava bean salad with lemon and mint; or polipo, grilled octopus with crushed potato salad. A delicate prosecco and lemon zest risotto incorporates chunks of Maine lobster; saffron flavored tagliatelle are studded with rock shrimp and hot peppers; while ricotta ravioli are tossed with tomatoes, zucchini squash blossoms and marjoram. Secondi range from seared scallops with pea purée, mushrooms and pea shoots; to grilled lamb chops with rosemary potatoes and roasted artichokes. For dessert, L’affogato is a coffee lovers’ delight: vanilla, chocolate and hazelnut truffle ice cream “drowned” in a shot of espresso. The seasonal, warm cherry and almond tartelette with cherry sauce and a side of vanilla ice cream is also not to be missed. The restaurant offers a $25 prix fixe menu for lunch, and is open daily for lunch and dinner. 510 Broome Street, NYC. 212/334-9020;www.

It’s nice to know that some things never change. Economies may rise and fall, but Worth Avenue is still Worth Avenue, and Bice is still the place to dine on it, to see and be seen, to make a little noise. Walk by the Bentleys outside, vintage or otherwise, and enter the restaurant either through its packed courtyard with al fresco dining, or through the wide wooden front doors giving onto the generously sized dining room. Dress well and expect to be treated well, whether you’re a regular or not. And don’t be afraid to bring the kids, if you’re not afraid of a pricey family meal. The ample menu includes a host of Aurora Italian favorites with which to start, such as prosciutto with melon; fried calamari, zucchini and mushrooms with a spicy Bice tomato dip; beef carpaccio with arugola salad and shaved parmesan; and smoked salmon with chopped onions and capers. Its okay to dig into dishes such as linguini with clams, garlic, olive oil, onions and crushed red pepper if you can do it with style; or to roll up your sleeves for a 14 oz. grilled veal chop with sautéed broccoli rabe and veal jus. In the mood for something rich? Ricotta cheesecake with aged balsamic and strawberry sauce is lovely, as are the warm chocolate cake with amaretto ice cream, or pear poached in mixed citrus and filled with mascarpone cream. Enjoy a convivial setting, consistently good food and great people watching lunch through dinner, and long into the night at the popular bar. 313 Worth Ave., Palm Beach, FL. 561/835-1600. ❉

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Lexington Square Cafe

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The Pearl Restaurant Group family of restaurants Morgans Fish House

Rye Grill and Bar Rye, NY 914-967-0332

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Ten Twenty Post Darien, CT 203-655-1020

The Tap House Tuckahoe, NY 914-337-6941

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Mt. Kisco, NY 914-244-3663

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The Pearl Restaurant Group – an eclectic group of restaurants each with its own menu, style and personality. At its core, the Pearl Restaurant Group philosophy is service, service, service - it’s all about our guests! We are in the restaurant business because we love it and strive to make every dining experience a great one! We look forward to seeing you soon at one of our locations. • (914) 921-8132 •

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tech amenities you would expect, like high-speed Internet access, WiFi, Plasma and LCD televisions, ipod docking stations, a stocked bar and Ionic breeze machines. A third of the guest rooms have balconies, and many feature bay windows. The ultimate crib is the Duplex Penthouse, 1,400 sq. ft. of luxury including 30-foot floor-to-ceiling windows, a step out balcony with daz-

Meat-Packing District HOTEL GANSEVOORT A century ago, raw beef ruled the streets of Manhattan’s Meatpacking District, the commercial warehouses and loading docks along the Hudson River. Strolling the now fashionable neighborhood, it’s not hard to imagine the clamor of the 250 slaughter houses and packing plants that flourished there in the late 1800’s. Eventually the neighborhood fell prey to obscurity, and by the 1980’s it was a refuge for drug dealers, prostitution and Mafia dealings. Fortunately, due to the lobbying efforts of the Greenwich Village Society for Historic Preservation, the New York City Landmarks Preservation Commission established the Gansevoort Market Historic District. Rather than being torn down and replaced with sky-rises, the buildings were restored. In 2007, the area that is now a world of designer boutiques, hip restaurants and a flourishing nightlife was listed on the National Register of Historic Places. Whether you are a history buff or a fashionista, a visit to the Meatpacking District is a must. For the ultimate experience, stay at the hotel that was rated one of the “World’s Top 10 Hippest Hotels” by, Hotel Gansevoort. The hotel’s striking metallic façade combines the building’s historic architecture with modern additions; a sweeping canopy, shiny glass balconies and soaring glass columns. The interior is glamorous, yet understated, like the lobby staff, dressed in the Hugo Boss fashions of the upcoming season. The 187 guest rooms boast nine foot high ceilings and all the hi-

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zling river views, an oversized working fireplace, two luxurious bathrooms, a master bathroom with separate steam shower and Jacuzzi bath, custom-designed furniture, and a custom pool table. In Manhattan, it’s not difficult to find 400-thread count sheets and goose down pillows, but a 45-foot heated roof-top pool with underwater music and techno lighting. The pool is open 365 days a year from 7am to 11pm. The glass roof comes off for the summer season and the views are unbeatable. Stay for a drink at Plunge Rooftop Bar and Lounge — it’s the perfect way to take in the sunset over the Hudson River. Those who like to stay fit while they travel can check out the hotel spa, Exhale, known for its transformational Core Fusion R exercise programs and its unique restorative spa therapies. The wellbar serves healthy snacks and shakes. Hotel Gansevoort is family friendly too; babies enjoy a complimentary crib, diapers and organic bath amenities. At check-in, kids receive a lunch box filled with treats, the use of a Nintendo Wii and a children’s room service menu. Even Fido gets a personalized “I’m staying at Hotel Gansevoort” collar tag, and free treats. Now that’s something to wag about! 18 Ninth Avenue at 13th Street, New York, NY. 212/206-6700;

ASIATE MANDARIN ORIENTAL NEW YORK Twenty years ago, the vacated New York Coliseum at Columbus Circle on Manhattan’s West Side was a dismal spot. Today, native New Yorkers and tourists alike enjoy the fashionable stores at what is now the thriving Time Warner Center at Columbus Circle. There’s another reason to head to Columbus Circle— Asiate— the restaurant located on the 35th floor of the chic Mandarin Oriental hotel. For an unforgettable evening, take a special someone to Asiate and enjoy spectacular views and outstanding ASIATE

BICE Italian restaurants come and go in New York City, but the enormously popular Bice, on Manhattan’s Upper East Side, has stood the test of time. The Bice story started in 1926 when Beatrice Ruggeri of Milan took her classic Italian cooking on the road with her namesake restaurant; today, Bice boasts over 50 locations throughout the world. The New York restaurant is the American flagship locale. Internationally renowned designer Adam Tihany is responsible for the striking décor. Known as the place to see and be seen, Bice attracts a celebrity crowd, and you’re likely to rub shoulders with the likes of Jack Nicholson, Hillary and Bill, or Saudi Prince Abdullah, as you delight in the simple, classic cuisine. Cold starters include tuna tartare, piled high with avocado, capers, red onion, greens and lemon dressing; and beef carpaccio, served with fresh arugula, hearts of palm, and thinly sliced parmesan. Pasta dishes made in-house, like spaghetti alle vongole veraci, spaghetti pasta with baby Manila clams; and tagiolini with lobster, wild mushrooms, cherry tomatoes and lobster reduction, are heavenly. On a lighter note, the branzino is seared and set atop green lentils cooked with finely chopped vegetables. The legendary osso bucca con salsa ai


dining in very high style. The experience begins when you enter the hotel’s stylish lobby on West 60th street. Take a moment to admire the magnificent ceiling sculpture by Dale Chihuly and Waterford. In the 35th floor lobby, a second impressive Chihuly creation accentuates the space.The furnishings are serene and the views are breathtaking. A glass enclosed wall of wines at the entrance displays a remarkable collection of old and special vintages. Inviting banquettes line the perimeter of the dining area and are slightly elevated, which, along with floor to ceiling widows, allows every table unparalleled views of Central Park and the Manhattan skyline. Contemporary cuisine with Asian and French influences is as inspiring as the view. Asiate’s Brandon Kida, Chef de Cuisine, is a graduate of the world-renown CIA in Hyde Park, NY, who has worked at New York City’s Lutèce and Los Angeles’ L’Orangerie and Bastide. The tasting menu, which changes with the seasons, included dishes such as Raw, a selection of five raw tastings; followed by Buckwheat and Eggs, soba noodles, osetra caviar, and uni cream. The Dover Sole, served with sautéed Asian vegetables, mushroom-gingerinfused consommé; and the lobster, served with white polenta, salsify, and kaffir reduction, are some of the other eight delectable selections that night. I highly recommend the wine pairings by sommelier Annie Turso. 80 Columbus Circle at 60th Street, New York, NY. 212/805-8881;

funghi, is a delicately braised veal shank prepared with parmesan risotto and porcini mushroom truffle sauce. Leave room for the irresistible desserts, such as cioccolatissimo fondente — warm, soft-centered chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream; and the sublime Napoleone dell Bice. After one taste, you’ll understand why this timeless restaurant is also one of New York’s most loved. 7 East 54th Street, New York, NY. 212/688-1999;



Lincoln Center Theatre’s world premiere of the new musical, Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown. Book by Jeffrey Lane, music and lyrics by David Yazbek, directed by Bartlett Sher. Previews beginning Saturday, October 2 at 8pm. Opening night-Thursday, November 4 at 6:45pm. On Broadway at the Belasco Theatre (111 W. 44 Street). Based on Pedro Almodóvar’s internationally acclaimed 1988 film, Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown is set in late 20th-century Madrid and tells the story of the intertwining lives of a group of women (Sherie Rene Scott, de’Adre Aziza, Nikka Graff Lanzarone, Patti LuPone) whose relationships with men lead to a tumultuous 48 hours of love, confusion and passion. Tickets available through Telecharge. 800/4327250 or 212/239-6200, Driving Miss Daisy. Tony Award-winners James Earl Jones and Vanessa Redgrave return to Broadway this fall to star opposite one another in Alfred Uhry‘s Pulitzer Prizewinning play, Driving Miss Daisy. Directed by David Esbjornson, performances begin on October 7, 2010, at the John Golden Theatre (252 West 45th Street), with an official opening on Monday, October 25th. Weston’s Alfred Uhry is distinguished as the only American playwright to have won a Pulitzer Prize, an Academy Award and two Tony Awards. Mr. Uhry‘s classic play is a timeless, searing, funny, and ultimately hopeful meditation on race relations in America, told through the complex relationship between two of popular culture‘s most enduring characters. When Daisy Werthan, a widowed, 72-year-old Jewish woman living in mid-century Atlanta is deemed too old to drive, her son hires Hoke Colburn, an African-American man, to serve as her chauffeur. What begins as a troubled and hostile pairing, soon blossoms into a profound, life-altering friendship that transcends all the societal boundaries placed between them. Tickets available through Telecharge. 800/432-7250 or 212/239-6200;

KING TUT NYC, RETURN OF THE KING The King Tut exhibition: Tutankhamun and the Golden Age of the Pharaohs is currently on view at the Discovery Times Square Exposition through Jan. 2, 2011, marking the first time a collection of treasures from the young pharaoh’s tomb has visited the city since the groundbreaking 1979 exhibition that attracted 1.8 million visitors in New York. This National Geographic exhibition contains more than twice the number of artifacts shown previously, with more than 130 objects of exceptional craftsmanship and beauty that

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provide insight into the daily life and royal burial practices of the 18th Dynasty. Fifty of the artifacts are from Tutankhamun’s tomb, only a handful of which were part of the 1979 exhibition, and an additional 80 objects come from the tombs of his ancestors and other high-ranking figures of his time. Discovery Times Square Exposition is located at 226 West 44th Street (between Broadway and 8th Avenues) directly across from Shubert Alley. Avoid the lines and reserve advance tickets at ❉

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Like a Rolling Stone

SUNDANCE Film Festival Park City, Utah BY DEBBIE SILVER mentary, dramatic, and short films, and world premieres. There are live music performances, panel discussions with leading filmmakers and industry figures, and cutting-edge media installations. January 20-30, 2011 marks the 26th year of the ten day festival. Film screenings begin each morning at 8 am and end after midnight. When your partner hits the slopes for first tracks at 8:30 a.m. you can be at a screening of a world premiere documentary. Ticket packages can be purchased at beginning in the fall and single tickets can be purchased online in January. As you read through descriptions of 200 films, it’s difficult to select which films to see a month or two ahead of time. Once you get to the festival you can exchange tickets for a $2.00 fee at the main ticket office. During the ten day festival the slopes are quiet –a skier’s nirvana. Best time to arrive is after the opening weekend when the celebrity chaos wanes. The solitude of the slopes can be savored at the area’s three ski resorts: Deer Valley, Park City and the Canyons. At the end of the ski day reconnect with your partner for après ski and attend an international film premiere or two. Regardless of the celebrity sightings, the festival is very low-key and the focus is on the creative process. The director of the film is introduced at the beginning of each screening and a Q and A follows. Festival goers come away with a genuine appreciation for the years it takes to bring a film to the screen and how grateful the film community is for the Sundance Film Festival’s dedication to independent film making.

The Stein Eriksen Lodge


vs. the slopes tug of war. Sound familiar? If you’re a skier and your spouse isn’t, planning a winter vacation can present a black diamond challenge. While skiers celebrate the winter, nonskiers seek an equally thrilling experience. The Sundance Film Festival held annually in January in Park City, Utah is an ideal way for skiers and non-skiers to share an exhilarating winter getaway. Each year the Sundance Film Festival selects 200 films for exhibition from more than 9,000 submissions. Screenings are held in Park City, Salt Lake City, Ogden, and Sundance, Utah. It’s a ten-day program of docu-

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Where to stay during the festival? The Stein Eriksen Lodge, a Forbes FiveStar, AAA Five Diamond resort set mid-mountain at Deer Valley. Norwegian gold medal winner Stein Eriksen is the founder and host of the Lodge and Director of Skiing for Deer Valley Resort. When you ski Deer Valley, you’re treated like a guest of the mountain. The Deer Valley staff welcome skiers upon arrival and offer assistance in unloading skis and answering questions. To insure the utmost comfort, the mountain limits the number of skiers and no snowboards are allowed. The Stein Eriksen Lodge is a ski-in, ski-out luxury lodge. The suites are heavenly, with pillow-topped beds covered with plump duvets, soaking tub, fireplace, plasma TVs, and complimentary wireless. Stein Eriksen Lodge also has two- to five bedroom condos perfect for a year round

every half hour until 11:00 p.m. This is an invaluable amenity during the Sundance Festival. The hotel shuttle will drive guests to Main Street or any of the festival venues and guests can call to arrange to be picked up after dinner or a screening. Park City offers free public buses and the festival has a shuttle bus between venues. But, it is far more comfortable and inexpensive to navigate the festival as a guest at Stein Eriksen in Deer Valley than having to take buses or taxis in Park City. Most Park City restaurants offer a limited, expensive, prix-fixe menu during Sundance. Reservations are difficult to come by and must be made well in advance. Guests at Stein Eriksen have the luxury of being able to dine at one of the premier restaurants with a slopeside view, just steps from their room. The Glitretind restaurant at Stein Eriksen is a favorite for celebrity private dinner parties during the festival. Open for breakfast, lunch, dinner and Sunday brunch, the Glitretind is home to the lavish Skier’s Buffet, complimentary to hotel guests. A member of Preferred Hotels & Resorts, 800/453-1302;

Other Notable Dining


multi-generational destination. Concierge services FIRESIDE DINING can arrange airport transfers, childcare, grocery shopping, and family activities. Service at Stein Eriksen is exceptional. The staff is cheerful and accommodating. The Lodge’s ski valets are like snow angels. They carry your skis, heat them, and lay your skis on the mountain for you. At the end of the day, the ski valet awaits your return with a cup of hot chocolate. Après ski festivities take place in the Troll Hallen Lounge, with live music and a roaring fireplace. The Spa at Stein Eriksen has recently expanded to an impressive 20,000 square feet. The new spa has 16 treatment rooms with separate men’s and women’s relaxation rooms that lead to a steam room, sauna, and whirlpool and plunge pools. The spa also includes two Vichy wet treatment rooms and two couple's treatment rooms, complete with private showers and tubs and a shared private relaxation suite with a fireplace. Natural elements native to Utah are the ingredients of the spa’s exclusive treatments. Stein Body Polish combines cedar and sage and salt crystals from the Great Salt Lake and honey butter is used to combat altitude dryness. The Nordic Experience Facial and Alpine Glow body wrap reawaken tired skin and the Après Ski Muscle Strain Therapy and Soak and the Ski and Hiker Boot Relief soothe fatigued muscles. The fitness room offers a slopeside view with a wide array of state-of-the-art equipment. Outdoors is the spa’s beautiful, heated, year-round pool, whirlpool and pool deck fireplace. The Lodge offers complimentary shuttle service to Park City leaving

Deer Valley Resort’s ten restaurants have redefined ski resort dining. Rated #1 in food and beverage by the readers of SKI magazine and by the Zagat Restaurant Guide year after year, Deer Valley Resort has four evening restaurants to choose from: The Seafood Buffet, Fireside Dining, The Mariposa and Royal Street Café. Fireside Dining is an alpine dining adventure. You can arrive by horsedrawn sleigh or on snowshoes. Four courses are served from five majestic stone fireplaces. To begin: a roaring fire melts Swiss raclette cheese onto a plate. Move on to select from a station of cured Italian and Swiss meats, freshly baked baguettes and condiments including housemade mustards and chutneys. The next fireplace offers simmering stews and fricassées made of veal, venison, chicken, or beef short ribs,served with hand-grated, crisp, buttery potato rösti. Another fireplace serves roast leg of lamb brushed with fresh herbs accompanied by polenta or three-onion risotto. For the finale, the dessert fireplace: warm chocolate, caramel and white chocolate fondues are poured into individual pots alongside a table of dipping possibilities: strawberries, bananas, apples, dried apricots, cinnamon pound cake and almond biscotti. It’s too wonderful for words! Open Wednesday, Thursday and Friday evenings from 6 to 9 p.m. In the evenings, Snow Park Lodge is transformed into the Seafood Buffet. Open during the winter ski season Monday through Saturday, from 6:30 to 9 p.m., highlights from the Seafood Buffet include mountains of fresh Dungeness and Pillion crab legs, lobster layered with mango salsa, and skillet-seared Pacific yellow fin tuna with a wasabi cream. For landlubbers, there are also plenty of choices, like cilantro lime glazed baby back ribs and cherry glazed Muscovy duck breasts. 800/424-DEER;

Like a Rolling Stone HOTEL PARK CITY

THE MUSIC TAXI When you arrive at the Salt Lake City airport for the Sundance Film Festival why not begin your creative journey with an airport transfer to Park City in Zafod Beatlebrox’s Music Taxi. The self-named Zafod was inspired by “Zaphod Beeblebrox’ of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams. He’s a performance artist and metal sculptor with “a personal vendetta against boredom.” The birth of the music taxi: One night in "Taxiland" Zafod looked around and thought, "There's gotta be something better than this." He added a string of Christmas lights inside the van, and that night passengers broke into spontaneous song. “First year I organized a live performer in the taxi every night, but people were much more interested in performing themselves.” As they cruised Main Street in Park City, couple after couple jumped on board. Pretty soon there was a party of perfect strangers belting out tunes. The Music Taxi operates several vans with full sound systems, karaoke, microphone and mirrored disco ball. If you find a man’s leg in a dress shoe sitting on the passenger seat of one of the vans, Zafod will explain the history behind the “Shrine to Lost Soles’: A man’s shoe was left behind in the van six years ago. Zafod expected to hear from the missing shoe’s owner but was never contacted. “It wasn’t until Sundance that I was told it was an Armani.” Zafod the artist created a leg for the shoe, placed it on the passenger’s seat and titled the work “Shrine to Lost Soles.” The Music Taxi vans rock with music unto the wee hours of the morning, driving to all Park City or Salt Lake destinations. Zafod also operates regular taxis as well. The Music Taxi’s rates are cheaper than other airport transfers and the ride is far more engaging. 435/649-6496;

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Hotel Park City A member of Leading Small Hotels of the World, Hotel Park City is a sophisticated luxury hotel in downtown Park City. Park City is only 35 minutes from the airport so guests can ski, mountain bike, or tee off the morning they arrive! Priority tee times are available for hotel guests. For skiers, the hotel offers a complimentary ski shuttle to Park City’s three ski resorts: Deer Valley, Park City and The Canyons. Hotel Park City is set on the 18 hole Park City Golf Club at the base of Park City Mountain resort. The lobby lounge’s floor-to-ceiling windows reveal the magnificent four-season setting, perfect for a wedding. The view is hypnotic. If you’re here during Sundance, it’s so peaceful watching Nordic cross country skiers glide by, you could lose track of time and miss a screening. Hotel Park City is an all-suite hotel. Each guest room features a fireplace, kitchenette or full sized kitchen, separate living room, washer & dryer, jetted bathtub with separate shower and private patio with golf, pool or mountain views. The hotel has built new cottage accommodations that range from 650 -1500 square feet and are located on the golf course and cross-country course, just 130 yards from the new Silver Star ski lift. There’s a year-round outdoor heated pool and hot tub, a 10,000 square foot spa, health club and a movement studio offering complimentary daily yoga, Pilates and fitness classes. Hotel Park City is located just minutes from Main Street’s shops and restaurants. One of Park City’s best restaurants is right in the hotel, Ruth’s Chris Steak House, renowned for its steaks, seafood, unforgettable desserts and award-winning wine list. For casual allday dining there’s Bandannas Grill & Bar. 888/999-0098;

TELLURIDE By Rich Silver When your ski vacation begins with two flights and an hour and a half drive, you find yourself thinking “This better be worth it.” But from the moment you arrive in Telluride and are captivated by the impossibly beautiful scenery, the thought never occurs to you again. Nestled in a box canyon in the spectacular San Juan Mountains of southwestern Colorado,

is a serious ski mountain—so pay attention” and he wasn’t kidding! The ski-in/ski-out Mountain Village, with its alpine feel and abundance of shops, cafes, restaurants and lodging is connected to the town of Telluride by a free gondola. Guests can stay in town and ride up to ski or stay at the mountain and come down to stroll the town or have dinner in one of the many excellent restaurants. For a special lunch on the mountain try the European style wine bar, Alpino Vino, serving artisanal cheeses, tantalizing antipasto plates and of course, fine wines. You’ll feel like you are in the Alps, but try not to get too carried away because skiing after “lunch” just might take some special skills. For dinner, Allred’s offers fine dining with jaw dropping views.




Telluride is a picture postcard come to life. Charming Victorian buildings, restaurants and art galleries line the streets of this historic “old west” town. The feeling is friendly and inviting and you can actually sense that residents feel lucky to call Telluride home. Everywhere you turn, amazing snow-capped peaks surround you, beckoning to be explored. Telluride Ski Resort has 2000 acres of world class skiing for all levels. For experts, there is plenty of deep powder, moguls and steeps. Intermediates will love the long cruisers and corduroy from the top of the mountain, like the aptly named “See Forever.” For beginners, there is an excellent learning area and ski school, and the terrain parks are great for families with snowboarders. For thrill seekers, new terrain has opened in Revelation Bowl and The Gold Hill Chutes and guided backcountry access and heli-skiing are available for the extreme experience. The best advice overheard from a local — “This

Recently opened in the heart of the mountain village, the Capella Telluride Hotel offers mountain luxury and exceptional personal service in a wonderful ski-in/ski-out location. Capella Personal Assistants contact guests prior to arrival and remain on call during their stay. With an insider’s knowledge, the Personal Assistant can easily make all the arrangements to make your vacation a success. The Capella is a boutique hotel — its design is sophisticated yet cozy as a mountain chalet should be. The 100 guestrooms and 60 residence units are casually elegant with all the expected amenities. After a long day on the slopes, you can rejuvenate at the full service Spa at Capella, or relax with a hot cocoa on the oversized couches in the Capella Living Room, a great place to read, have a glass of wine and mingle. Other amenities include a ski valet service, fitness center featuring an indoor/outdoor pool, meeting and banquet facilities, ice skating rink and a kids’ club where younger guests can have a place of their own to hangout while parents ski or enjoy a private dinner. Hotel restaurants include fine dining with locally inspired touches at Onyx; the casual, bistro style Gray Jay Café; or slide into a cozy pair of slippers provided at the entrance to the Suede Bar where you can grab a light bite or meet friends over cocktails and local brews. You often hear that people come to Colorado for the winters but stay for the summers, and Telluride is no exception. In warm weather the ski trails are transformed into biking, hiking and horseback riding trails. Fly-fishing, river rafting, kayaking and golf (at 9300 ft above sea level) are also favorite summer and fall activities. Telluride is also home to more than 30 festivals celebrating wine, food, art, film and music. There’s even a Nothing Fest just for fun. Is it Telluride’s non–stop activity, the altitude or natural beauty that takes your breath away? Very possibly, it’s all three.;


Like a Rolling Stone Santa Barbara restaurants are renowned for their creative spins on the bounty from local farms and waters. Olio e Limone is a Santa Barbara By Carly Silver favorite, owned by husband and wife team Alberto and Elaine Morello. Serving authentic Italian fare with a flare, specialties include Timballo di You don’t have to go abroad to vacation on the Riviera. Santa Barbara, Melanzane con Puree di Pomodoro— eggplant soufflé with a goat cheese California, known as “The American Riviera,” has an allure all its own. center served with a fresh tomato-basil sauce; Ravioli d’Anatra ai Funghi Santa Barbara is refined yet relaxed, with the best of all worlds: the Porcini— a homemade duck ravioli with a porcini mushroom sauce; and Pacific, mountains, art, architecture, spas, a film festival, shopping, the Tagliata di Bue con Rucola e Tortino di Patate —sliced beef tenderloin and offerings for gourmets and oenophiles. Planning a trip is simple; the over a thin potato tart with arugula, shaved parmesan and truffle oil. city has a comprehensive website with spur of the moment savings Delizioso! Olio Pizzeria Enotecca and Bar just opened next door. 17 West packages. Victoria Street, Santa Barbara. 805/899-2699; The Cheshire Cat Bed and Breakfast Inn is a charming place to stay in All the elements come together at Elements Santa Barbara. Christine Dunstan is Restaurant and Bar. What an enticing menu! Crispy the owner of the inn, which is comSkin Arctic Char is served with local cherry tomatoes, prised of a cluster of houses built in roasted fingerling potatoes, tomatillos, smoked shalthe 1890s. Originally from Cheshire, lots and an avocado salsa verde vinaigrette; Maple England, Christine has recreated the Leaf Farms Duck Breast with house made duck feel of a traditional English bed and sausage, potato puree, braised fennel, arugula and breakfast in California. The inn is clementines; and Whole Roasted Game with rapini, named for her hometown and one of mint couscous, and feta cheese. 129 East Anapamu her favorite childhood stories, Alice in Street, Santa Barbara. 805/884-9218 Wonderland. Most of the rooms’ www.elementsrestaurant themes and names hail from the Lewis So much to see, so much to do: The Downtown Urban Carroll tale: White Rabbit, Tweedledee, Wine Trail is a convenient way to taste and tour eight winerTweedledum, and Dormouse. The luxies at their downtown tasting rooms. History buffs will urious Corner House has the Cheshire appreciate the Mission Santa Barbara, a meticulously preCat Suite, with a king-size bed and a served Catholic mission that includes clerical vestments, small Jacuzzi. Peppered with antiques replicas of living quarters, and a beautiful chapel. Move on brought over from England by to the Museum of Natural History; its Ty Warner Aquatic Dunstan’s father, the Cheshire Cat has SANTA BARBARA PHOTO BY NIK WHEELER Center has foot-long sharks, while the Gladwin Planetarium a cozy feel reminiscent of northern allows visitors to scan the skies for celestial sights. Rent a bike at one of THE CHESHIRE CAT BED AND BREAKFAST INN several local shops and cycle by one of the numerous beautiful beaches. The "Red Tile Walking Tour" offers an excellent introduction to downtown Santa Barbara's historic arts district. Begin at the Santa Barbara County Courthouse, a graceful 1929 example of Spanish-Moorish architecture surrounded by meticulously landscaped sunken gardens.The spectacular view from atop the 80-foot clock tower features the iconic American Riviera panorama of Santa Barbara's red-tile roofs, the mountains, and the sea. Next, cross the street to the Santa Barbara Museum of Art, home to an impressive collection of fine art, including the only intact mural in the United States by world-renowned Mexican artist David Alfaro Siqueiros. Fall is a wonderful time to explore the vineyards, farms, markets and restaurants of Santa Barbara. It’s celebration season, the grapes are being harvested and there are festivals aplenty!


In September: Old Town Harvest Festival: a partnership of local growers and restaurants. California Organic Festival: 80+ booths focusing on organics and gardening. England. Continental breakfast is served daily in the main house. Each room is uniquely designed with a lovely view of Santa Barbara. Three individual cottages are also available for monthly rentals. 36 W. Valerio Street. Santa Barbara, 805/569-1610

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In October: Celebration of Harvest: 60+ local wineries, music, a silent auction, and food. Autumn Arts Grapes & Grains Festival: 20+ wineries, 15+ breweries, food, and art.

BOSTON By Paula Koffsky

The Ritz-Carlton Boston Common Boston, with its rich history, world-renowned museums, prestigious colleges and proximity to sun-drenched seashores and evergreen covered mountains, is the prefect pleasure spot. And there is no hotel more luxurious than the RitzCarlton, Boston Common in which to lay your head when traveling to this metropolitan mecca. Awarded the AAA FourDiamond distinction nine years in a row, the newly renovated Ritz Carlton Boston Common is synonymous with style, class and luxury. The Ritz-Carlton, Boston Common is ideally located in Boston’s “Ladder District,” the heart of the theatre and financial district and a stone’s throw from famed Faneuil Hall Marketplace as well as the

designer shops, boutiques and art galleries of the Back Bay. The sprawling Ritz-Carlton complex, made up of the Hotel and the Ritz Carlton Towers, offers its visitors every amenity desired. The Sports Club/LA is a 100,000 square foot, world-class mega sports and fitness center with a turquoise-colored lap pool, parquet floored bas-

ketball court and glass encased squash courts. After a good sweat, pamper yourself at the full service spa and salon. Within the complex is the Loews Theatre Cineplex; what with nineteen screens, you’ll have choices galore. Located on the hotel’s street level is Jer-Ne Restaurant & Bar, a local favorite. The Gallery, in the hotel lobby, offers light fare, cocktails and traditional afternoon tea on weekends. Visitors can sip a cocktail THE RITZ-CARLTON BOSTON COMMON GALLERY

and peruse some of the hotel’s $1 million collection of contemporary art by noted New England artists. The artwork is also displayed throughout the hotel, adding a distinct regional flavor. For business travelers, the hotel’s seven meeting rooms accommodate groups from ten to 350 people. The sumptuous rooms and suites offer the best in amenities, like Frette Italian linens, feather beds, marble baths, Bang & Olufsen sound systems and the services of various Butlers should you need one: a Technology Butler, a CD Butler and a Bath Butler. Whether for business or pleasure, the Ritz-Carlton, Boston Common is an urban sanctuary located in an energizing historic district. NOTE: Christmas is an especially enchanting time to visit and take part in the Holiday Events in the hotel’s Grand Ballroom. At the Nutcracker Brunch, members of the Boston Ballet charm guests over a delicious buffet. For the Sugar Plum Tea, the ballroom is transformed into a magical dreamland where ballet performers lead little ones in sing-a-longs and holiday activities. And what adult wouldn’t enjoy the Nutcracker Sweets and Champagne Flights of Fancy, an evening of luscious chocolates and Moët & Chandon? 10 Avery Street, Boston, MA. 617/574-7100;

Like a Rolling Stone Notable Dining O YA RESTAURANT If you want a suggestion about Boston’s culinary scene, ask Evan, the exceedingly knowledgeable concierge at the Ritz-Carlton, Boston Common. He recommended O Ya, as the answer to my sushi craving.

BINA OSTERIA Sister and brother team Azita Bina-Seibel and Babak Binah have struck gold once again with their third successful restaurant, Bina Osteria, located in Boston’s Downtown Crossing neighborhood. With an eye towards creating a friendly neighborhood restaurant, Azita and Babak kept the décor simple and welcoming; the food is easy to love too. Start with a Stuzzicare, “to whet the appetite,” such as sautéed shrimp with lentils, onions and homemade pancetta, or a pizzetta with fresh tomatoes, oregano, garlic and arugula. Pastas like the spaghetti alla carbonara, and Pappardelle with tuna, red pepper cream, black olives and capers, are favorites. The Red Snapper Cartoccio is baked with potato, spinach, tomato, and capers in a paper pocket. For dessert try the crème caramel served with a pistachio cookie. Looking for a quick take away sandwich or culinary gift? Head over to Bina Alimentari next door, a European-style specialty shop offering house baked breads, pastries, gelati, pastas and prepared meals. They also sell a superb selection of artisanal wines. 581 Washington Street, Boston, MA. 671/956-0888;



From his description, I knew O Ya was going to be a different kind of sushi experience. After my first bite, I was smitten! The nondescript front door and the rustic brick walls and exposed rough beams belie the extraordinary culinary dishes that are created here; each selection is a work of art. Nigiri, the first plates, include dishes like Fried Kumamoto Oyster with yuzu kosho aioli, finished with a dollop of squid ink bubbles. The Wild Santa Barbara Spot Prawn with garlic butter, white soy, and preserved yuzu is a mouthful of deliciously delicate and intricate flavors. Sashimi selections such as Hamachi Tartare with a ginger verjus sauce, and spiced chile oil and Wild Bluefin Tuna Tataki with smoky pickled onion, and truffle oil are not to be missed. The “truffles & eggs” section served up a Tamago Omelette “Roll” with dashi sauce, summer truffles, robiola cheese, and chives — out of this world! Desserts are equally enticing. The Wild Berry crunch sake sabayon, soy milk mascarpone crème was the perfect ending to an exceptional meal. 9 East Street, Boston, MA. 617/654-9900;

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LONG WEEKEND IN LONDON Planning a weekend getaway? How about a long weekend in London! It’s an easy flight and a weekend carry-on bag away. The Heathrow Express will have you in the center of town in 15 minutes. Whether it’s your first time or your tenth, check www.visitlon- for all the latest on London hotels, restaurants, maps, and events. Why not veer off the tourist track on your long weekend? Explore London’s East End and the bohemian weekend markets, galleries and shops at Brick Lane and Spitalfields.; The Tate Modern at Bankside is London’s much talked about contemporary art gallery. The Tate Modern restaurant on Level 7 has an unforgettable view of the Thames River and serves lunch and dinner. Also, at Bankside —the Menier Chocolate Factory. Built in 1870, this unique space now comprises a restaurant and bar, rehearsal room and 150 seat theatre. The recent Broadway revivals of Sunday in the Park with George, La Cage Aux Folles and A Little Night Music originated at the Menier Chocolate Factory. Renowned director, Trevor Nunn, returns to the Chocolate Factory to direct the first major London revival of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Aspects of Love.

Haymarket Hotel



Where to stay? The Haymarket Hotel is the latest of Kit and Tim Kemp’s eclectic collection of London boutique hotels. You may have heard the buzz about their premiere U.S. property, The Crosby Hotel in Soho. The Haymarket Hotel is adjacent to the Haymarket Theatre Royal and opposite Her Majesty's Theatre; a perfect location for a night at the theatre. Kit Kemp is the award-winning designer of the Firmdale collection. Each of the Firmdale boutique hotels is like a textile fantasyland. You can’t help but touch the walls and chairs to feel the fabrics; they are a knockout. The Haymarket is designed like a chic game of Clue: The Conservatory, The Library, and the elegant Shooting Gallery. Brumus is the hotel’s restaurant overlooking St. James Place: open all day, an ideal spot for a pre-theatre dinner. The hotel has 50 spacious and sumptuous bedrooms and suites as

Like a Rolling Stone THE STAFFORD LONDON

well as an exclusive townhouse, each individually designed and decorated. All are equipped with luxury amenities including high-speed wireless internet access, flat screen LCD TV and DVD/CD player. There’s a spectacular pool and lounge area at the Haymarket: an 18meter length pool surrounded by gold leather couches and a 14-seat bar. It’s a splash of Miami glamour in the midst of London’s West End. The ceiling is lit like a starlit sky and at the end of the pool a contemporary light projection of an orange/fuchsia sunset is so magnificent you’ll want to grab your camera. 1 Suffolk Place, London. 44 20 7470 4000;

Room Two), heralded its reopening in 1991. The newly renovated Mews offer a choice of 26 junior and master suites, as well as the Penthouse Suite, a rooftop apartment overlooking the skyline of London. Suites are apartment-sized and handsomely furnished. The Mews offers contemporary luxury accommodations so comfortable you could spend a month, let alone a long weekend. The American Bar is a favorite historic landmark at The Stafford. Named “Best Hotel Bar Worldwide” at the 2009 Luxury Travel Awards, The bar got its name in the early 1930s when West End hotels started to cater to American tourists crossing the Atlantic on steamships. The barmen are considered legends, particularly the late Charles Guano, behind the bar for 42 years. The American Bar has an emporium of memorabilia donated by guests of the Stafford, which includes regatta flags, photographs of guests’ yachts and horses, hundreds of ties, caps, and WWII model airplanes donated by pilots who flew during the war. As you enter the bar there are three photographs of Nancy Wake, the highest decorated woman of the Second World War. Nancy first came to the Stafford in 1946, when Louis Burdet, one of the leaders of the French Resistance, ran the hotel. Nancy graced the bar for many years and there is a plaque commemorating her presence behind the far seat, which reads "Nancy's Corner." During the Second World War the Stafford closed to the public and

The Stafford London by Kempinski The Stafford London by Kempinski is one of London’s most treasured hotels. The Stafford’s unique blend of history, elegance, service and location never fails to impress. Each guest is greeted by name, and welcomed home to a romantic English country house in the center of London. The Stafford London is comprised of the Main House, the Carriage House and the Stafford Mews. The Main House features 67 rooms and suites decorated with period pieces and British elegance. In the eighteenth century, the Carriage House stabled the nobility’s thoroughbred horses. The stables were converted to rooms and suites in 1990 and recently renovated. With their own private courtyard and entrance, the twelve Carriage House rooms and suites are the hotel’s most popular. First floor rooms are named after literary scholars, while the ground floor stable door rooms are named after famous racehorses. In fact, Grand National Steeplechase winner Seagram (and namesake of

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served as an officers’ mess for English and American soldiers. Throughout the Blitz, the 350-year-old stone wine cellar beneath the courtyard was used as an air raid shelter. The vestiges of the wine cellar as a wartime haven have been kept intact and are not to be missed. Today, the Cellars house a collection of close to 20,000 bottles, overseen by Master Sommelier Gino Nardella. What a wonderful locale for a private dinner or wine tasting. St James's Place, London.: 44 (0) 20 7493 0111; ❉

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Veniero’s Pasticceria & Caffé 116 Years of Family Tradition BY . ERIN LEVI



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Down below, long loaves of bread fill the storefront window: different from the usual display of decadent cakes and treats (a minute selection of what is actually offered inside.) Veniero’s doesn’t even sell bread – it’s a pastry shop! Yet on this night, an episode of “Curb Your Enthusiasm” is being filmed, and Larry David needs to buy a baguette. The store is still open to customers, though. Friday is a busy night, says Claudia, so they didn’t want to close. (Hey, they’re even open on Christmas Day!) “We’re especially popular on weekends since we stay open until one a.m. People wait in line to have their after-dinner drinks


and dessert at one of the tables inside the cafe or out on the sidewalk. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a marriage proposal this evening, as many couples come here on dates.” And it is not an exaggeration. Beneath the vintage metal ceilings which add to Veniero’s romantic charm and old-world character, groups of twos, threes and fours flow in, some to sit down and eat, others just to buy goodies to go. Upon swinging through the vanilla-etched glass doors, a woman in a red floral dress gushes to her friend, “This is my favorite dessert place. I’m so excited to show it to you.” They pass the front counter, which is replete with cheesecakes, a variety of “regular” cakes, a vast display of Italian confections, as well as miniature versions of all of the above. Most of the customers seated back

World’s Fair in New York. You can view these accolades yourself as they are framed and hanging on the café walls next to a plaque from the New York Fire Department thanking Veniero’s for its support after 9/11, and a few real works of art: 18th century oil paintings by the Venetian artist Francesco Guardi. Not that you need a piece of paper to tell you Veniero’s pastries are special. One bite into a moist, creamy Italian cheesecake made with ricotta cheese is proof enough. If that doesn’t sway you, there’s the Torta di Mandorle — a Veniero’s original — made from homemade marzipan baked around a domeshaped yellow cake which is moistened with rum and layered with apricot preserves. And it would be a mafioso crime to miss tasting the tiramisu, cannoli (in all their glorious versions) or strawberry millefoglie - a house specialty that is a light, delicate pastry layer filled with Bavarian cream and topped with pow-

Antonio, who roasted his own coffee beans in the 1920s and '30s, is even credited with introducing espresso to New York. inside the cafe are oblivious to the filming that is happening in the front room (they’re more concerned with canoodling and their cannoli), while a few who are standing near the entrance stare in awe at Larry David’s signature bald head which keeps popping in and out of the yellow cab directly outside. One lucky couple is even chosen to be extras in the so-called “bread buying scene.” People have been flocking to Veniero’s ever since 1894, when it opened as a pool emporium. At that time, the neighborhood was a bastion of Eastern European immigrants, compared with today’s trendy scene – which saw a transformation after years of being a gritty punk ‘hood. Antonio Veniero, who emigrated that year from Vico Equense, a small coastal town near Naples in Southern Italy, started serving coffee to the patrons as they waited to take their aim behind the cue stick. This not only added to Veniero’s popularity, but also established it as New York’s first and most prominent coffee bar. Step aside, Starbucks: Antonio, who roasted his own coffee beans in the 1920s and ‘30s, is even credited with introducing espresso to New York. One can only have so many cups of coffee without a sweet accompaniment, and so Antonio decided to add cake to the menu. He wasn’t even a trained baker, but was so successful at this new-found trade that he shut down the billiards to open a full bakery, for which he won awards: a diploma from Bologna in 1933 in honor of “Antonio Veniero, per i suoi prodotti d’arte dolcaia,” in addition to a special acknowledgment from the 1939 FROM THE EARLY 1950'S, FRANK ZERILLI AT WORK AT THE BAKERY.

dered sugar and strawberries. Not to mention the homemade gelati, sorbetti (made from fresh fruits) and New York’s favorite cheesecake (“We’re way better than Juniors,” beams Claudia.) Over the last 116 years and counting, Veniero’s has been owned and operated by four generations of family, which is rather uncommon - and special - by today’s standards. After Antonio’s colorful reign (marked by petitions for electricity — he was the first to have it below 14th street; watermelon giveaways — the rind was more valuable than the red flesh as it could be candied and used for cake decoration; and an association with the “blackhand” — a man notorious for setting houses on fire was a friend of Antonio’s and was hired to keep the neighbors from stealing, essentially a modern-day bouncer), ownership went to his entrepreneurial son, Michael, one of six children, which was then passed on to Antonio’s nephew and Claudia’s father, Frank Zerilli. Since Frank’s pass-

around the city. That made it easier to establish a wholesale business, which is still very successful today. In the 1980s and ‘90s, Frank physically expanded the business by hiring more bakers (today there are a total of 18 in addition to 32 other employees) as well as by building another room in the café to seat more clients. Neither Frank nor his predecessors believed in spending money on advertising; their business was lucky enough to grow just by word-of-mouth. Word-of-mouth can travel far these days, even as far as Japan, where Veniero's is surprisingly popular. Who would have imagined there's even a Japanese comic book about the East Village pasticceria? Claudia Atkinson recounts the first time she heard about her business's strangefound fame abroad: “I was working out at the Weston Racquet Club with Scahyio Furukawa when she told me, 'Claudia, Veniero's was on Japanese TV today. They love it over there. They're so impressed with its longevity, family tradition and success.'” Customers still come in today remembering stories of THE FAMILY: (L TO R) LINDA MARTELLA, MEREDITH ATKINSON, CLAUDIA ATKINSON AND ROBERT ZERILLI Frank, the face of Veniero's for over 50 years, and often described as a very generous person and good motivator (he was known to hand out $20 bills to workers who were doing a good job, which at the time was a lot of money) who occasionally would exhibit characteristics akin to the infamous “soup man” if someone didn't like his pastries. Though the holiday season can be quite tiring - two-hourlong lines of people wrapped around the block waiting to pick up desserts their grandmothers ordered (Veniero's has become a part of many families' holiday traditions), Claudia especially enjoys working during this time because it's when she hears the most stories about her father's days of running Veniero's. “Customers will tell us about things we never knew happened because we were never there working,” she says. More than just a good bakery, “Veniero's is a place of opportunity,” explains Claudia. The establishment is composed of mainly immigrant workers: from a Bangladeshi barista to Turkish and Polish wait staff, a Maltese manager, and Mexican bakers (the head bakers have always been Italian.) They are all given the chance to make a life here in America and ing soon after Veniero’s 100th anniversary in 1994, Claudia’s mother ran pursue their dreams, from modeling to putting their children through the business full-time alongside Robert. Claudia and her sister Linda school. The diversity of the staff is also a reflection of the multiculturalwould help part-time, but are more involved now that their mother is ism of the neighborhood. “We have our own little U.N. here,” Claudia sadly no longer with them. notes as she scans the room. In the case of Frank and Antonio’s families, children were never In the age of Starbucks and Dunkin' Donuts - fast-food chains and corexpected to work at the bakery. Instead, education was stressed. Most porate franchises, it is a wonderful anomaly that Veniero's is still alive, went off to pursue other careers (like Claudia who became a nurse and well, and family run: a good reason to not curb your enthusiasm, and Linda who taught at an elementary school), but there was always one keep your appetite. who had an interest in the business: for Antonio it was Michael, for Frank it was his son Robert, and for Robert it is his son Frankie. Veniero's Pasticceria & Caffé, 342 E. 11th Street (between 1st and 2nd Claudia, who grew up above the bakery with her parents and three sibAvenue) New York, NY. 212/674-7070. Sunday - Thursday: 7am - midlings — presumably sharing a very aromatic childhood — remembers her night; Friday - Saturday: 7 am - 1 am. ❉ father only joining the family for dinner on holidays such as Christmas and Easter. Every other night of the year, he was at a restaurant — dining Erin Levi lives and works in New York City where she celebrates as either a first timer or regular (like at Rao’s, where he, as well as each and every meal with the joy of la gourmandise, never missing an opportunity to try new food. Sinatra had tables) in order to build relationships with restaurant owners

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am not receiving any type of compensation to write this article. I am a woman of integrity and refuse to endorse or promote anything that I have not tried myself or that I don’t believe in. The motivation to write this article is basically the fact that for the first time in ten years I can actually shop for jeans! The ability to slip into denim and the journey that got me to this place is what I want to share with you. I’ve been exercising all my life. My workout history began in my native Georgia, and I don’t mean Atlanta, but rather the country Georgia near the Black Sea. There I got into kickboxing and supplemented my workouts by

swimming, running cross-country, and skiing. My intense training routine was quickly abandoned when I came to the United States. Getting situated in a new country required all of my attention. My commitment to physical fitness was forced into the shadows as I struggled to make ends meet.

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Once life stabilized, it was time to resume my workouts. I found an American martial arts instructor and got back into kickboxing. I went all out… boot camps at 4:30 am, running with 20-pound packs on my back, and sweating like a pig! I loved every minute of it, except for two major problems. One was that I was gaining a lot of muscle weight and my physique was taking on a very “masculine” look. Secondly, all this military style training was taking its toll on my knees to the point where just going up and down the stairs was absolutely excruciating. It was time to seriously reevaluate my workout. I decided that intense boot camps were intended for young army recruits training for warfare. I also determined that I didn’t want to look like Mr. Universe, which was my present state at 205 pounds, with huge muscles. So I gave “hot yoga” a try. Stretching in a sweatbox seven days a week, at the rate of two classes per day softened me up a bit, but nothing more. I kept telling myself that this was really good for me and that I was actually losing weight. The reality was that “hot yoga” made me feel like I was going to pass out and I was still waking up in the morning with crumbs all over my body as a result of the nighttime eating! Just as I found myself at another crossroad regarding my training, I received an email advertisement from Calasanz Martial Arts. I heard that celebrities trained there and that Calasanz, a celebrity in his own right, had built his reputation on helping women re-create and re-shape their bodies for over thirty years. I was curious, but then talked myself out of calling because I was under the perception that it would be too expensive. I took a closer look at the ad, which said, “We offer special rates to accommodate rocky times of recession.” I decided to be proactive and called. Much to my surprise, it was Calasanz himself who picked up the phone. After a brief conversation, I made an appointment. Calasanz was not your typical gym. I can best describe it as a place that vibrated with “chi”… a large, open, airy space, decorated with mirrors, natural stone, and Asian water fountains. No heavy equipment or rows of machines. Instead, the training tools included ballet bars, wooden dummies, mats, light weights, and bamboo sticks. The atmosphere was warm and welcoming. Calasanz greeted me upon arrival. He was charismatic and down-toearth. During that first lesson, I discussed with him my dissatisfaction with my recent workout regimes. I was reassured as he said “You are in the right place! Now that you have the best we will fix everything!” Questioning his modesty, I was immediately amazed at how Calasanz was able to pinpoint the best exercises for my body type. I also noticed that the Calasanz approach was gentle on the body. I could feel my muscles stretching. I could feel myself working out in a way that felt natural…


a routine that was organically suited for my body. After a few introductory lessons, I signed up for a one-year membership. It was the best thing I could have done for myself. Like most women, I checked myself out in the mirror on a regular basis. It was really exciting to be a witness to my own transformation. Within a period of three months, I went from a size 14 to a size 8. The shame of being out of shape disappeared. My aches and pains were gone. I slept less and had more energy to get through the day. My jewelry came out of the box and so did the clothes I thought I had lost forever. I felt youthful and elegant. I was ready to adorn myself once again. I’ve even caught admiring eyes checking me out and men readily willing to hold doors open for me. The results have been totally magnificent! The best thing you can do for yourself is to pick up the phone, call 203-847-6528, and personally speak with Calasanz. Training is affordable and many different programs are available to suit your needs, from private to group classes, to special camps. The school is open from 4:00AM to 11:00PM, 7 days a week. The first lesson is complimentary, so you have nothing to lose. What you will gain, however, is nourishment for the mind, body, and spirit that will change your life forever… and you just may enjoy shopping for jeans once again! For more information visit Calasanz’ websites at:; PS. I’ll go one step further! If you’d like a live testimonial, feel free to contact me directly! Nana Smith: 203-858-6727 (cell);


Nana Smith was born in the Republic of Georgia and works in the field of real estate as a certified assessor, appraiser, and agent. She lives with her husband Ken in Stamford, Connecticut.

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Why You Should Buy a Home Now– Even After the Tax Credit B Y . G A I L L I L L E Y Z AWA C K I


hile much press coverage has been given to the recent first-time and move-up buyer tax credit, there are many time-sensitive factors that make the current climate an exceptional time to buy a home—even without the tax credit. Besides mortgage interest rates that have been hovering at nearrecord lows, homes in many markets have become more affordable. Prices have moderated from the highs of the housing boom that occurred in most of the country, especially in major markets where they had increased significantly. According to the National Association of Home Builders (NAHB), new construction homes are an especially wise investment for home buyers. New homes are generally built to be much more energy efficient than homes constructed a generation ago, making them more affordable to operate. Plus, new homes often incorporate open floorplans, flexible spaces, improved safety features and low-maintenance materials, making them well-suited for today’s modern families. So, if you’re thinking about buying a home, please don’t count on interest rates or prices staying at current levels—I’ve seen them change unpredictably and quickly! Mortgage rates are sensitive to market conditions, and even a slight increase can push monthly payments beyond a family’s budget. As the country recovers from the recession and people stabilize their financial situations, NAHB economists expect that home prices will begin to increase by 2011.

11 WAYS TO GET YOUR HOME READY FOR APPRAISAL If you’re looking to sell or refinance your home, you know that a home appraisal is a necessary step in the process. While the value of your home may not be what it once was, it is important for homeowners to be realistic when it comes to getting their home appraised. As a member of the Top 5 in Real Estate Network, I know how vital it is to list your home at the right price. Price is, after all, only a part of marketing—but it is crucial, and having an appraisal done is the first step toward making the right pricing decision. Here are 11 ways to prepare for a home appraisal: 1. The appraiser will need approximately 30 minutes to one hour to complete the inspection phase of the appraisal process, which includes: exterior photos of the front and rear of the home and a photo

2 1 6 W E S T O N M A G A Z I N E G R O U P. C O M

of the street in front of the property; measurements of the exterior of the home, garage and any outbuildings; a walk-through inspection of all rooms and levels of the interior of the home, including the basement. 2. Get organized. Put together a checklist that will help you get ready for your appraisal. 3. Be flexible when scheduling the appointment. 4. Have a copy of your home’s blueprint to help verify measurements and lot size. 5. Provide a list of improvements made to the property since the purchase. Improvements that should be noted include adding a pool, patio, updating your kitchen or bathroom, and any room additions. 6. Allow your appraiser access to the entire property, including access to any crawl space or attic areas. 7. Keep in mind that a clean home makes a good impression. Be sure to trim the lawn, clean the pool and garage, repair cracked windows or torn screens, check for leaky faucets and secure gutters and down spouts before your appraisal. 8. Point out any amenities that may not be obvious to the appraiser: sprinkler systems, patios, pools, security systems, built-in pool vacuum, etc. 9. Provide a copy of last year's tax assessment information. 10. Know what year the house was built and when improvements were made. 11. The first thing appraisers look for is comparables, so be prepared and have a list of recent sales of similar properties in the immediate neighborhood. Following these steps will go a long way toward making the home appraisal process a bit easier. For more information on home appraisals and preparing your home for sale, please e-mail and please feel free to forward these tips to any family and friends with a home sale in their future. Gail Lilley Zawacki, GRI, ABR, CRS, E-PRO, was awarded the Coldwell Banker International President?s Premier, an impressive distinction achieved by only the top 1% of all Coldwell Banker sales associates across the country in 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, and 2009. Office: 203/682-9444;

Advice on using Zillow® for Weston, CT BY . RYA N CORNELL


y clients ask me all the time, “What do you think of Zillow? Do you think it’s accurate for Weston?” is a popular real estate website founded by two guys from Microsoft who also created the wellknown Expedia travel site. Zillow has established estimates or what it calls “Zestimates” for more than half the nation’s houses (more than 40 Million). Sellers always worry that a buyer will rely on what Zillow says about the value of their house. And buyers DO (although they shouldn’t, especially in places like Weston). Buyers are sometimes afraid to pay more than what Zillow says a home is worth (even if the buyer knows intuitively he’s paying a good price).

backyard (versus your neighbor’s swamp). If you just renovated your bathrooms, repainted and sanded the wood floors, there’s no way for Zillow to know that – since there’s no Zillow employees on Tuesday Broker Tours. Now, if you don’t like Zillow’s Zestimate for your house, you can log in and create an Owner’s Estimate. And, there are some tricks you can use to boost the number to where you think it should be. But, the Zestimate still shows up, prominently stigmatizing your house. No matter how mad you get, there’s simply no way to make it disappear. If you want to find out what a home is worth, you can’t rely on a website. You still need to find an expert REALTOR. And, in Weston, you absolutely need to find someone who specializes in Weston, someone

As far as I can tell, Zillow® simply calculates the average price per square foot for houses recently sold near yours, and then multiplies that by the square footage of your house (according to the tax records). The problem is that the site just isn’t that accurate for a town like Weston (with such diverse houses one next to the other). For instance, for the houses that sold in July, Zillow’s Zestimates were off by an average of 20% (meaning they were worthless). For example, as of today, the Zestimate for 5 Ledgewood Drive is $818,500, while it recently sold for $650,000 (21% less). And, the Zestimate for 50 Tall Pines Drive is $1,158,500, while it actually sold for $1,349,000 (16% more). Zillow even confesses its inaccuracy, if you click on their fine print. For Fairfield County, they concede that the Median Error is 12.1%, meaning that HALF of their Zestimate’s are off by more than 12%. The problem is in the site’s methodology. Zillow won’t reveal its proprietary formula. (It’s kind of like the credit reporting agencies that give you a bad score but won’t tell you how they came up with it.) As far as I can tell, Zillow simply calculates the average price per square foot for houses recently sold near yours, and then multiplies that by the square footage of your house (according to the tax records). It doesn’t consider whether you have a new kitchen or a flat

who has been inside all of the houses on the market (and those that sold recently). He can physically walk through the house and help you truly understand where the house fits into the market, and what you can expect for a sale price. Zillow is a great site, giving consumers access to valuable historical data and charts and graphs showing various trends. But, don’t rely too heavily on its Zestimates. ❉ Ryan Cornell is an expert real estate broker in the Weston and Wilton markets. He recently joined William Pitt Sotheby’s International Realty. His unique and innovative marketing program allows him to sell houses, even in this tough market. He has earned almost every designation and certification available, including the coveted Certified Luxury Home Marketing Specialist; and he has won various sales awards including the Double Gold Medallion. You can reach him at 203/247-0718 or

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91 Miry Brook Road Danbury, CT 06810 203.830.3916

INDEPENDENT SCHOOL GUIDE Day Schools Emphasis on Values Connecticut Friends School believes that education is preparation for life: the lively development of intellectual, physical, and socialemotional capacities as well as those of the spirit. Teachers are facilitators of the learning process, using dialogue, reflection and inquiry as tools for learning in the classroom. The Quaker values of simplicity, peace, integrity, community, equality, and stewardship of the earth are deeply embedded in the curricula and school culture.

Connecticut Friends School Serious Work, Joyous Atmosphere Wilton, CT “Strong core academics are complemented by character education, community service, visual and performing arts and outdoor education. We know our daughter will be well prepared to enter high school after finishing at CFS.” –David Mandel, parent of a middle-school student For more than 300 years, Friends schools have been recognized for fine academics as well as a whole-child approach to intellectual and moral development. Connecticut Friends School is the first and only Quaker elementary/middle school in Connecticut. With 60 students in four multi-age classrooms, the independent day school has an incredible student to teacher ratio. The small size of the school guarantees their students are individually guided in improving their passions and gifts. Along the way they develop the uncommon poise and kindness that distinguishes their graduates. CONNECTICUT FRIENDS SCHOOL • Creative, hands-on, interdisciplinary K-8 grade academic program • Outstanding faculty with advanced degrees and conflict resolution training • Main campus on five wooded acres; a second, 15-acre campus used as a “living” classroom for nature studies and activities • Inclusive Quaker values: simplicity, peace, integrity, community, equality and stewardship of the earth • Rich, varied arts and culture (dance, theater, drumming, music, art, storytelling) • Outdoor education and leadership program every other week

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Conflict Resolution and Compassion At Connecticut Friends School, they develop peace education practices for nonviolent conflict resolution. Their curricula promotes teaching each subject in a way that enhances student understanding of justice and basic human and civil rights. Through service learning, students gain an awareness of the world beyond their immediate environment, have exposure to broad societal issues, develop compassion for those struggling under difficult circumstances, and cultivate an ability to view problems from a variety of perspectives. Where Their Graduates Go Local public high schools in Weston, New Canaan, Darien, Norwalk, and Westport; magnet schools such as Academy of Information Technology & Engineering, Nutmeg Ballet, and the Center for Global Studies; private schools including The Masters School, King School, Fairfield Prep, Westtown School, Soundview Prep, St. Joseph High School, St. Luke’s School, Suffield Academy, Trinity Catholic, Trinity-Pawling, International School (Italy), and Wooster School. CFS alumni have been accepted at the following colleges: American University, Bowling Green, Bryn Mawr, Bucknell, College of the Redwoods, Colorado College, Columbia University, Cornell, Earlham, The New School, George Washington University, Gettysburg, Goucher, Green Mountain, Guilford, Hampshire, Harvey Mudd, Haverford, Hobart, Lafayette, Lewis & Clark, Middlebury, MIT, Princeton University, Swarthmore, University of Rhode Island, University of Rochester, University of Vermont, and Wellesley. Connecticut Friends School is accredited by Connecticut Association of Independent Schools and Friends Council on Education. Their first Open House is Friday, November 5th at 1 p.m. RSVP at 203/762-9860 or to arrange a tour. Go to for more information. WILTON CAMPUS: 317 New Canaan Road (Route 106) Wilton, CT. 203/762-9860.

Ridgefield Academy Building a Strong Foundation from Preschool to Grade 8 Ridgefield, CT A child’s early educational experience significantly impacts the way they see themselves and the world around them. Research indicates that the critical education years from preschool through grade 8 are when skills are developed, confidence is built, character is formed, and a love of learning is instilled. At Ridgefield Academy, they know this best. For over 35 years, Ridgefield Academy, an independent coeducational day school located in Ridgefield, Conn., has helped educate children in a nurturing environment dedicated to building skills, confidence, and character. RA is intentionally not associated with a high school in an effort to focus on these formative educational years. Graduates leave the school well prepared for their secondary school experiences and with the tools to help them live successful adult lives that are filled with purpose. An Engaging and Challenging Curriculum Ridgefield Academy’s innovative teaching staff and small classroom environment help to nurture students with individual attention and encouragement. Through an emphasis on the whole child and high standards of achievement, Ridgefield Academy strives to help children become thoughtful, independent, and confident learners. Classroom environments are a safe place for children to express ideas and take risks, with only constructive criticism from peers. “The Ridgefield Academy community has given our children the strength and confidence to unleash their intellectual curiosity and revel in their individuality,” comments one parent. “We credit RA with helping prepare them for the continuing academic rigor and support they will receive at Hopkins School for their high school years.” RA’s curriculum combines the traditional, core subject areas of language arts, mathematics, science, and social studies with a rich program of music, art, and drama designed to inspire students and spark their creativity. “The strengths of RA’s program can be found on many different levels,” comments parent and Weston resident Barbara Chopin. “I think it is the school’s overall approach to curriculum development. Interweaving meaningful literature with verbal and artistic expression; expanding a history unit to include culture, art and science along with the core topic; relating Latin roots to English and foreign language vocabulary are all examples of how RA educates rather than teaches. From the first moment you meet the teaching staff, you realize they are there because they love to educate students.”

A School Built on Values The RA school community is a caring community built on a foundation of shared values. In all areas of school life, students model and reinforce the principles of respect, responsibility, fairness, and service to others. Service learning is incorporated into the curriculum to engage children in meaningful activities that reinforce the importance of service to others. Focus on Communication An important part of becoming a confident learner is mastering the tools to effectively communicate your ideas to others. Research supports that children who are taught communication strategies and provided with weekly practice at an early age are more adept at informal and formal public speaking. At Ridgefield Academy, children are taught oral and written communication skills as early as preschool. In second grade, children engage in a formal public speaking curriculum and are given ample opportunity to practice these skills through the curriculum. Every graduate completes his or her educational journey with a personal graduation speech that highlights the success of RA’s Public Speaking Program. The Right Secondary Placement Ridgefield Academy dedicates itself to helping each student find the right secondary school for the next step of his or her educational journey. This is their commitment to every eighth grade student. As students enter grade 6, the Head of School and the Head of Upper School lead each student through a sequence of steps designed to help prepare, plan, investigate and consider a wide range of high school options. To help in this process, trips to day schools and boarding schools are offered to interested seventh grade students. Additionally, all eighth grade students meet weekly with their Head of Upper School in an effort to determine the best next step for them. Throughout the process, students and families are guided and supported. The RA Difference Many families have discovered the difference the Ridgefield Academy experience can make in their child’s confidence and development. By utilizing a comprehensive curriculum delivered in a supportive school environment, Ridgefield Academy helps students build a strong foundation for future success. For more information about Ridgefield Academy, visit or call Libby Mattson at (203) 894-1800 x112.

INDEPENDENT SCHOOL GUIDE Hopkins School New Haven, CT Hopkins School was founded in June, 1660 as Hopkins Grammar School by the Reverend John Davenport with funds from Governor Edward Hopkins, the second Governor of the Connecticut Colony. The school began with one teacher and about thirty local boys in a one-room schoolhouse on the New Haven Green. Hopkins School today is a highly academic, coeducational independent day school comprised of 680 students in grades seven through twelve, from 65 cities and towns throughout central Connecticut. The faculty and staff number 150; the School is located on a 108-acre campus in the Westville section of New Haven. Hopkins defines itself as a community of civility and learning, one that educates students from diverse backgrounds to a full measure of their talents and humanity. A commitment to competitive athletics, to the creative joys of the artist, and to community service are essential aspects of the Hopkins experience. Each year Hopkins hosts an annual Admission Open House on a Sunday in October, giving prospective families an opportunity to learn more about their unique community. Additional information about admission events can be found at, by writing to or by calling the Admission Office at (203) 397-1001. Hopkins is one of the three oldest independent secondary schools in the country; this year the School is celebrating a milestone—its 350th anniversary. More than 3,000 members of the Hopkins community gathered on campus in June to commemorate the 350th with an outdoor party and fireworks display. They will be concluding their formal events with an Academic Convocation on September 24, 2010. Invited guests include college presidents, heads of schools and Hopkins community members —past and present —who will don their formal academia robes in honor of the 2010 Hopkins Medal recipients, Jane Aries Levin, Senior Lecturer, Yale University and Richard C. Levin, President, Yale University. The Hopkins Medal is awarded to a member of the Hopkins family for unparalleled commitment, devotion, and loyalty to Hopkins. The Levins’ first roles in the Hopkins family were those of parents, seeing four children complete their secondary education at Hopkins: John, ’90, Daniel, ’94, Sarah ’96 and Rebecca ’03. Among their legacy to Hopkins are the book acquisition fund established for Hopkins’ library and their service on the Committee of Trustees. Richard 2 3 4 W E S T O N M A G A Z I N E G R O U P. C O M

was a member and served as the Treasurer, a position he held until 1995, when he became Yale’s President. Jane Levin became a Hopkins Trustee in 2000, and served on the Education, Finance and Investment Committee and the Trustee Committee, which selects future board members. With Jane’s retirement from the Board in 2010, the Levins will have fulfilled twenty-four years of remarkable service to Hopkins. Questions about the Academic Convocation can be addressed to 986 Forest Road, New Haven, CT. 203/397-1001.

Lauralton Hall Prepares Its Students for the Rigors of College Study Milford, CT Academy of Our Lady of Mercy, Lauralton Hall, is a Catholic college preparatory high school founded in 1905 by the Sisters of Mercy. The school is over one hundred years old — a major milestone in the life of any school but even more significant for a Catholic girls’ school. Set on a beautiful 30-acre campus centered THE LAURALTON HALL CLASS OF 2010 REJOICES UPON HAVING JUST RECEIVED THEIR DIPLOMAS.

around a Victorian mansion built in 1864, the school prepares girls to become competent, confident and compassionate women. Students are challenged to not just succeed in a rigorous academic program, but to give of themselves —especially to those in need. The well-rounded curriculum fully prepares students for the rigors of college study, with demanding honors and advanced placement classes offered in all academic disciplines. Known for its many competitive sports teams, Lauralton also has a proud history of athletic excellence. In addition, numerous clubs and activities are offered to meet the interests of every girl. Since Lauralton believes character formation is as essential as academic achievement, the school’s unique mission incorporates the core values of its founding organization, the Sisters of Mercy: compassion and service; educational excellence; concern for women and women’s

issues; global vision and responsibility; spiritual growth and development; as well as collaboration. Students are encouraged to pursue knowledge, recognize truth and respond to the needs of others. As the oldest Catholic college-preparatory high school for girls in Connecticut, Lauralton attracts more than four hundred students from throughout New Haven and Fairfield counties. Centrally located in historic downtown Milford and within walking distance of the train station, students arrive by train, car or bus, seeking the same rigorous preparation for college as the more than 6,000 alumnae who have passed through Lauralton’s halls for over 100 years. Lauralton Hall encourages all interested young women in grades six, seven, and eight as well as transfer students to consider the Lauralton advantage for their high school years. Students are welcome to spend a day at the school visiting classes and meeting faculty and students. For more information, please contact the Admissions Office at (203) 877-2786, Ext. 144. 200 High Street Milford, CT. LAURALTON HALL PRESENTS STUDENT FALL MUSICAL PRODUCTION OF “ANNIE” Lauralton Hall is pleased to present a student fall musical production of “Annie.” Some of the principal cast members include: Dominique Bonessi,’11 of Milford as Miss Hannigan; Victoria Conaway,’12 of Trumbull as Grace; Jeff Sargent of Trumbull as Warbucks; Briana Archer,’12 of West Redding as Duffy; Rajane Brown,’13 of Bridgeport as Pepper; Andrea Castillo,’13 of Monroe as Molly; Brenna Donahue,’14 of Trumbull as July; Maggie Mellott,’11 of Norwalk as Annie; Amy Patterson,’12 of Bridgeport as Kate; Saray Yoney,’13 of Easton as Tessie; Emma Linsenmeyer,’12 of Fairfield as Ronnie; Abbey Maloney, ’13 of Fairfield as Connie; and Carolyn Savoia, ’13 of Ridgefield as Bonnie. The student production of “Annie” will take place from Friday, Oct. 22 through Sunday, Oct. 24 in the Parsons Complex Auditorium, 70 West River St., Milford. For more information or to order tickets, call (203) 877-2786.

INDEPENDENT SCHOOL GUIDE Wooster School Danbury, CT What do you look for in a school? Challenging academics? Competitive sports? Innovative arts? Dedicated teachers? Small classes? The latest technology? A beautiful campus? These are important qualities of a fine school, and Wooster is one of the finest. Since 1926, Wooster School has provided a premier educational experience in Northern Fairfield and Westchester counties. But a first-rate education is more than just the sum of its parts: Maybe what you’re really looking for is the best place for your child to grow up! Located on the Ridgefield/Danbury border, their scenic campus of over 100 acres provides a safe and peaceful environment that offers a variety of habitats for experimentation, direct study, and outdoor fun. Central to its educational mission, Wooster has maintained a longstanding commitment to diversity in its student body, staff, faculty,

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and Board of Trustees. They cultivate the intellectual, creative, athletic, spiritual, and ethical development of their students – for their benefit and for the good of the world. Lower School (Pre-K to 5) emphasizes the joy of learning, integrating language arts with reasoning to create lifelong readers, writers, and problem solvers. A science lab, a foreign language initiative, computer skills, thematic units, varied athletics and recreational facilities, and a myriad of innovative events and programs are just some of their unique features. Middle School (6 to 8) offers a challenging curriculum taught in small groups by dedicated teachers. Students work with their advisors to navigate through the waters of early adolescence, while preparing to become autonomous learners. They feature classes in Latin, French, and Spanish; math classes grouped by ability; hands-on science; required geography; field trips integral to the curriculum; studio art, sculpture, and photography; private music lessons; and technologyinfused learning. Athletes may try out for the 32 Upper School teams. Upper School (9 to 12) provides an outstanding college preparatory curriculum within the context of a strong liberal arts tradition. Academic excellence is promoted through independent study, colloquia, honors, and Advanced Placement courses. Sophomores are eligible for a unique Year Abroad Program in France or Spain; all seniors participate in Senior Independent Study; “self-help” is a community philosophy wherein children and adults act as stewards of the School; and 100 hours of community service are required. They have talented, professional artists and musicians who bring their passion and skills to their classrooms. Sports teams compete in a 45-member Association as well as in New England Tournaments. Experienced counselors support students in the college application process. They explore their intellectual aspirations, personal goals, and career plans. Recent graduates have attended Amherst, Bard, Barnard, Boston College, Brown, Cambridge (UK), CarnegieMellon, Cornell, NYU, Pratt, Princeton, RIT, RPI, Tufts, UMichigan, UPenn, Wesleyan, and Williams. An excellent education in a community that cares. 91 Miry Brook Rd., Danbury, CT. 203/830-3916

Villa Maria School Stamford, CT The Villa Maria School is a co-educational day school for children with learning disabilities. In small classes with a 4:1 student-teacher ratio, Villa Maria supports and encourages children to learn, develop individual interests, and exceed the expectations of their parents, teachers and themselves. Villa Maria, known as the “Jewel on the Hill” in residential North Stamford, has been approved as a school for students with learning disabilities by the Connecticut State Department of Education since 1980. Additionally, Villa Maria is accredited by the Connecticut

ent who felt that she had discovered an invaluable and precious resource in Villa Maria. The precious resource, however, is the Villa Maria student, whose willingness to explore different ways to learn enables him to refine and polish the skills necessary to unlock his true potential. For more information about the school and its programs, please contact Mary Ann Tynan at 203/322-5886 x104 or Maria School: 161 Sky Meadow Drive, Stamford, CT.; 203/322-5886.

THE FAIRCHESTER LEAGUE The Fairchester League is a consortium of independent schools located geographically within Westchester County, New York and Fairfield County, Connecticut. Admission Directors at these schools meet regularly to establish consistent practices and procedures designed to support applicant families in the admission process. Specifically, these schools establish: • common Admission Procedures • common required academic screening and testing assessments, locations, and schedules • common admission notification and reply dates. Member Schools represent a complete range of opportunities for students in early education through grade 12. Fairchester Schools are accredited with the CAIS (Connecticut Association of Independent Schools) and the NYSAIS (New York State Association of Independent Schools). The Fairchester Admission Directors adhere to the Principles of Good Practice established by the National Association of Independent Schools (NAIS).

Association of Independent Schools. Attracted by the prospect of an individualized curriculum in a calm, accepting environment, students come to them from all across Fairfield County and Westchester County in New York, some from as far away as New York City. Their mission is to develop the full potential of students who are learning disabled with a focus on academic achievement and self-advocacy. “We do this by providing an education that will help children who learn differently acquire knowledge, develop skills, and increase the selfacceptance and self-esteem necessary to become responsible adults and by advocating for and promoting understanding of learning disabilities. Our ultimate goal is to facilitate a student’s return to an independent or public school armed with the tools and skills necessary to continue their education in a mainstream setting. Most of our alumni have gone on to achieve college degrees or higher levels of education.” Villa Maria stands apart from traditional schools in very distinct ways. First and foremost, they maintain a 4:1 teacher-student ratio in their classrooms, and all of their classroom teachers are certified in Special Education. Secondly, a heavy emphasis is placed on positive social interaction and development. Third, each student’s curriculum is developed based on his/her individual needs. In addition, Villa Maria hosts many enrichment programs throughout the year, such as children’s author visits and special performances. Furthermore, Villa Maria also holds seminars throughout the year for parents of special-needs children to provide information and updates on the latest developments in special education. Villa Maria was first given the nickname “Jewel on the Hill” by a par-

Fairchester Admissions Fair Fairchester Independent Schools Saturday, September 25, 2010: 10:00 am to noon. SUNY Purchase, The Performing Arts Center, 733 Anderson Hill Road, Purchase, NY.

MEMBER SCHOOLS Brunswick School 100 Maher Avenue Greenwich, CT 06830 The Children’s School 12 Gary Road Stamford, CT 06903 Connecticut Friends School 317 New Canaan Road Wilton, CT 06897 Convent of the Sacred Heart 1177 King Street Greenwich, CT 06831 Eagle Hill Greenwich 45 Glenville Road Greenwich, CT 06831 Eagle Hill Southport Main Street Southport, CT 06490 Fairfield Country Day School 2970 Bronson Road Fairfield, CT 06430 Fairfield College Preparatory School 1073 North Benson Road Fairfield, CT 06824

French-American School of New York 145 New Street Mamaroneck, NY 10543 Greenwich Academy 200 North Maple Avenue Greenwich, CT 06830 Greenwich Catholic 471 North Street Greenwich, CT 06830 Greenwich Country Day School P.O. Box 623 Greenwich, CT 06836-0623 Greens Farms Academy P.O. Box 998 35 Beachside Avenue Greens Farms, CT 06838-0998 Hackley School 293 Benedict Avenue Tarrytown, NY 10591

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INDEPENDENT SCHOOL GUIDE faculty house parents. Students living with host families are able to experience life in a home with siblings who are, in most cases, Ross students themselves. Hosted students are encouraged to attend all boarding house activities and excursions as well. Ultimately, the boarding program at Ross exposes day students to their peers from across the globe and around the corner, while providing boarders with a home away from home. “Being a boarder as opposed to a day student is a very unique experience. I feel that it creates a sense of independence that I would not have necessarily developed living at home,” says Fara. “I also believe that it creates longlasting bonds between people who would not necessarily have formed strong friendships unless under these circumstances.” FACTS ABOUT ROSS SCHOOL • Ross School is accredited by the Middle States Association (MSA), with an International Credential; it is a member of the National Association of Independent Schools (NAIS) and The Association of Boarding Schools (TABS). • Boarders eat breakfast, lunch and dinner in the Ross Café. The Café uses regional, organic, seasonal and sustainable foods and serves a variety of fresh, healthy and flavorful meals each day. • Ross High School students can take international trips as part of Winter Intersession. Students and teachers work intensively on group and individual projects for three weeks, including service projects, either home or abroad. • Ross School’s state-of-the-art athletic facilities feature two gymnasiums, a dance and martial arts studio, four multi-sport fields that can be configured for soccer, lacrosse and baseball, six indoor/outdoor Har-tru tennis courts, an outdoor basketball court, and a Fieldhouse. • The school has excellent college placements, including Bates, Bowdoin, Brown, Columbia, Duke, Georgetown, Middlebury, Princeton, Tufts, University of Chicago, University of Southern California, University of Pennsylvania, Vanderbilt, Vassar, Wesleyan and Yale. Since 2001, 418 students have received 1637 acceptances at over 495 colleges and universities both in the US and internationally. • The 49 members of the class of 2010 had 157 acceptances at 116 different colleges. They received 30 merit scholarships and financial awards totaling over $2 million. Nine students were accepted to their first choice college in the early decision round. The Ross School boarding blog features a review of weekend activities as well as upcoming events, photos, and changes in school schedule or travel alerts. Visit For additional information or to schedule a visit, contact the Admissions Office at 631/907-5400 or Ross School, 18 Goodfriend Drive, East Hampton, NY.

Day & Boarding Schools The Ross School A Global Education, Right Around the Corner East Hampton, NY Classrooms filled with active learners. Electives that take place on the beach, in the woods or on a farm. A global curriculum that offers a chance to travel the world. This may sound like a utopian vision of education, but it is alive and well at Ross School. Serving students in pre-nursery through grade 12, Ross School is located in the Hamptons, just two hours from New York City and Connecticut. The Upper School is nestled in the woods in East Hampton while the Lower School is surrounded by farmland in Bridgehampton. This private institution also boasts an innovative and thriving boarding program for students in grades 7–12. Entering its third year, the program has more than doubled its enrollment, starting with five students and growing to include 85 boarders, or 30% of the High School. A major draw is the school’s dynamic learning environment. Cultural history is at the core of its global curriculum, weaving together math, science, language arts, visual arts, performing arts, media studies, technology and physical education/wellness. Students are provided with a 21st century skills set and are encouraged to become environmental stewards and compassionate citizens, following the school’s motto, “Know Thyself in Order to Serve.” With an education that focuses on cultures and peoples around the world, it is only fitting to have a student body that represents all corners of the globe. The current student body represents Brazil, China, Colombia, France, Germany, Italy, Japan, Korea and the United States, including students from New York City and Texas. Fara Kaner has been attending Ross School for the last four years, first as a day student and now as a boarder. Originally from New York City, she attended the United Nations International School before coming to Ross. “The best thing about Ross would have to be the innovative nature of the curriculum and the warm environment the classes create, to make learning enjoyable,” she says. Boarding students follow the same integrated curriculum as day students and are expected to maintain strong academic standing. A support network of house parents, faculty and the Director of Residential Life offer boarding students assistance at every turn. There are two options for housing. Boarders can choose between living in a family-style home or with a host family. The boarding houses offer beautiful, spacious living environments and are supervised by Ross 2 4 2 W E S T O N M A G A Z I N E G R O U P. C O M

North Country School Lake Placid, NY “What’s the most important educational decision that you and your child will ever make? It’s not college, it’s not grad school and it’s not high school,” explains David Hochschartner, Head of North Country School. “Middle school is the determining factor in a child’s academic and personal well-being. It is where the action is. Our residential program is different from other boarding schools; we are small and personal.” Located just outside of Lake Placid, NY, North Country School is a co-ed day and boarding school for children in grades 4-9. It is a school with small classes on a unique 200-acre campus. The School, and during the summer, Camp Treetops, operate a working farm. Everywhere there are views of the Adirondack Mountains that surround pastures where horses, pigs, sheep and a sheepherding llama graze—not always at the same time. Children head to the barn before breakfast to care for the farm animals, or they help adult staff tend the large gardens. As it’s been for decades, students balance studies, chores and seasonal activities. Daily they participate in an extensive choice of outdoor offerings that may include horseback riding, hiking, games on the soccer fields, rock climbing or skiing on the ski hill. The challenging academic curriculum integrates the surrounding environment for meaningful classroom projects. For instance, math students conduct a cost analysis to determine if raising pork is cost efficient while another class collects data to measure monthly utility use. With more than 20 art offerings, the performing and fine arts program reflects the school’s longstanding belief in the importance of creativity and personal expression. Almost daily, children participate in studio arts, dance, theater and/or music classes. “It is critical for children to pursue projects with passionate intensity… Children do that here,” says David Hochschartner. Year round, the school and camp communities compost, recycle and practice green, sustainable living. “These ‘new’ trends have become all the rage, but we’ve been doing progressive educational farming since 1921,” notes farm manager, Mike Tholen.

Debbie Reamer, a parent from California says, “I have seen the benefits of an education at North Country School through the lives of my two youngest children. They have come home older and wiser in ways that will serve them well the rest of their lives. Actually, it seems hard to believe such a school exists in these times. But luckily for all of us, it does.” Another parent explains it this way, “It provides children with the opportunity to be kids again—the way it was years ago—but with

many of the advantages we enjoy today. It emphasizes the importance of family, community and the responsibilities that go with them. My oldest son has been involved with everything from ice climbing to constructing the set for the school play. NCS stands apart from most boarding schools in their commitment to arts, activities and community responsibilities. What you learn in the classroom is only a small part of what NCS delivers. North Country is the complete package.” For further information, contact Christine LeFevre, Admissions Director:; (518) 523-9329 ext. 6000. 4382 Cascade Road, Lake Placid, NY.

INDEPENDENT SCHOOL GUIDE The Knox School A Home by the Shore St. James, NY The Knox School was founded in 1904 in Briarcliff Manor, New York by Mary Alice Knox, the former principal of the Emma Willard School. After moves to Tarrytown and Cooperstown, in 1954 Knox settled on Long Island’s North Shore in the Village of Nissequogue in St. James—on 48 beautiful acres bordering Stony Brook Harbor. Originally an all-girls school, Knox became fully co-ed in the 1970’s, and currently serves both boarding and day students in grades 6 through Post Graduate. Knox has always been a close-knit community, with alumni and students alike referring to it as their “home by the shore.” They serve fewer than 200 young men and women and have a student to teacher ratio of 6:1, so every student has a voice. Here, young people can take that AP course, captain the team, become a student council officer, and earn a role in the play. And in such a warm and safe community, everything they do is geared toward helping individual students become exceptional scholars and people. Knox students thrive as they develop a strong sense of belonging to the community and become part of something bigger than themselves. It’s easy to do so with all of the varied and cherished traditions at

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Knox. Students love to ring the Victory Bell after athletic contests; each year the entire community, faculty and students, participate in a yearlong “Red Team vs. White Team” competition; and their Lantern Parade, annual all-school trips, and daily Morning Meetings become part of the fabric of life at Knox, leading always to a one of a kind shoreline graduation ceremony. Their academics include Advanced Placement offerings in every subject area, outstanding Visual and Performing Arts, a 5-level ESL program and a support program called BOOST for students who have mild learning differences or simply require additional support for test taking strategies and overall skill building. Their athletics include standards like soccer, basketball, volleyball, baseball and tennis, but they also have a nationally renowned Equestrian program, and they recently added a crew team. Clubs and activities abound, keeping their students engaged in meaningful endeavors not only on campus but all over the country and abroad as well. A rigorous college preparatory program in a family style setting; proximity to the wonders of the North Shore and the endless cultural opportunities of nearby New York City; a profoundly optimistic and dynamically diverse community—this is The Knox School. Contact; 631/686-1600 ext.414. 541 Long Beach Road, St. James, NY

Darrow School Small Community, Big Opportunities New Lebanon, NY At Darrow, it’s not just what you learn, it’s what you live. Darrow’s innovative approach to education creates a dynamic learning environment inside the classroom and throughout the school community. Darrow is a collegepreparatory boarding and day school where students in grades 9–12 are motivated to reach their potential and become their best selves. Darrow’s low 4:1 student-teacher ratio, small classes, challenging hands-on curriculum, inspiring National Historic Landmark campus, and personalized attention encourage students to become critical thinkers, confident learners, and creative individuals. Darrow is a place for students to stretch themselves and reach new horizons. At Darrow, respect for different cultural backgrounds, experiences, learning styles, and interests is emphasized. All students have the opportunity to assume leadership roles, whether on the playing field, in the classroom, or in the dorms. Darrow students also participate in Handsto-Work, a community-service program based on the Shaker motto “Hands to work; hearts to God” that allows them to learn about the benefits of purposeful effort and use of time, as they work alongside their peers, faculty, and staff to maintain our historic campus and reach out to the local community. Another long-standing tradition at Darrow, stewardship of the earth, also harks back to a Shaker legacy. Darrow students study sustainability across the curriculum, helping them to become not only responsible caretakers of their historic campus, but also knowledgeable decision makers and future leaders in global environmental issues. Darrow is the only secondary school in the United States with a Living Machine, an all-natural wastewater treatment facility and learning laboratory, and its Samson Environmental Center has been featured as an example of green building on the Northeast Sustainable Energy Association’s Green Building Open House for six consecutive years. Recently installed Swift wind turbines provide further testament to Darrow’s commitment to sustainability as they help to defray the costs and impact of their electrical usage and provide students with enhanced study options within the sustainability curriculum. Living within Darrow’s close-knit community makes it easy for students to learn about collaboration and teamwork. The combination of personalized feedback from highly accessible faculty and the

hands-on effort of each individual allows every student to clearly see that he or she makes a difference. Darrow students learn that success may not come on the first try, but can be achieved through persistence and reflection. They also learn that it’s okay to make mistakes— it’s part of the process of becoming a life-long scholar and a responsible citizen. Because of this approach to educating the entire individual both in and out of the classroom, Darrow students feel comfortable being themselves as they learn how to express who they are through academics, visual and performing arts, sports, and a variety of stimulating social activities. Whether a student is looking for new opportunities or a fresh start, Darrow School provides a welcoming environment in which all students can excel if they apply themselves conscientiously, and then graduate feeling prepared for the challenges of college and beyond. 110 Darrow Road, New Lebanon, NY. For more information about Darrow School, visit; or call 518/794-6000.


Wilbraham & Monson Academy Wilbraham, MA Nestled in the foothills of the Lower Pioneer Valley of western Massachusetts, 205-year-old Wilbraham & Monson Academy is redefining high school education. They are a Grade 9-postgraduate day and boarding school with a full cadre of college preparatory classes that prepare students for the challenges of competitive colleges and universities. They have championship sports programs, an active residential life, and compelling opportunities for student artists, musicians, and actors. But their distinctive educational approach means that they have even more to offer – they engage their students with an understanding of the global economy and its incredible potential and unimaginable challenges. They prepare their students to be global leaders. As The Global School®, Wilbraham & Monson Academy has an historical foothold in bringing students together from around the world. The first U.S. school to admit Chinese students in 1848, it is part of their institutional culture to be connected to the rest of the world. The Academy now has students from 24 different countries and six continents. Their international alumni base includes government leaders, financial executives and entrepreneurs, and their children. This diverse student body offers their students a high school experience of multicultural understanding that yields lifelong friends and business contacts all over the globe. This global integration and networking is more valuable now than ever. Educationally, it provides a living context for understanding the rapidly evolving global economy, a mastery that they believe is critical to success in later life. That understanding is realized through their students’ experience of economics, finance, and entrepreneurship in their Center for Entrepreneurial & Global Studies (CEGS). The CEGS program is a captivating economic laboratory where students 2 4 6 W E S T O N M A G A Z I N E G R O U P. C O M

surpass the traditional prep school education and engage in entrepreneurial thinking, rigorous analysis, and experiential learning through innovative coursework, independent projects, and travel. One point of entry to the CEGS program is the Shenkman Trading Center, a virtual trading floor environment that offers state-of-the-art technology for students to experience global financial markets. The markets curriculum engages students with financial speakers and mentors, courses in the trading floor on economics and finance, and trips to international financial capitals. Through their extensive alumni and current family network around the globe, they design travel programs where students can learn firsthand about international markets and business while experiencing other cultures. Their students have visited the financial capitals of the U.S., Thailand, Korea, Taiwan, and Belgium. This year’s CEGS trip to China will be a powerful learning tool as students learn about business and finance in one of the world’s most dynamic economies. Entrepreneurial thinking and experiential learning are key to the CEGS learning approach. Students are taught to achieve innovative solutions by integrating their creativity, vision, analytical reasoning, and intellectual skills. Their cutting-edge Global Ecolearn Project® is a living case study, run in part by students, that develops our natural resources while training students in the global, sustainable use of management policy. The project blends business opportunities from harvesting a portion of the Academy’s heavily wooded real estate with real lessons in both entrepreneurship and management of environmental assets. Students may also travel to the Amazon on a trip that is a living example of a visionary economic strategy. On the Amazon trip, students have a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to visit remote tribal villages and sustainable-based research facilities and ranching operations where innovative economic approaches are utilized to preserve environmental resources in Brazil. At Wilbraham & Monson Academy, students partake in unique and innovative economic learning experiences that captivate the imagination and create a greater depth of understanding of our rapidly changing world. As we enter a millennium with connections never before imagined, Wilbraham & Monson Academy students, equipped with the tools they are taught and the imagination that we foster in them, will be able to meet the challenges ahead and reach their true potential. Contact the Office of Admission at 413/596-9108 or 423 Main Street, Wilbraham, MA. 413/596-6811;

Darrow School

A College-Preparatory Boarding and Day School for Grades 9-12

Small Community. Big Opportunities. That’s Darrow. And there’s more…  Challenging Academic Program – Real-world learning using a unique combination of classroom instruction and community involvement

 Hands-to-Work/Community Service – A tradition that cultivates an appreciation for purposeful work and builds connection to the community

 Individualized Approach– Inspiring  Inclusive Athletic Opportunities – classroom environment and one-on-one Eight competitive team sports and several Tutorial Program offer strategic mentoring non-competitive sports, including skiing for academic success and snowboarding five days a week  Commitment to Sustainability –  Visual and Performing Arts – Robust Responsible stewardship of environmental art offerings, in-depth music curriculum, resources and environmental awareness and a dynamic theater program foster permeate the Darrow culture creativity and collaborative learning

Please join us for an Open House! Experience the Darrow School Community Attend a Darrow class, meet our dedicated faculty and enthusiastic students, enjoy lunch, and take a tour of our distinctive campus. Ask questions, hear the chorus sing, learn about Shaker history and so much more! You may register by sending an e-mail to or online at If you are unable to attend an open house, we also welcome visits throughout the year. Call (877) 432-7769 to schedule a visit today!

110 Darrow Rd., New Lebanon, NY 518.794.6000 | Accredited by the Middle States Association of Colleges and Schools

Westover infinite choices

strong voices,


Westover School,

your daughter will live only an hour from home – yet she’ll experience the world

Westover School is a rigorous college preparatory program for girls in grades 9 -12 located in Middlebury, Connecticut. Our community includes students from 17 countries and 16 states. These bright young women enrich one another with their varied backgrounds, talents, interests, and ideas.

Come see for yourself! Our preview days are Monday, October 11th, & Monday, October 25th, from 9:30 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. Registration is required, so call now! Call 203-577-4521 or visit

Open House Hou us ssee En Entrance tran ce Exam use Entran trance Oct. 3 | 1 - 3 pm pm

Oct. 16 or 23 | 8 - 11:3 11:30 0 am

Pre-register online at — $60 test fee Scholarships and financial aid available


203.877.2786 |






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artistic AA fine arts boarding boardinghigh highschool, school,offering offeringthe thehighest highestquality quality artistic training combined academics. training combined with withcomprehensive comprehensivecollege-preparatory college-preparatory academics. The Academy also The also offers offerspost-graduate post-graduateopportunities. opportunities. Interlochen, Michigan Michigan •• 800.681.5912 800.681.5912

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Boarding Schools Hampshire Country School Rindge, NH Hampshire Country School is a small boarding school designed for boys of high ability who want to please their teachers but whose impulsivity or idiosyncrasies keep getting in the way of their good intentions. It may be a good option for the boy who has managed elementary school because of supportive teachers and a comfortable structure but who is likely to struggle with the complex demands of a large middle school. The school offers a friendly environment, a good education,

a peaceful rural setting, and a wide variety of after-school and weekend activities. The best entering age is 8 to 11 years old. Students may remain into high school. The elementary education program, through 6th grade, is designed to strengthen skills and knowledge in reading, writing, math, science, and social studies while accommodating students who may be significantly advanced in some areas (perhaps, reading) and seriously deficient in others (perhaps, writing). The secondary program, begin-

ning with 7th grade, is more traditional. Students move from one subject teacher to another for courses in English, history, science, math, and a foreign language. A typical class has 3 to 5 students. School work is important at Hampshire Country School, but so is life after school and on weekends, when students have time for scheduled activities and also for spontaneous play. Boys who have been afraid of organized sports discover the fun of informal soccer or Wiffleball. Those who have been isolated find other students who share their interest in Legos, complex board games, or obscure bits of knowledge. Those who have been without friends in other places realize that the boys with whom they explore a stream, build a fort, and sled down “death-defying� hills are, in fact, their friends. All this happens because Hampshire Country School is a manageable world where life can be exciting but is not overwhelming. Both scholastic and behavioral expectations are high but with the realization that bright, sensitive, energetic children may become stubborn, move around too much, blurt out remarks they should not, or explode in unnecessary meltdowns. Hampshire Country School is not for the child who intentionally misbehaves and needs aggressively imposed limits, but it can be the place for a boy who gives in to his frustration and regrets it later. The school is also for boys who seem a bit different and have never before found a setting where they fit intellectually and socially. For the right boy, Hampshire Country School can be an ideal world and a place to discover abilities, develop a love for life, and build some of the happiest memories of growing up. Hampshire Country School is located at 28 Patey Circle, Rindge, NH. For more information, contact the admissions office at or 603/899-3325; or visit

INDEPENDENT SCHOOL GUIDE St. Johnsbury Academy St. Johnsbury, VT St. Johnsbury Academy is unique among America’s boarding schools. Students from 52 communities in Vermont and New Hampshire, nearly half of the American states, and even more countries come together to form a remarkably diverse, yet cohesive, and supportive community. The curriculum of 220 courses includes 21 Advanced Placement offerings, 15 comprehensive technology-based programs, 40 offerings in the fine and performing arts, college level engineering, four levels of ESL, and six languages. Extra-curricular programs include 42 interscholastic athletic teams, 65 clubs and activities, 20 intramural sports, international exchange opportunities, and weekly regional travel. With an enrollment of 900 students (240 boarders), St. Johnsbury is able to combine the opportunities found only at the world’s largest and most selective boarding schools with the nurturing support and personal attention exclusive to the best small boarding schools. The quality of its programs has been recognized by the U.S. Department of Education, which named it one of the nation’s “exemplary schools.” The Academy’s mission focuses on character, inquiry, and community. Students are expected to be good citizens, to study hard, become independent lifelong learners, and to give back to their community. Each senior completes a Capstone project that will help to improve the quality of life for the school or another community. Located on Main Street in the town of St. Johnsbury, students are within easy walking distance of a variety of restaurants, theaters, Catamount Arts, the St. Johnsbury Athenaeum, and the Fairbanks Museum and Planetarium. Skiing and some of the best mountain biking trails in the country are less than one-half hour away. National Geographic Adventure Magazine named St. Johnsbury America’s #1 small town for outdoor adventure! Everyone enjoys the region’s natural beauty and the safety of living in Vermont. Each student benefits from small classes (average 12), a devoted faculty, and a talented and committed peer group. The unique 2 5 4 W E S T O N M A G A Z I N E G R O U P. C O M

block schedule provides great flexibility and access to the school’s extensive elective offerings while ensuring each student completes a strong core curriculum. The Learning Center provides opportunities for both academic assistance and enrichment, while a strong advisor program, and resident faculty mentor ensures that each student takes full advantage of all the opportunities, challenges, and support the Academy affords.

The school is committed to working with students of varied abilities and offers academic classes at four levels of instruction in order to meet the needs of each student. The program is especially attractive to students who benefit from academic and personal support, but also seek a school with unlimited opportunities. St. Johnsbury is one of just twelve schools in New England to offer mathematics courses beyond the Advanced Placement program. Last year, nearly 30 percent of the senior class scored over 600 on the SAT Reading test, while almost 40 percent scored above 600 on SAT math. This combination of outstanding faculty, facilities, diversity, and support makes the Academy experience unique. If you are seeking a school where every student is encouraged to Dream Big — this is the one! 1000 Main Street, St. Johnsbury, Vermont. 802/751-2130;;

Educating Young Women through Courage, Humility and

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Emma Stories: Shibani “My Emma story is about confidence and self-improvement.”

“Emma has made me a more confident person… not just in academics but in sports, social life, extra-curricular activities—all aspects of my life. “I have learned to communicate better… to be a leader in the community… to balance my activities… skills for college and beyond. “Emma feels like home.” An Amazing Girl. Shibani helps others as a leader of PHILA, a student-run philanthropic organization assisting nonprofits from Troy to Mumbai. 2 8 5 P AW L I N G A V E N U E , T R O Y, N Y 1 2 1 8 0 5 1 8 . 8 3 3 . 1 3 2 0

Apply now:

A Waldorf high school for

grades 9, 10, 11

boarding and day students

Contact Pat Meissner Director of Admissions 603 654-2391 ext. 109 222 Isaac Frye Highway Wilton, NH 03086

Make other resumés really jealous Earn a prestigious degree from Drexel University anytime, anywhere. Drexel University Online offers over 90 programs with 24/7 online convenience. Ranked as one of “America’s BEST Colleges 2010” by U.S.News & World Report, Drexel has programs in areas such as: • • •

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Education Business Project Management and more Your Classroom. Anywhere™ | 877-215-0009 Drexel University Online • One Drexel Plaza • 3001 Market St., Suite 300 • Philadelphia, PA 19104

The summer before her senior year as a criminal justice major at Rutgers, Karina Martinez of Lyndhurst, New Jersey, studied child labor laws in Ghana as part of an effort to raise awareness about human rights.

Some universities prepare you for the real world.

At Rutgers, you’re in it.

International Academy

Par tia l schola rships availab le. Apply b efore May 31 .

EF New York Campus

High aspirations call for a global education EF International Academy New York is a private boarding school with a global focus. It offers rigorous academic programs, including the world-renowned International Baccalaureate Diploma curriculum, and its campus is home to students from around the world. Nurturing academic excellence • Pursue the International Baccalaureate Diploma • Prepare for top colleges and universities • Master skills valued in the global marketplace • Governed by EF Education First, a worldwide leader in international education An international experience • Students from over 30 different nations • Experienced faculty members have lived and worked around the world. • Campuses in New York, Oxford and Torbay

Safe and secure campus • Scenic campus in Tarrytown, New York, is 40 minutes by train from Manhattan • Private grounds on Hudson River feature historic buildings and modern facilities • Campus includes science labs, theaters, library, interactive classrooms and full boarding accommodations • Comprehensive sports facilities include fitness center, pool, sports fields, tennis courts and more To request a brochure, e-mail

| New York | Torbay | Oxford | EF International Academy, 100 Marymount Avenue, Butler Hall, Tarrytown, NY 10591 (914) 597-7241,

We chose ridgefield academy Barbara and Stefan Chopin, Weston “From the first moment, we realized RA’s teaching staff are there because they are passionate about educating students. At RA the bar is set higher in terms of curriculum content and quality of students’ output. We are so happy with RA and how it is stretching our daughter that we have enrolled her younger sister for next year.”

Building a strong foundation 20 months through Grade 8 To find out how RA can be the right choice for you contact us at (203) 894.1800 or visit our website

Wilbraham & monson academy a Global experience • The Center for Entrepreneurial & Global Studies • The Mark R. Shenkman interactive trading center • Hands-on entrepreneurial experience through The Global EcoLearn Project® • The advancement of financial intelligence • An extensive travel program to Asia, South America, and Europe • A full AP curriculum • Championship athletics • A fine & performing arts program including theatre, music, fine arts, and dance • College counseling program beginning in sophomore year Founded in 1804, Wilbraham & Monson Academy is a boarding school of 380 students in grades 9-postgraduate. The Academy is dedicated to preparing students for successful competitive college admission and facing the challenge of global leadership.

Please Contact the Office of Admission at 413.596.9108 or 423 Main Street, Wilbraham, MA 01095

SHP’s Biking Adventures LIVE BEYOND THE MOMENT Nothing strikes fear in the hearts of parents like the thought of their teens spending the summer on the sofa watching reruns of Scary Movie. As the summer months approach and the 11th hour arrives, the decision to do something of value is more critical than ever before: Like sending your teen to cycle through the country roads of New England or on the cobblestone streets of Amsterdam. Help your teen Live Beyond the Moment and send them on a SHP Biking Adventure, where they can check out the Tour de France when biking from Amsterdam to Paris, jump in a Vermont lake or bike across the Golden Gate Bridge. They can even bike cross-country!


800-343-6132 or visit

Give your child the summer adventure they crave!

SHP’s Biking Adventures LIVE BEYOND THE MOMENT Nothing strikes fear in the hearts of parents like the thought of their teens spending the summer on the sofa watching reruns of Scary Movie. As the summer months approach and the 11th hour arrives, the decision to do something of value is more critical than ever before: Like sending your teen to cycle through the country roads of New England or on the cobblestone streets of Amsterdam. Help your teen Live Beyond the Moment and send them on a SHP Biking Adventure, where they can check out the Tour de France when biking from Amsterdam to Paris, jump in a Vermont lake or bike across the Golden Gate Bridge. They can even bike cross-country!


800-343-6132 or visit

Give your child the summer adventure they crave!




At The Knox School, everything we do is geared to helping young people become exceptional in the classroom, on the playingfields, and in developing character. We have engaging teachers, small class sizes, and students that care as much about good values as they do about strong academic achievement. At Knox, all our students learn to be exceptional. Contact us at 631-686-1600 or online at


541 Long Beach Rd. St. James, NY 11780 • A Coeducational Independent Boarding and Day School for Grades Six-Post Graduate

Hampshire Country School Rindge, New Hampshire

A small, friendly boarding school for 25 boys. Best entering age: 8 to 11 years old. Students may remain into high school. For the high-ability boy who needs a good education, a manageable world, and an unusual amount of adult attention. 603-899-3325

Open House 1:00pm Friday, November 5, 2010 • Creative, hands-on, interdisciplinary K-8 grade program • Rich, varied arts and culture (dance, theater, drumming, music, art) • Inclusive Quaker values: simplicity, peace, integrity, community, equality and stewardship of the earth • Main campus on five wooded acres; a second, 15-acre campus used as a “living” classroom • Outstanding faculty with advanced degrees and conflict resolution training • Outdoor education and leadership program 317 New Canaan Rd / Wilton, CT 203-762-9860

{COMMUNITY.ROOM} ECO-PARENTING By Krista Richards Mann I WAS WASTEFUL when I was married. After parties, I dumped platters of organic crudités into the garbage, rather than composting or better yet, eating. Diet Coke cans made up a good portion of our garbage. I ran the Swedish washer and dryer constantly and discarded Happy Meal toys along with the kids’ preschool drawings and soiled paper towels. My post-divorce poverty alerted me to my previous excesses. Or perhaps it was Al Gore and global warming or the novelty of organic shampoo; I found comfort in consuming less and less. In the first house I rented, I planted a pumpkin patch and rejected the monoculture or a suburban lawn. I took the kids hiking, as I couldn’t afford amusement parks and movies as their father could. And suddenly it became my “thing” to be green. It wasn’t only that I couldn’t afford to discard Ziploc bags; I didn’t want them to accumulate in landfills for centuries. We ate less meat and started an organic garden plot in the local community garden. I began to write a column for the local news on living a simple and green lifestyle. Never mind that I could afford no other. Meanwhile, Ex decides to start a green building consulting firm. He joins the green energy task force and also begins to write a column in the small town’s other local newspaper. Some weeks, we write about the same topic. We send the kids clothes back and forth in re-usable shopping bags. We are both scheduled to attend meetings on the second Tuesday of the month for the Green Village Initiative. Though, to be honest, I try to arrive a bit late and check for his car in the parking lot before walking in. If he’s there and I’m feeling low, I tend to have a cupcake instead. If I’m angry with him or want to show off, I sit up tall and make clever comments. Most often, I sit in the back and imagine I am somewhere else and that I have my own life where old marriages could be forgotten. He has a girlfriend. But he says they are just friends and insists that the kids and I refer to her as his “best friend.” They’ve spent every weekend together for several years. She helps him with his green business and I’ve done my best to know as little about her as possible. She seems perfectly nice, the kids have no complaints, but I refuse to sit next to them at school plays or birthday parties. He hides things. He’s always had secrets, but now it seems he goes to more effort to conceal. When the kids were showing me their new sleds last winter they also revealed a Costco-sized bundle of Bounty paper towels, but it’s covered with an old tarp. He has bleach in there too, which doesn’t surprise me. He’s terrified of germs and I can’t imagine a gentle soap wipe-down would satisfy. He gave up beef after the British Mad Cow scare and as far as I know hasn’t had a burger since. Yet, he consumes pork and chicken. I want to be better than he is. There is something in me that hates competing with him and yet needs to win. I send the kids’ snacks to

2 7 2 W E S T O N M A G A Z I N E G R O U P. C O M

school in re-usable containers. They drink their water out of aluminum bottles. I bake my own whole grain bread. He gets a new hybrid Prius. I still have the SUV we bought when our daughter was born and so I ride my bicycle around town with the dog in the basket and my hair is sweaty and flat from the helmet. My butt doesn’t look good from behind. A vein runs down the outside of my left leg with a turquoise knot aside my knee. I struggle on hills and try to look straight ahead so that passersby don’t pity. We pick strawberries and make them into jam on the same weekend. He has the kids that weekend. We both give it to teachers at Christmas, not realizing. He is a member of River Keepers; I am a Friend of the Sound. He speaks at conferences about indoor air quality. I dry my laundry on a line. When the Green Village Initiative has a fund-raiser gala, neither of us goes. Though we both have tickets. He bought two. He is comfortable at my house, coming in when he drops off or picks up the kids. I am careful to put away the Cascade. It goes behind the wastebasket under the kitchen sink. I’ve tried all kinds of eco-friendly dishwasher detergents but none works well enough and so I use half as much Cascade. I’ve been nervous purchasing it, hoping not to run into anyone I know at the market. They print my picture next to my column. What if I am recognized? I realize it’s unlikely because I’ve gained a dozen pounds since the headshot and had (of course) brushed my hair that day. He gets his produce from a CSA farm. Last year the tomato crop failed and my own garden tomatoes escaped the blight. I didn’t do anything special to them but for some reason they flourished and my August glut brought me smug pleasure. His shoes are made from recycled materials; the soles are old tires. Mine are just old. I buy toothbrushes made from reclaimed plastic. He has a rechargeable electric lawn mower, mine is a rotary push mower. We both wear organic cotton and drink shade-grown coffee. He brings his used pizza box to the restaurant instead of having them waste another. Rattling around in the back of my car is a bag of number five yogurt containers that I mean to take to Whole Foods for recycling. He replaced his carpet after a small flood with flooring made from recycled plastic bottles. I painted my kitchen in zero VOC paint. It rains on my way home. I am wet and rashy. Mud has streaked my back. I can see it on the sides of my arms. When the wind blows, I shiver. It was warm an hour ago. My thighs hurt. A plastic bag that has been used a dozen times in the basket protects my library books. Cars splash as they drive by. No one stops. The bike slips in a sandy gutter and I fall. I am not hurt. I’m angry. Cars make a wide path around me, crossing the centerlines of Compo Road and staring. Laughing? One is a black Prius and my heart races and I try to straighten my back with dignity, assuming an elegant posture. It’s not him. I am safe. He hasn’t seen me lose. ❉ Krista Richards Mann lives and writes in Westport, Connecticut with two children and a dog.

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upper east side magazine summerfall-2010  

weston magazine group, publisher of 7 hyper-local regional lifestyle magazines serving the affluent northern suburbs of the greater nyc metr...

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