November December 2015 Volume 15 Issue 6

Ferry Tales November December 2015

Budget/Finance—Chuck Darling Building — Marty Petersen Communications

Claire Donohue Community Garden— Edith Hull Country Store— Claire Baer Conservation — Bernie Tunik

Jefferson’s Ferry Tales A publication by, for and about the residents of

Jefferson’s Ferry Life Care Community

[email protected]

The Editorial Board (Jefferson’s Ferry Tales Committee)

Margaret Pols, Editor

Martin Bellin Siri Bergheim Dolores Cammarata

Dom Commisso Barbara Doxey Ken Draigh

Gloria Lancaster Marty Petersen Claire Reilly

Alice Rhodes Hank Ryon Bob Spann

Joyce Edward, Liaison

Technical Assistance: Fred Romeo

Writers: YOU, the residents of Jefferson’s Ferry

Editor Emeritus: Roy Miller

Committees of the Council and Chairpersons

The 2015 Residents Council

Carol Fenter, Chairperson Forrest McMullen,Vice Chairperson

Colette Mayer, Corr. Secretary Claire Donohue, Recording Secretary

Hank Sparhuber, Treasurer Joyce Edward

Caroline Levine Marcia Jefferson Bob Spann

Dining Services Christina Carroll

Election Milton Lodge Exhibit Barbara Strongin Grounds Doug Brush Health Issues Caroline Levine JF Tales Margaret Pols Library Naomi Prach

Public Affairs Barbara Strongin Social Activities Ellen Braunstein Sunshine Jane Goor Chris Procopio Welcoming — Noel Burks Workshop —Marty Petersen

mailto:[email protected]

November December 2015 Ferry Tales

By CECILE SPARHUBER

T here were lots of advantages to growing up in a large family. One of the best parts was the fact that we had a family orches-tra.

Dad was our maestro and a tal-ented clarinetist. The oldest member, Tonia, was on the pi-ano, Gabe and Mike, on the clari-net. Dad was partial to clarinets and besides, he could be a spe-cial tutor. Seems we needed a brass section when I came along, so I was assigned the trumpet. Betty was on the violin; George, on the French horn, Thecla banged away on the drums and later played the piano.

Our public engagements consist-ed of local little concerts, school functions, and talent shows. Sometimes, a very young priest, Fr. St. Onge, joined us on the violin to add ”gravitas” to our little group.

Many Sunday afternoon outings with friends were sacrificed to Dad’s call to practice the likes of “Sobre Las Olas” and “Pomp and Circumstance.” A few times my friend Hank came calling on such a practice day and would end up on the front porch, keeping com-pany with my mother. He al-ways said he fell in love with my mother.

Dad also conducted the Silver Bell Band in Van Buren, Maine. Sitting in the bandstand was eas-ier than playing and marching to

the likes of “The Thun-derer,” “Stars and Stripes,” “American Patrol” and other Sou-sa num-bers.

Tonia went on to grad-uate from the New England Conserva-tory of Mu-sic in Boston. She also took up the cello there and briefly played with Dad and the Ed-munston Symphony in N.B. Canada. Eventually, Tonia moved to California and gave piano lessons until she turned 80.

Betty thrilled her Irish hus-band with her Irish jigs. Mike took over Dad’s small music store and made a huge suc-cess with it. He moved the business to larger quarters in town and increased his sales area via a circulating French and English catalog. His duty-free offer was attractive to his Canadian customers.

Peter, who was too young to join our little family orchestra grew up to be very musically gifted … guitar and banjo. When he joined the Air Force, I gave him my trumpet and he joined his Air Force March-ing Band.

In 1959 when I married Hank,

Dad walked me down the aisle and then hurried off to the choir loft where he serenaded us with moving numbers like “Panis Angelicus” and “Ave Ma-ria.” Dad and family members also played at our wedding re-ception.

I can still picture my Dad prac-ticing his clarinet late into the evening in the far-away kitchen and I can still hear him. I miss my Dad. He was a great man.

Welcome to a Special Edition

Let’s Make Music!

We were thrilled to hear from so many talented (and maybe not so much) residents. We hope you enjoy all their efforts.


.

By BARBARA LIVANT

M usic, especially classical music, has always been a part of my life. My father must get most of the credit, or the blame, if you like, for my taste in music. From my earliest age, I was exposed almost exclusive-ly to classical music.

We had a Steinway grand piano in our home for as long as I can remember. I heard that as newlyweds, my parents bought the piano before they bought a washing machine – but I don’t know if that’s true. My dad, who was largely self-taught, would sit down at the piano and play whenever he had a spare moment, mostly Chopin, I think.

Music lessons started for me and my two older sisters when I was about eight years old. Ruth, the oldest, started cello lessons; Caroline took up the violin, and I began piano les-sons and continued through high school. I added the violin in junior high so I could play in the orchestra.

Whenever there was a lull in the live music in our home, Dad would put on a record. He was constantly striving to improve the sound-quality of his record player. How he would have loved today’s technology!

In addition to music in the home, we regularly attended concerts in Memorial Hall where we heard many world-famous musicians.

Although my mother was not an active participant in our music- making, she was an ardent sup-porter of it, both at home and in the community. Two events come to mind. First, the writer, Catherine Drinker Bowen, came to town to give a lecture. Moth-er learned that she liked to play in string quartets, so she invited three local musicians for an afternoon of quartet music with Mrs. Bowen. Second, the duo-pianists Whitmore and Lowe gave a concert one evening. They somehow got invited to our house following the concert. Mom pulled a steak out of the freezer and fixed them dinner, which I’m sure was much appre-ciated.

I played violin in orchestras throughout high school and col-lege and continued until I got married. My husband and I settled on Long Island, where we raised three children and I taught high school. For many years I was just too busy for my violin.

I finally picked up my violin again about fifteen years ago. My hus-band had passed away, my chil-dren had left home, and I was retired from my teaching job. I had time!

My friend, Nina Friedberg, asked me to play in a string quartet with her, Marguerite Sailor and Robert Haas. She also intro-duced me to Marni Harris, a vio-lin teacher, who inspired me to keep playing and improving. About that same time I joined the Island Symphony Orchestra. I still take lessons from Marni and

I still play in the orchestra.

The highpoint of my musical career was the celebration of my seventy-fifth birthday, ten years ago. At Marni’s urging I hosted a “Mostly Baroque Mostly Violin June Recital”, fea-turing myself, along with friends and family. First, I needed a venue. When I men-tioned what I wanted to do to Ralph Buchnam, a fellow violin-ist, he immediately said, “Have it at my house”. And I did! Ralph lived in a large house in Huntington. His living room included a grand piano and more than enough space for my guests. Ann Smith, my Scottish dance teacher and a profession-al caterer, handled the refresh-ments, which everyone en-joyed. In addition to my pieces, my daughter Mary played Pur-cell’s Rondeau on the recorder with my sister Judy on piano; my string quartet played Minu-etto from Quartett by Hayden, and Marni and I played Bach’s double violin concerto.

Since coming to Jefferson’s Fer-ry, I’ve enjoyed playing with several other residents— Max Saltzman and I have played vio-lin-mandolin duets together, and I’ve been part of the Jeffer-son Ferry Ensemble, with Dom Procopio on harmonica, Carl Himmelmann on violin, Bob Spann on piano, Max on man-dolin and me. I’ve also had the opportunity to play for the chil-dren from Little Flower when they come to visit Jefferson’s Ferry. I hope to be able to con-tinue to play for you now and then.


By CLAIRE REILLY

A bout a week before my fifth Christmas, a City Health Department nurse nailed a Quarantine notice to the front door of our Bronx apartment. The diagnosis was Scarlet Fe-ver; the patient was me. There were no drugs to work won-ders then; time and isolation were the weapons, along with a dark, malevolent potion called Argyrol, with which my throat was painted. It was an experience closer to torment than treatment.

Only my mother could enter my room and she had to disin-fect her hands each time with Lysol. I was not too sick to en-joy the awe on the faces of my two brothers, Walter, nine, and Gene, seven, when my mother lifted the curtain and let them look in at me through the glass French door that led from my room to the living room. In their eyes, I had un-dergone a transformation; from a little pest, to a pale, endangered princess, leaning weakly against white pil-lows; from a nobody, to the focus of a radiating concern that reached past family, friends, neighbors, all the way downtown to city officials in white uniforms who found their way to our home.

Christmas continued beyond my bedroom; in fact, my father hung a holly wreath around the hated sign on the door. But the joy I took in my

Crayola crayons, paper dolls, books. But the tree was the best of all, and the poem, tied with a red ribbon to a branch, which described “this towering majestic evergreen” with its “munificent bounty of golden fruit” as “a token of our love and esteem.” It had been cre-ated and written by my two brothers who, as it turned out, were the originators and pro-ducers of the whole scheme.

And, of course, it could only happen with the collaboration and blessing of the rest of the family, whose tree that year, as I later discovered when the cur-tain on my bedroom door was drawn back to reveal it, had an oddly truncated shape. It rose in a lovely triangle for about six feet and then ended abruptly, in a flat, starless summit.

new importance vanished at the moment I suddenly realized I would be denied the exquisite happiness of running into the living room on Christmas morn-ing and seeing the tree that magically appeared there over-night every year.

Christmas without a tree was impossible. The thought of it started a flood of tears that all the doctor’s ministrations, the fiery sore throat, the aching head and tantalizing rash had not managed to unleash. Noth-ing could console me. Nothing could make up for Christmas without a tree. I was promised that the tree would be placed in the living room so that I could see it through the glass door, but I wanted to smell it and touch it. Never before had I felt such lethargy on Christmas Eve. Never since have I been so surprised on Christmas morn-ing.

I opened my eyes to see a tree of my own, a small perfect pyr-amid of dark green pine stand-ing on my dresser in a clear glass milk bottle filled, to keep it straight, with my brothers’ treasured store of marbles, as precious to them as the emer-alds, rubies and sapphires they became, shining under the spotlight of a bright winter sun. My tree was decorated with oranges and walnuts and garlanded all around with a red and green paper chain. At its tip was the silver star that had always crowned our tree. There were presents, too, quiet toys, a new box of 64

MERRY LITTLE CHRISTMAS!

SPEAKING OF HOLIDAYS

Don’t forget to write your check to the Holiday Gift Fund for our staff members. It’s our opportunity to say “Thank You” for all the ser-vice provided throughout the year. Make checks payable to Jefferson’s Ferry Founda-tion,, memo line HOLIDAY STAFF GIFT FUND, and put them in the box at the Recep-tion Desk.

Ferry Tales 2013November December 2015

By DOM COMMISSO

“Beat Me Daddy, Eight to the Bar”, “Boogie-Woogie Bugle Boy” and “Scrub Me Mama with a Boogie Beat” were some of the big hits in the ear-ly 1940’s, but they were not real boogie-woogie music; they were pop tunes set to a boogie beat. A boogie-woogie craze had hit the nation after the three giants of boogie-woogie. Pete Johnson, Albert Ammons and Meade Lux Lewis had played at the 1938 and 1939 “Spirituals to Swing” jazz concerts at Carnegie Hall.

But boogie-woogie had been around long before that. Most accounts place it in the late 1800’s and claim it originated in eastern Texas near the Loui-siana border where there were many lumber and turpentine camps worked by African-Americans. Since these work-ers were barred from white establishments due to Jim Crow laws, they would gather at roadside “juke joints” or “barrelhouses” to drink, dance and gamble to the sounds of a boogie-woogie piano player after work.

Eventually, the style made its way to New Orleans and other points south where it didn’t seem to gain much popularity. Following World War I, a great migration of Afro-Americans from New Orleans and sur-rounding areas moved up and alongside the Mississippi River

with eight beats to the meas-ure while the right hand is free to improvise whatever the player chooses, usually at the higher end of the scale (treble). This sets up a pleas-ant contrast between right

and left hands. It is mostly played at a fast tempo (once referred to as “fast western style music”) but can be played at a slow tempo with a real

bluesy feeling. Once you hear boogie woogie being played, you will always recognize it, no matter how it is played. And if a driving boogie doesn’t get your foot or fin-gers tapping to it, check your pulse!

Trains were a popular theme for boogie music, with Meade Lux Lewis’ “Honky Tonk Train Blues” by far the most popu-lar, which is very suggestive of a moving train. Some say the reason for that was that the sound created by the wheels as it clicked and clacked over the separation between rails and the mo-mentum of a moving train suggested a rocking beat. An-other reason was the fact that trains were seen by Afro-Americans as a way of escape from the segregation of the south. Trains also provided employment to Afro-

to Chicago in search of work, and they brought their music with them. It was there that boogie-woogie became popu-lar. It was often played at honky–tonks in the South Side and at rent parties. The first record label to contain the words “boogie-woogie” on it was by Pine Top Smith in 1928. On it, he is heard shouting out instructions to the dancers on how to boogie.

Unfortunately, the fol-lowing year when Pine Top was playing at a dance hall, a gun fight erupted and he was killed by a stray bullet. In a trib-ute to Pine Top, Tommy Dorsey recorded “Pine Top’s Boogie Woogie” in 1938 and it became one of his biggest hits. In the following years the boogie beat, which began as a strictly piano style, became adapted to big band music (Hamp’s Boo-gie), small groups, vocalists (Andrew Sisters), country and western (Shotgun Boogie) and even to classical music (Morton Gould’s “Boogie Woogie Etude”.) By the 1950’s its popu-larity began to wane, but it is still very much played by con-temporary pianists. (Europeans love it.)

So what is boogie-woogie? It is rather hard to describe in words, but I will try. It is basi-cally a blues-based piano style in which the left hand plays a heavy rolling or rocking bass

November December 2015 Ferry Tales 2013

with such soul that it is amaz-ing! Just go to bing.com and type “Silvan Zingg” in the search box and a page will pop up with 8 links to “You Tube” videos. Click on “Dancin’ the Boogie” and “Honky-Tonk Train Blues” and enjoy!

African-American; in fact, he is not an American at all! His name is Silvan Zingg and he was born and raised in Switzerland, but if you didn’t know that, you would swear he was an African-American from our deep south. His playing is so authentic and

Americans as porters, conduc-tors and baggage handlers.

Anyone with an internet con-nection can hear (and see) for themselves what I am talking about. Oddly enough, the two videos that I would recommend watching were not made by an

WHAT WOULD MY FATHER SAY?

By CHRIS PROCOPIO

O n a lovely Saturday morning in September 2015, Longwood Central School District in nearby Middle Island held a ceremony to honor Jefferson’s Ferry resident, Dr. Lou Nannini, the district’s first superintendent. An impres-sive sign in front of the admin-istration building read:

Longwood Central School District

Dr. Louis V. Nannini,

Central Administration Campus

Many school dignitaries were present as were former teachers, students and parents. Each had a personal tale to tell of the posi-tive impact Lou had made on their lives as they recalled the difficulties of creating the school district in 1959.

There had been five elementary schools in different towns within 53 square miles in Central Suffolk. When students graduat-ed they all attended high school in Port Jefferson. But as the num-ber of students grew, a bold new plan was needed. It was de-cided that the five schools would be joined in a new school district.

Lou was hired to make it hap-pen.

With the help of many resi-dents, the plan was approved with a 70% majority vote on the school budget. Land was donated by a resident Elbert Smith, and a junior and senior high school were built.

The first graduating class was in 1964, and pride and joy was evident among the parents, students and faculty who la-bored so diligently for this mo-ment to come to fruition.

Lou, in his humble manner, re-sponded to the honor, saying that he could not have done it alone, and how he had en-gaged the various residents of the five very diverse communi-ties as they became Longwood

Central Schools. He explained that his goal had been to gather a di-versified, stimulating instructional professional staff, competent sup-port staff, involved parents and residents, and to assure that each group would have a voice in the decision-making process where appropriate.

To the audience gathered at the event, Lou said, “This valued hon-or which is being awarded today must be shared by parents, stu-dents, faculty and the Board of Education who made it happen. Collectively we say, ‘Thank You.’”

To his friends at Jefferson’s Ferry, Lou said, “I think of my father, as he stepped off the boat from Italy. I wonder what he would have thought if someone told him his son would have a school building named for him!”


By ALICE RHODES

“Music, children and animals are three essentials that can greatly contribute to the well-being and happiness of resi-dents in any Health Care facili-ty.” So began my conversation with Jennifer Barrett, Director of Therapeutic Recreation, in the Bove Health Center. Jen has been a certified music ther-apist for many years.

“Over the years, these three essentials have been part of our life here at Bove. Children bring fun and pleasure as they sing and interact with the resi-dents for holidays and special events. Therapy dogs are fre-quent and welcome visitors, bringing affection and joy to many former pet owners. And most of all, musicians - pianists and singers have tirelessly en-tertained, and volunteers have played their mandolins, har-monicas and guitars for the residents’ delight.”

Musical memory is profoundly linked to emotions, and these memories are stored deep in the brain. Although medical factors may damage ability to recall facts and details, the lasting connections between a favorite song and the memory of an important live event – no matter how long ago – are not destroyed. In recognition of this, Jen went on to describe the fascinating details of an innovative music program initi-ated at Bove.

Music and Memory is a pro-

gram whose goal is “to bring personalized music into the lives of the elderly or infirm through digital music technol-ogy, vastly improving quality of life.” The company’s Exec-utive Director, Dan Cohen, has conducted extensive studies of the therapeutic advantages of using this technology. An award-winning documentary produced by Cohen called “Alive Inside” was launched at the Sundance Music Festival in 2014. This very moving film (available from Netflix) follows the effects of the iPod pro-gram on skilled nursing resi-dents.

The key to the program is to develop a personalized music playlist for each individual, and to record it on an iPod. To create the playlists, Jen and her staff work with residents and family members to learn about an individual’s favorite music.

Jen said that almost every va-riety of music can be request-ed – some surprising. “I spoke to one resident who wanted only modern music of the 70’s or 80’s – nothing else – so we gave her a selection including John Denver, the Carpenters, Abba, the Mamas and the Pa-pas and others from that era. In contrast, a retired piano teacher was interested in only classical music, while another resident preferred nothing but spirituals.”

After discovering what specific type of music that person loves, a totally customized

playlist is created. When the music on the list is secured, it is downloaded to an iPod. The iPod of choice is the iPod Shuffle which can hold up to 300 songs. A one-inch clip-on device is attached to head-phones, enabling the resident to listen to his or her own per-sonally preferred music.

Jen explained, “A program like Music and Memory in a thera-peutic environment has many important benefits. Music de-creases restlessness, allowing individuals to become more engaged with those around them, thus promoting greater socialization. Musical favorites decrease agitation and provide a distraction from anxiety. Mu-sic also blocks out noise, re-placing often confusing envi-ronmental stimuli with a sooth-ing familiar experience. Music can increase energy, allowing the individual to become more active. And of great benefit, someone who has been sad or depressed may feel happier. There is also a great deal of re-search demonstrating that mu-sic can reduce pain, lower blood pressure and help with sleep.”


essary for the staff. This semi-nar would be held for three days – sessions to run two hours each day.

Having succeeded so admira-bly with his project, he was awarded his Eagle Scout rank in a ceremony held in the Jefferson’s Ferry theater, and was then given a much de-served party by his family. This fine young man left Jen a $600.00 surplus to keep the project going, as well as the gratitude of those whose lives would be enriched because of his dedication and hard work.

No words of ours can compare with the reaction of the family of one of the residents of Bove: “I was truly amazed at my Mother’s response to the program. When Jennifer Bar-rett first suggested this thera-py as a way to alleviate my Mother’s anxiety, I was dubi-ous. I remember telling Jen-nifer that I didn’t think that my Mom would adapt to or feel comfortable with the headphones. I’ll never forget the morning that Jen showed up with them. Not only did Mom feel immediately com-fortable, the music brought an immediate smile to her face and provided instant relaxa-tion. After a while she knew that the music would help her and she looked forward to it every day”.

On behalf of our fellow resi-dents, Thank you, Jen, and Thank You, Leland.

When Leland received approv-al to proceed with his project, the hard work really began. Leland was solely responsible for all the money and equip-ment to start up the project. Now he had to plan and facili-tate all aspects of the project, including finances. To accom-plish this, he organized several activities including car washes in his neighborhood and an iPod drive in his high school.

It was a huge undertaking, and after a year, Leland was ready. He came to Bove bringing a donation of 20 iPods, a lap- top, cash and an extra $200.00 in gift cards for the iTunes website.

The final step for Leland was to organize a Music and Memory seminar, setting up meeting times for each session and co-ordinating all the training nec-

To implement such a program requires a great deal of plan-ning and a lot of just plain hard work. Help came in the form of a volunteer, a young man seeking to achieve the status of Eagle Scout in the Boy Scouts, who, coinci-dentally was the grandson of a Jefferson’s Ferry resident.

Leland Reisfield is the grand-son of our neighbor, Eleanor Orthun. When Leland was 16 years old he was deeply in-volved in Boy Scout activities in his home state of Mary-land. In order to become an Eagle Scout, he needed to create and carry out a major project. When he heard of the Music and Memory pro-gram, Leland immediately realized that this would be an amazing project for him to pursue. And what better place to begin than his grand-mother’s new home in Jeffer-son’s Ferry? Thus began the year-long preparation to make his project a success.

The first step was for Leland to secure the approval of an Eagle Scout Board. He had to submit a detailed proposal outlining the planning strate-gy for the project, demon-strating his leadership and organizational qualities. There were frequent inter-views where he had to “state his case” before the Board. Meanwhile, Jen Barrett was at work seeking the advice and consent of her colleagues and administrators here.

Eagle Scout, Leland Reisfield


Deanna Levin-sky

As an assistant principal in the New York City school system, I was working

with the fifth and sixth graders on a holiday mu-sical program. The custodian whispered the horrific news to me, and I felt unable to contin-ue practicing cheerful music. With an assembly of 12 teach-ers and over 350 students fac-ing me, my mind raced as to how to announce this tragedy without causing a panic. After discussing the assassination and its implications as best I could, we paused for a minute of silence and respect. I ex-plained to the children that our nation was safe and that our wise forefathers had planned for our future. We sang several patriotic songs and marched out of the audi-torium, led by the school hon-or guard.

Ken Draigh

On November 22, 1963, I was a Peace Corps vol-unteer living in the city of Are-

quipa, Peru. Since I had no means of communication – no telephone, no TV, no radio – I was not aware of the assassi-nation until later that evening. A Peruvian friend came to my home to tell me the news. I went into the city center

What were you doing in the afternoon of November 22, 1963, the day of President Kennedy’s assassina-tion? We asked this question of several residents. Here are their responses:

David Moran –

On November 22, 1963, I was working for Western Electric in Queens. My mother called me to tell me to turn on my ra-dio. “The President has been shot!” she said. Others in the office were turning on their radi-os as well. Quickly everything in the entire building came to a halt. We all went into the con-ference room where there was a TV. Many people – men and women were crying. Not know-ing who did it, people’s minds were running wild thinking WW III was about to start. We were allowed to go home and the building emptied out in a short amount of time. A day never to be forgotten!

Faith Littlefield

In 1963 I was living in Ruther-ford, N.J. On November 22, I was driving on Route 3, head-ing home. I was listening to the radio when the horrible news was an-nounced. Pres-ident Kennedy had been shot! I and all the others on the road were in shock. Everyone slowed down and then stopped entirely. People, including myself, were crying as the details were an-nounced. A man in the car next to me yelled over “What’s happening?” After I told him, he banged his fists on the steering wheel in disbelief. After about ten minutes traffic started to move again at a snail’s pace. I’ve been on that road many times since then and always think of that tragic day.

Forrest McMullen

I was in a meeting with colleagues at Elmont Memori-al Junior-Senior High School on November 22,

1963, when I learned that Pres-ident Kennedy had been shot. Business was suspended, of course, and attention was fo-cused on the news. Shortly after 2:00 p.m. EST, we learned the sad news of the President’s

where I could read the head-lines of the newspapers. Eve-rywhere I went Peruvian strangers would stop me to tell me how sorry they were that this had happened. This continued for several days. I was amazed at the impact that this tragedy had on the feelings and emotions of the Peruvian people. The Inter-national Club had invited all the approximately 30 Ameri-cans living in the city to a tra-ditional American Thanksgiv-ing Day dinner. Out of respect for the President the dinner was cancelled .


death. School was to be dis-missed in less than an hour. The issue for the administration was whether or not to inform stu-dents via the public address sys-tem. We decided students would be safer if they became aware of the assassination after reaching home. In this day of I-phones and cell phones such a decision would not be possible.

Dom Commisso

As you know, it was JFK that initi-ated the moon landing program in May of 1962. I

had not started to work for Grumman yet, but in Novem-ber 22, 1963 I was at my drawing board working on the Lunar Module when word came that the President had been shot and had died. After pondering what this would mean for the country, a frightening thought occurred to us all- OMG is the moon landing project going to be canceled? Are we going to be out of a job? Fortunately, President Johnson was as en-thusiastic about continuing the program as JFK had been, so our work continued.

Margaret Pols

In November of 1963 I was study-ing for my Mas-ters at Columbia

University. As usual, I had parked my car near the river at the end of 125th Street and was scheduled to attend a class at 1 PM. As we entered the build-ing, there was a rumor going around that Kennedy had been shot. We proceeded to our class, and the professor began his lecture, but after a few minutes, overcome with emo-tion, he was unable to contin-ue and dismissed the class. As I headed down the hill toward my car, I heard the great, deep-throated bell of Riverside Church mournfully tolling, bong, bong, bong…. Its mes-sage was clear. Our President had died.

In a future issue, our Roving Reporter question will be

What was the best (or worst) gift you ever received? What made it so special?

If you’d like to write a short answer to this question, contact Siri Bergheim, phone 2909.

By MARTY PETERSEN

T he Bove Health Center is big on music, thanks in part to many volunteers from Independent Living who work with Jen Bar-rett to share their love of music. I lead the singing at both the Terrace and at the Assisted Liv-ing Happy Hour on Wednesdays. For ten years, Jennifer and I have been singing at the Friday afternoon Happy Hour. Helen Kethman and friends lead a sing-a-long on Tuesday afternoons.

Professionals, too, come to the

Bove Center. Up to four times a month, musicians are em-ployed to entertain residents vocally and instrumentally.

Educational music programs are offered as well. Jennifer, who has a BS in music thera-py, presents seminars intro-ducing a different composer each month to demonstrate different aspects of classical music. The works of Beetho-ven, Bach, Mozart, Chopin and others have been pre-sented. Jen has also intro-duced the residents to opera, ballet and music development

over the centuries. For fun she leads “Name That Tune” using the piano, lyrics or guitar. The residents do very well at nam-ing the tunes and then singing them.

Singing is also included in Cath-olic, Protestant and Jewish reli-gious services. In addition, groups from schools, churches, Scouts etc. come in to entertain during the holidays and at other times.

We’re always looking for more volunteers to join us. Just give Jen a call.

JOIN THE MUSIC AT BOVE


By SIRI BERGHEIM

L abor Day was going to be different, very different this year. The last, and youngest, of my three daughters was moving to join her two sisters in Colorado. And I was upset. Of course, if this was what she wanted to do, I was all for it. But what about me? No kids coming in and out? No discus-sions about whatever? The house was going to be quiet – finally!

This situation needed some thought. And, then, what had been in the back of my mind for years was now possible. I would have the time. I would have the energy. But, at 55, was I too old? Did I have any talent? I did have a “good ear”.

And that’s why and how I be-gan to fulfill my lifelong dream to play the violin. I did ask Evie, the string teacher in my school, what she thought. She said, “Of course it’s possible. But remember you will never be really good. Your fingers are too old, as is your brain”. Now some people think that was a terrible thing to tell me. But it wasn’t. Now I knew that no matter how hard I tried I’d never be like Jascha Heifetz. I could only be as good as I could be, and I was OK with that.

And so I started with a school violin and with third graders who, like me, had never held a violin in their hands. As Evie handed me my violin, she said lessons would begin in about

two weeks. I did pluck the strings and tried to use the bow. Why couldn’t I get a sound? At my first lesson I learned you have to “tighten the bow”. That was Lesson One. And so the weeks went by. I practiced eve-ry day and when I did my hus-band would retreat to the cellar and our cat would go outdoors. It was pretty awful. Well, at the end of the school year we had a concert. The beginners played first. We did quite well although I did lose my place, mo-mentarily, when we played “Mary Had a Little Lamb.”

After that first year I found a private teacher to give me les-sons. I wonder now at her pa-tience. I found out, quickly, that having a “good ear” was not enough – really, really not enough. I had to learn the strings. I had to learn the notes and where they were on the strings and that A - G had sharps and flats – sharps higher, flats lower – generally. I had to learn the value of notes; whole notes, half notes. I had to learn what 4/4 time was or 2/4, etc. I had to learn another language; An-dante, Presto, Largo, Poco a po-co. And the hardest thing was to use that “good ear” to make sure my fingers were correctly placed.

The biggest thing I learned, however, was humility. I had been a 3rd grade teacher for many years and had been very patient with that little kid who had trouble learning to read, or the one who simply could not figure out how to subtract. Now here I was trying so hard with

my violin, and some of the 3rd graders were far better than I.

I continued to take lessons. When I was about 60 years old I heard of an orchestra where the rules were 1) anyone can join, 2) only classical music was played and 3) no auditions. Was it arrogance that gave me the nerve to sign up? Or stu-pidity! Anyway, I did sign up.

The first rehearsal – I can’t begin to tell you how that went for me. They were play-ing real music, by famous com-posers, at a speed that I could-n’t even hear, much less play. Beautiful music, not only vio-lins, but also drums and clari-nets, trombones and trumpets, celli and bass fiddles – high notes, low notes – notes to make you laugh – notes to make you cry. And I couldn’t even follow it with my eyes. Disaster! Should I quit? But I really wanted to play this beautiful music – to be part of this group.

No one laughed at me. No one asked me to leave. I sat next to an old man who played beautifully. He helped and en-couraged me. And so, here I am, years later, still playing in the orchestra. Am I really good? No. Will I ever solo? No. I do the best I can. So, if ever the Island Symphony Or-chestra, conducted by Dr. Howard Cinnamon, plays any-where nearby, come and hear us. We’re terrific!


By BOB SPANN

L ike many communities on Long Island, Port Washington included individuals devoted to music who formed choral groups and theater companies. Our “Port Singers,” in addition to a fall concert of classical composi-tions, presented a Broadway musical each spring. For ten years, I enjoyed being a part of amateur productions of various shows.

We would give four performances with a full orchestra, com-plete scenery, staging and lighting. Six months before the show we would start painting scenery, rehearsing our parts and songs, and learning our dance steps. A local resident who had done some cho-reagraphic work on Broadway provided our dance routines and rehearsal instruction.

In my first performance, “Show Boat,” I was just a member of the cast but it was enough to get over stage jitters and learn to enjoy singing and dancing before an audience. The following years I went on to sing and dance in 10 musicals.

My most challenging part was as Andrew Carnes in Oklahoma. I led off the second act singing a solo with the chorus, “The Farmer and the Cowman” be-

fore 600 people.

One of my hobbies over the years was to speak in dia-lects. I had a chance to practice this in Brigadoon where we had to speak in a Scottish accent. I had to be careful not to slip into an Irish dialect. In My Fair La-dy I played 3 parts. Each character had a different English accent from Cock-ney to upper British class.

My acting was not flawless. I remember in Mame I com-pletely forgot my lines in a conversation with a young lady. Just blank! In such situations we are trained to improvise lines in interac-tion with your partner. We came up with some amaz-ing lines until we got back on track.

In Brigadoon we were for-bidden to wear wrist watch-es or eyeglasses because they had not been invented yet. I was very careful, but

one time I went on stage alone with a document I was thrusting into the air with loud proclamation. I very proudly raised my arm, the watch on my wrist in full view of the au-dience. I also had my glasses on! What do you do? Well, you just carry on as if nothing were amiss. On stage there are no retakes. But I did hear from the director!

There are also incidents that needed to be hidden from the audience. I played in one dra-ma with the Port Play Troop in “Inherit the Wind.” As the judge, I sat behind the judicial bench with a pitcher of water. Just before the act began, the stage is dark, the curtain is drawn. The actors take their place in preparation for the cur-tain to open. As I take my place at the bench I accidently hit the water pitcher, shattering it to the floor and spilling water all over including my chair seat with an indented form fitting bottom, and the curtain is going up! No time to clean up. And I had the opening words. What to do? Well I could do nothing but take my seat and sit in the pool of water, soaking the backside of my judicial robe and my pants as the curtain rose and the stage lights came on brightly. And that was the way I acted my part to the end of the act, with my bottom soaking wet.

ORCHESTRA REHEARSAL

Ferry TalesNovember December 2015

(H) “I want to sit over here because I can’t see.”

(D) “All the violins have to sit together. Let’s get started now. Turn to the first song.”

(H) “I don’t have that song. Oh yes, here it is on the back of the pile.” (dropping the pile of papers on the floor.) “Sorry.”

(D) “Wait for me to give you the beat, and watch me for the timing.”

(H) “I can’t see you from back here.”

(D) “FIND A PLACE WHERE YOU CAN SEE ME.”

(H) (Muttering) “You don’t have to yell at me.”

After the first rehearsal, frus-trated D. says,

“Well, we have 10 more re-hearsals before our concert on May 15, so we should be OK. Remember, we meet at 2 PM next week so be on time.”

“When is our concert?”

“I just told you. May 15.”

“When is our next rehearsal?”

“NEXT TUESDAY AT 2 PM. Don’t be late.”

“I can’t make it then. I have a

A Chronicle by Anymouse

This came to us from a fictitious CCRC by an author who prefers to remain anonymous.

DIRECTOR (D): “This is our first rehearsal, and I will be handing out copies of the pieces we will be playing. They are in order, and I will go through them page by page, to make sure everyone has every page. “

HAND goes up (H): “Will we get our own copy or will we have to share?”

(D) “Everyone will have a copy. You won’t have to share. OK First piece, page one. OK? Page 2…, OK that completes the first piece. Any questions?”

(H): “I don’t have page 4 of the third piece.”

(D) “There is no page 4 of the third piece. And for now we’re working on the FIRST piece. OK Let’s get started. Everyone take your place and sit together in your section so you can hear each other’s parts. Men, please move up to the row behind the women.”

hair appointment.”

After the ninth rehearsal, D says, “We will be OK, but re-member, next week is our dress rehearsal and anyone who is not at the dress re-hearsal cannot play in the concert, Also, the uniform for the concert is black bottoms with white tops, with men wearing black bow-ties.”

“Do we wear these clothes to the dress rehearsal?”

“No, you can wear your regu-lar clothes at the dress re-hearsal.”

“Then why call it a DRESS re-hearsal?”

(Director just shakes his head.)

“May I wear a white dress with black stripes? It makes me look thinner.”

“NO! BLACK BOTTOMS AND WHITE TOPS!”

“When is the concert?”

“May 15.”

“I can’t make it, I have a hair appointment.”

The concert goes off wonder-fully and everyone is happy, including the audience.

The Director, in an aside to the pianist, “I’ll see you next year.”


By MARGARET POLS

M y apartment in Irvington-on-Hudson, NY was less than a block away from the Hudson River. The front window framed a view of the Tappan Zee Bridge (like many of us, younger and prettier then) and the Palisades on the opposite shore. A short distance away was a lovely little park right on the water where you could take a stroll or have a picnic, and where, from time to time, the community gathered to celebrate a holiday, complete with fireworks.

There was a beach, but you couldn’t swim there. You could take out a boat, but there were no edible fish to be found in the river. The water was polluted by PCB’s from an up-river manufacturing plant, and contaminated by oil tank-ers which sailed north to use the river water to clean out their tanks after delivering their cargoes of oil.

Then came Pete Seeger and the sloop Clearwater. The boat would come to the shoreline in towns like Dobbs Ferry, Peekskill and Beacon. And there would be a concert, with all of us singing along with Pete those wonderful “protest” songs – Where Have All the Flowers Gone? Turn, Turn, Turn. Always an activist, Seeger used those concerts to raise the consciousness of in-dividuals and towns about what was happening to our

river, and as a result of his efforts and his music, things began to change. A superfund was created to clean up the debris from the factory (a work which continues to this day); ships were prohibit-ed from using the river as a slop-sink. Several towns got together and hired a “River Keeper,” and his little boat could often be seen plying the river, watching for any sort of pollution. Before I moved away in 1988, nets for the collec-tion of shad, now deemed edible, could be seen stretched across the river.

None of this, I believe, would have been accomplished with-out the music. Cleaning up the river was not the only issue ad-dressed by the musicians of that time. Instead of ballads about boy meets girl, heart-break or idyllic love, our best-sellers were now songs like We Shall Overcome, Little Boxes, and If I Had a Hammer. Seeger, along with others like Peter, Paul and Mary, were always in trouble for singing about things that needed to be changed, but the end result was, change did happen.

Calling attention to injustice, criticizing war, raising environ-mental issues was not new for folk musicians. But by taking the music into places where it had not previously gone, the folk singers of the 70’s and 80’s made us all a part of those efforts. Because of that music, changes took place in our soci-ety for which we and future generations can be thankful.

CHRISTMAS SHOPPING by SHEILA BLUM

Christmas shopping is something that most of us dread

Due to certain predictions of chaos ahead

Such as stocks disappearing in front of our eyes

Like the sweater that's perfect, but not the right size

And the hand-knitted mitten that's missing its mate

And the set of ten glasses, on sale, that has eight

And the Byzantine vase with its visible crack

And I've decided, once more, that I'll never go back.

I suppose I'll just send Christmas cookies again

So I'm heating the oven. God help me. Amen.

By DORIS ANNE

MCMULLEN

C omparisons and contrasts often are clearer at a later time and from a different perspective. Such is the case for me now as I recall two piano concerts per-formed for two different radio stations, WNYC and BBC.

On a November Saturday after-noon in the 1950’s I popped out of a New York City subway with teenage enthusiasm and headed for the WNYC studio in the Wall Street area. There were no peo-ple on the street. My father was working and my mother wanted to listen at home to my perfor-mance on the Young American Artist Series to which I had been invited. I was confident, pre-pared, ready to go… and alone.

A gentleman at the lobby desk escorted me to the recording studio, a small, black room with just about enough space for me, the grand piano and several mi-crophones. One played at the moment, live and with no pre-liminary tape that could be edit-ed for “perfection” (if there is such.)

The recording engineer waved a hand from his glass-enclosed booth to signal he was ready for a sound test to determine the dynamic ranges of the pieces I would play. Accomplished quickly, there remained only the few long minutes of count-down time before the wall clock in front of me flashed and I heard the announcer introduce me and

TWO MEMORIES A CONTINENT AND 30 YEARS APART

read to the radio audience the names of the pieces I was to play.

Quickly the eerie feeling with which I began gave way to my involvement with the music, but I did feel I was playing to cold microphones. I knew there were live listeners somewhere out there, but there was a sense of loneliness without the pres-ence and response of beings who were receiving and re-sponding to what I had to say through the music.

Some thirty years later, follow-ing our duo-piano performance at Wigmore Hall in London, my partner and I were invited by the BBC to make a tape for ra-dio broadcast. We were noti-fied by mail of the location, arri-val time and the name of the person who would receive us. We were escorted to the “green room” where tea awaited along with a note identifying not only the time of our sound check but the availability of an attendant to make any ) necessary adjust-ments (bench height, light.) The BBC attended to every detail. We were able to concentrate on our playing and made five tapes that are in the possession of the BBC. We were treated, you might say, regally in England.

When looking back now from this present age of more reflec-

tion, both the WNYC and the BBC performances, though very different, were great experienc-es and opportunities for which I remain grateful. Doris Anne McMullen and her husband, Forrest, have been residents of Jefferson’s Ferry since 2013. Doris Anne per-formed both her solo and duo-piano debuts at Carnegie Weill Recital Hall in NYC, and her in-ternational duo-piano debut at Wigmore Hall in London. Doris Anne along with other artists, has played several times for Jefferson’s Ferry residents. In addition, Long Islanders have heard her perform as soloist, duo-pianist, and accompanist at CW Post, Dowling, Hofstra and Stony Brook Universities as well as at Brookhaven National Laboratory, the Coe Estate, Bayard Cutting Arboretum, le PetitSalon de Musique and nu-merous public libraries. A scholarship recipient for the Boston Symphony Orchestra’s chamber music program at Tanglewood, she holds a Mas-ters Degree in Piano Perfor-mance from Stony Brook Uni-versity where she also served as Teaching Assistant and coached in the Adult Chamber Music Program. Forrest is a member of the Resi-dents Council.


A SONG FOR THE WEDDING

By CLAIRE DONOHUE

I think of Sheila as my “Lost and Found” cousin. She was of the Brooklyn Donahues (we have no idea why they changed the spelling!) When we first met in 1974, I had just come back from my first trip to Ireland where I visited a distant cousin, Peggy Johnson Thornhill. She had worked here for several years in the 50’s and had fond memories of life on Avenue O. I had fond memories of Sheila’s grandmoth-er, dim memories of her mother (also named Clare) but no idea that Sheila even existed. In any event, I went to see Sheila in Sea Gate (near Coney Island) and we shared stories. She was a new mother, busy scooping food into her daughter as we talked.

A lot of things happened in my life as well as hers and we didn’t find one another again for at least twenty-five years. I had again visited Peggy in Ireland. I cringed to admit that I had lost touch of the current generation of cousins. As it happens, Peggy had just put an ad in the Irish Echo looking for her cousins in Glen Cove and Avenue O in Brooklyn and thought I was an-swering her ad!

I started digging and found Shei-la’s older sister in New Jersey, who gave me her Staten Island address. One thing led to anoth-er and we had a backyard reun-ion in Glen Cove with a very long phone call to Peggy in Ireland. One girl brought her mother’s wedding album: I was the flower

girl and our hostess’s mother was a bridesmaid and her uncle an usher. Other family treas-ures came up from the base-ment and I was able to give everyone a booklet on the his-tory of the Donohues.

Sheila was the next one to go to Ireland; I got daily e-mails. Then the Irish cousins started coming over. One was on a quick trip, but another stayed longer. I hosted the Long Is-land reunion with long-lost cousins from St. James joining us. Sheila and I would meet in the City occasionally and go digging in the Municipal Ar-chives. She came out to Glen Cove for the funeral when our Vietnam MIA cousin’s remains were found, and one of Peggy’s sons flew over for the inter-ment in Arlington. This March her other son came to sing at St. Patrick’s Cathedral and march in the St. Patrick’s Day Parade with the Male Choir of the Cork Prison Guards’ Associ-ation, but there wasn’t time for family.

Sheila helped me move to JF but our lives again went in different directions and the relationship dwindled to occa-sional calls and e-mails - until I got a surprise in my mail one recent day: an invitation to Sheila’s daughter’s wedding on Staten Island. But the date was the same as Monte Carlo Night, so I had to send regrets including information showing how important it was for me be here that night.

Sheila e-mailed a few days later, asking me to name a song they could play in honor of my family and me. Now, I know she sings and plays the guitar and would sometimes e-mail the lyrics of a song she was thinking about; but she probably doesn’t know that I neither play nor sing and only lis-ten to music in the car: classical music to counteract the traffic on 347 and the LIE. S-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o she wants a song.

After a lot of thought, I finally re-membered one family tradition about music. My mother was raised in New York City, the daughter of a chauffeur who worked most nights. Her Irish-born mother joined all the Irish societies to make a social life for herself and her daughters. Mom knew all the Irish dances – and so did my other Irish-born grand-mother, who was the original par-ty girl, ready to dance at the first note of music.

The only dance I could remember was “The Stack of Barley.” So I shot that off to Sheila with the note that it was about the only thing Mom had in common with her mother-in-law -- other than my father, of course. A few days later I got an e-mail from Sheila: I LOVE it. She attached links to sev-eral videos of groups performing it, with or without the dancing.

So while we gambled our way to Successful Aging, there was a group of Donohues at a wedding in Staten Island dancing to “The Stack of Barley,” and remember-ing a whole lot of family history.


I f you were in or near Jeffer-son’s Ferry on Saturday, Sep-tember 26, you know there was some serious merrymak-ing going on! For one night, the dining room, theater, lob-by, parking lots and just about every other available space was transformed into a Monte Carlo Masquerade where good food, games, music and danc-ing were the order of the evening. The goal of this annual event is to raise money for the Jeffer-son’s Ferry Foundation. Incor-porated in 2006, Jefferson’s Ferry Foundation’s mission is to raise funds to enhance ser-vices for our residents and staff, and to respond to the needs of our community. In addition to supporting major projects such as the Successful Aging venture, the Foundation provides assistance to staff and residents who are experi-encing financial hardships through no fault of their own. A highlight of the Monte Carlo event each year is the award-ing of The Community Builder Award, given to a resident who has participated in philan-thropic endeavors, volunteer-ism, and other good deeds to improve the lives of people both within and outside of the Jefferson’s Ferry Community. This year’s award went to Claire Donohue, with the fol-lowing commendation: “A lifelong learner and inex-

haustible volunteer, Claire Donohue’s contributions to the Jefferson’s Ferry community are both varied and valued. An Inde-pendent Living resident since

2010, Claire is a deep-rooted Long Islander. Born in Glen Cove, NY, Claire’s birth represented the fifth

generation of her family to live there. Accepted as an academic scholarship student at Bishop McDonnell High School in Crown Heights, Brooklyn, she feels that her long daily commute to school via the LIRR may have estab-lished her taste for travel. Claire has since traveled extensively throughout Europe, Asia and the four corners of Ireland. Passion-ate about family history, Claire tracked down most of her immi-grant ancestors while in Ireland, including 4th and 5th cousins. Claire attended St. John’s Univer-sity and became an English teacher, then an Audio-Visual coordinator. She later earned a library degree at Long Island Uni-versity, serving as the Bethpage High School librarian, as well as teaching at colleges in Brooklyn and Patchogue, and at Palmer Library School at LIU CW Post. Claire has given many in-service courses to teachers and librari-ans, and served as Chair of the Advisory Council to the Nassau School Library System during the time when library systems were

being automated. After retire-ment in 2003, she worked part time in the library at St. Jo-seph’s College. Claire has brought the same level of activity and commit-ment to Jefferson’s Ferry. Quickly recruited to the Library Committee, Claire also launched into many other ac-tivities. She chaired the Resi-dent Council for two years, and earned the admiration of resi-dents, management and staff for always trying something new to benefit the entire com-munity. Claire is currently the Council’s Recording Secretary. Her energies have also been directed towards the Country Store and the Sunshine, Budget & Finance, and Health Issues Committees. She chairs the Communications Committee and co-chairs the Library. In her ‘spare time,’ you might find her working on mini-courses, attending the aerobics class in the pool, or in the Art Room painting or quilting.

Not only is Claire active within Jefferson’s Ferry, she brings her vitality and fellow residents to the LI Museum in Stony Brook. She is part of a Jefferson’s Ferry team which participates in a Fiber Art installation, greets museum visitors on ‘Senior Tuesdays’ and has recruited volunteers to stuff envelopes for the museum.

The Jefferson’s Ferry communi-ty is grateful to have her among us. Thank you, Claire!”

CLAIRE DONOHUE—COMMUNITY BUILDER



GETTING MORE FROM YOUR REMOTE

Now that we’ve had a few months to play with our new TV remotes, here are some things that we’ve discovered.

To find out what’s on.

While watching any channel press “Guide” (#1) to see what’s on now and what’s coming up next.

Use the Page up and down arrows (2) to look at oth-er channels.

If you see something you want to watch, highlight it using directional arrows (3) then the Select (4) button.

Then use up and down Directional Arrows to “Watch” and hit Select again.

To return to the program you were watching, hit “Exit” (7).

To use Closed Captioning:

Touch the “Settings” button (Just under the Yellow button below the On/Off switch) then

use directional arrows to go to Close Captioning.

Touch select, then go down to Close Captioning. Select,

Use directional arrows to go to “On”. Press Select, then OK, then Exit.

Can’t find anything on the regular channels? Choose channel 350 or 500.

On Channel 350 you will find “On Demand” movies, many of which are free.

Use the Directional up and down arrows to select the kind of movie you’d like to see (for example, Com-edy) then hit Select.

Use Directional arrows to select a particular movie, Select, then Play.

On Channel 500 you can select from many recent network shows you may have missed. (TCM and Movie Channel included, but PBS is not ).

Use Directional arrows to choose “Free on demand” then “Entertainment.”

Choose the network, scroll down to the show you want to see, then select, then “Watch.”

To pause the movie, hit ll (5) on the lower portion of the remote.

To resume, hit the arrow, (6) or, if the screen has returned to the listing, just hit “resume.”

At the end of the movie, hit Exit and select another channel.

If you would like more information or if you’d like to share other information about using other fea-tures, let us know at ([email protected]) and we will print it in a future edition. If there is enough inter-est, we could schedule an information-sharing workshop when convenient.

mailto:[email protected]

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