September October 2015 Volume 15 Issue 5

JEFFERSON’S FERRY ART GALLERY

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

Jefferson’s Ferry Life Care Community.

jftales @gmail.com

The Editorial Board (Jefferson’s Ferry Tales Committee)

Margaret Pols, Editor Marty Bellin Siri Bergheim Mary Bafundi Dolores Cammarata Joyce Edward, Liaison Dom Commisso Barbara Doxey Ken Draigh Gloria Lancaster Claire Reilly Alice Rhodes Hank Ryon Bob Spann

Technical Assistance: Fred Romeo

Writers: You, the Residents of Jefferson’s Ferry

Editor Emeritus: Roy Miller

2015 RESIDENTS COUNCIL

Carol Fenter, Chairperson Forrest McMullen, Vice Chairperson

Colette Mayer, Corr. Secretary Claire Donohue, Recording Secretary

Hank Sparhuber, Treasurer Caroline Levine

Marcia Jefferson Marty Petersen Bob Spann

Committees of the Council and Chairpersons

Budget/Finance Chuck Darling

Building Marty Petersen

Communications

Claire Donohue

Comm.Garden Edith Hull

Country Store Claire Baer

Conservation Bernie Tunik

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

Ferry Tales September October 2015 Page 3

By ALICE RHODES

“It takes a lot of courage to show your dreams to someone else,” Erma Bombeck once wrote.

For some, that may include the dream of being a painter, sculp-tor or other artist. Deep down, many people have harbored a secret belief that they have a hidden talent for drawing, painting or other artistic en-deavors, but, due to fear, or a lack of opportunity, or a convic-tion that they “can’t even draw a straight line,” they have never pursued their dream. Many, in fact, reach their “senior years” without ever giving it a try.

At Jefferson’s Ferry, we are chal-lenged to change those ideas. For example, if you glance into the Art Room any Thursday morning, you’ll find a dedicated group of resident artists, each engrossed in his or her own pro-ject. The group has been in ex-istence for 14 years, and many of the participants have attend-ed faithfully for many years. In fact, there is a waiting list to join the group, made necessary by space requirements for this type of activity.

I had the great pleasure of talk-ing to Joan Rogers, the instiga-tor and teacher of the class. Joan came to Jefferson’s Ferry at the very beginning with a proposal to start an art class, and has been with us ever since, sharing her expertise and her teaching magic.

Joan is a free-lance watercolor artist and has been a resident of

Long Island for 47 years. She studied art in New York City at the Art Students League where most of her training was in de-sign, composition and color application. Her work has re-ceived many awards in major exhibitions, including first prize in a Poster contest on the pro-tection of animals by the Na-tional Foundation of Animal Conservation, and the Mary O. Fritchie Greater Westhampton Art Show, where she placed second for the watercolor award.

For 20 years, Long Island sur-roundings have been an end-less source of subject matter for Joan. Her most recent works have been Long Island landmarks and houses. She calls this project, “Memories.” Many of her paintings have been donated for fund-raising events to Mather Hospital, for Breast Cancer Research, the Business Women’s Organiza-tion and Sunshine Children’s Center.

A story about how the class came about at Jefferson’s Ferry illustrates her approach. Be-fore the class was officially started, Joan brought some samples of her art work to Jefferson’s Ferry. The paintings were all displayed on tables in the theater to show management what she was capable of doing. A resident happened to come into the theater, and proceeded to ex-amine this art carefully, then solemnly pronounced, “They’ll never be able to do that.”

Never missing a beat, Joan countered, “Oh , yes they will!”

Well, the class started up, time went by and now it was time for the first exhibition. The show was a stunning success, and all were amazed at the de-gree of skill and imagination represented in the art work. Now, who should arrive on the scene but our original critic. Again, he carefully examined all the art, and then once more made his pronouncement to Joan. “Well,” he declared, “I certainly never thought they could do this kind of work! It’s beautiful and I congratulate you. You were right when you said they could do it.” She cer-tainly was.

Joan told me that perhaps 85% of her students never took an art course in any form before. The class is not structured and everyone is encouraged to try different techniques and styles. As Joan explained, “Art must come from within, not from the outside.” For watercolors, scenes from beautiful calendars are selected; still life subjects are usually done in charcoals or

(Cont’d on page 4)

Art Students with teacher, Joan Rogers

pastels. She encourages the stu-dents to learn to look at their own work objectively and see what they like and don’t like. She is always overjoyed to see them evolving as talented artists. She told me, “I learn from them.”

The admiration is mutual; as one artist said, “No one is ever intim-idated in our class. The atmos-phere here is one of patience and love. The Thursday class is the highlight of my week.”

The class is not limited to painting or drawing however. The students are encouraged also to learn about the lives and

art work of famous artists. Re-cently, as a project, each stu-dent chose an artist’s name and then investigated in depth avail-able biographical material and scholarly commentaries of their respective art work.

As you walk past the art room, you may hear music. Joan often plays a recording to “put the artists in the mood.” Recently everyone was painting a beach scene on clam shells. What was the music selected to comple-ment such a scene? Jamaica Steel Drums, of course. What could be more appropriate.?

Page 4 Ferry Tales September October 2015

of pine needles in the Canada exhibit. The other was that of grilling hotdogs. There was a great variety of restaurants at the Fair, with the one in the French pavilion the most fa-mous. But when I was hungry, I would happily head for the near-est of the numerous hot dog stands.

To me the Fair was most magical at night. I loved to gaze at the different lighting effects on the buildings, statues, fountains wa-terfalls and reflecting pools. The Trylon and Perisphere, the sym-bols of the fair, were most im-pressive at night.

Why did this Fair have such an effect on me? I’ve seen many other “wonders” in the course of a lifetime, but this one came first and all at once.

Every two years the Art Class hosts an exhibition and recep-tion, and the art displayed is indeed a testimonial to the talent of our Jefferson’s Ferry artists. While we await the next exhibition, we can enjoy the exhibits located in the case outside the Art Room, or in the Art Room itself where current works by our artists are always on display.

JF Tales congratulates our resi-dent artists on their accom-plishments, and thanks Joan for all her efforts in making the art class a dynamic and appreciated addition to our life here at Jefferson’s Ferry.

By HANK RYON

A ll it took was a nickel for me to travel from my local subway station in Brooklyn to Manhattan and then onto the special train that took me to the New York World’s Fair of 1939-40.What a sight for a 15 year old to see! All those gleaming white fantastic buildings! And what a con-trast to the drab, depression- colored world I had known.

It was the total experience that affected me the most. Of course certain exhibits did stand out. The show in the General Motors building with its moving chairs looking down on a futuristic land-scape (with busy superhigh-ways, of course.) A one hour or more wait was normal for

this one. The Con Edison exhibit paired two street scenes at night, one illuminated by gas lamps, the other by modern electric lighting. A show in the transportation area ended with two full sized locomotives acting as the closing curtains. I could add more but these made the most lasting impressions on me.

I’ve read that our sense of smell for some things lasts a lifetime. Two aromas from the Fair are with me still. One was the smell

By MARTY PETERSEN

E xplain “raining cats and dogs, skinny as a rail, like pulling hens teeth, two peas in a pod” to a Chinese speaking student - that was the challenge presented to me by Jasper, a student from China studying at Stony Brook University. I first met Jasper Wang 10/28/11 when he was referred to me by Dr. Barbara Brownworth, a professor at Stony Brook U. who taught Eng-lish as a Second Language (ESL) to foreign students.

In 2007, nine Jefferson Ferry res-idents were assigned as “Conversation Partners” with her students to help them to perfect their English. Jasper, a chosen American name, was starting his graduate studies in Business Administration, having received a bachelor’s degree in China. He was my seventh stu-dent partner. He had studied our language for about seven years in China and had a fine com-mand of English. His goal, as he put it, was “to become more American.” His first request of me was to teach him all the idi-oms, metaphors and colloquial-isms we use day after day. I has-tened to tell him that we didn’t learn these in school; we just picked them up naturally, but we would try.

On our second visit he brought me a page full of sayings he had taken from the internet, such as those mentioned above, and asked me to explain their mean-ing. I had made a page or so my-self so we plunged right in.

CONVERSATION PARTNER AND MORE

Ferry Tales September October 2015 Page 5

From then on we “covered the waterfront” (another phrase to learn) with conversations, questions, pictures, world and local news, sports and you name it. I can’t begin to tell you all we shared about his country and ours. We dis-cussed his courses and he would describe them to me. I shared my experiences during WW2 in China and asked him many questions. Surprisingly he didn’t understand me when I asked about “rice patties.” All of this was helping him to converse in English. We dis-cussed places he should visit in the area. He traveled to many places of interest in NY and along the East Coast, and re-ported back to me. It’s surpris-ing to me that all my partners seemed to have enough mon-ey to travel in the USA as well as to go back and forth to their countries.

Jasper had a job delivering for a few Chinese restaurants and frequently brought me wanton soup and many other gifts. He often shopped in Queens where there is a large Oriental shopping district for foods and other native items.

In Sept 2012, Rachael, Jasper’s girlfriend from China, came to US and began studying in Mas-sachusetts so I saw him a lot less during that year. She came with him often and they trav-eled and partied with friends so we had lots to talk about.

When he was ready to gradu-ate with an MBA, I helped him develop a resume. He found a job in Jamaica, Queens, with an import-export company. He was responsible for arranging transportation of Chinese goods arriving at Kennedy Air-port to dealers in the area. Rachael moved to his apart-ment near the Smithaven Mall and continued her schooling at Suffolk Community College.

They returned to China in the summer of 2013 and were mar-ried there. They came back and continued life as a married couple here in a new apart-ment. I saw them less frequent-ly but enough to keep up with their life and activities. Rachael became pregnant in 2014 and in August had an American ba-by girl. They chose several names and asked me which I preferred. I chose Chelsea, which they named her. I had met Jasper’s parents on their visit here previously. After the baby was born I met Rachael’s parents as well. Rachel and Jas-per returned to China at Christ-mas time to share the baby with their families, and I stopped hearing from them. We had over the years shared our activities via email and it was strange not hearing a word.

(Cont’d on p.6)

CONVERSATION PARTNER AND MORE (cont’d)

By ART ROMITA

(as told to Margaret Pols)

I t all began at a teacher’s meeting in Bay Shore, LI, in Sep-tember, 1994. “How can we help 4th graders understand the concept of One Million? Maybe we could collect a million paper clips? Soda can tabs?” Then, thinking outside the box (before we even knew what that meant,) Art Romita, a teacher there since 1964, came up with the idea, “Let’s collect one mil-lion pennies!” (Before you get out your calculators, that’s $10,000!) “Let’s make it both a fund raiser and a learning expe-rience. Let’s involve the whole school, and extend it to the Community as well. Let’s give it a try.” The goal: A Million Pen-nies in a year.

Many clearances and permis-sions needed to be obtained, so Art moved ahead with those tasks. He still has a scrapbook with letters to the school board, NY State officials, banks, and community leaders, all of whom gave their blessing.

The town of Bay Shore on Long Island’s south shore was once an elite area, with grand homes, beaches and marinas along the bay. When a mall was built nearby, many of the small “main street shops” closed, and when a mental hospital nearby closed down, many jobs were lost and some people with few resources were forced to find housing as cheaply as possible. By the 1990’s Bay Shore was a cultur-ally mixed community with many of the problems faced by many other LI areas. The school reflected that diversity and challenge. As the town struggled to find a new identi-ty, a plan was hatched to build the Long Island Aquarium. A site was donated. An adjoining site was also available contin-gent on the payment of back taxes. If the school’s goal could be met, the $10,000 would enable the Aquarium foundation to pay off those taxes.

The kids and their teachers went to work, finding, col-lecting, shaking people down

for pennies. One hundred twen-ty five small glass fish-bowls were distributed in shops, banks, and other establishments around town, and the teachers picked them up once a month. The stu-dents and teachers dreamed up fund-raising events - guess the weight of a giant pumpkin; a tee- shirt design contest, along with letters to sports equipment com-panies asking for contributions of tee shirts. Art’s son, a local radio announcer, invited several of the kids to come and talk about the project, and Newsday’s KIDSDAY included a feature. There were no coin-counting machines, so each morning the penny-rolling club manually counted and rolled all the pennies to take to the bank.

Page 6 Ferry Tales 2015 September October

A MILLION PENNIES

On July 14, 2015 I received an email from Jasper saying that he had tried to email me but it must have failed because of the internet control by the Chinese government.

He said Rachael was a fine mother and included pictures of baby Chel-sea, now almost a year old. I of course responded and asked a lot of questions about his family and work

in China. He said there was some kind of issue with his visa, and he was trying to correct it.

Jasper expects to return next year as he wants very much to settle here. I hope he is successful as I enjoyed their company over the years and I would love to see the baby. (I have-n’t seen my great grand daughter ei-ther so I wonder who I’ll see first.)

Every couple of weeks, Art would issue a progress report. By April, the millionth penny was collected, but the group decided to continue as planned until May 31. By that time they had 1,309,562 pennies. For the Me-morial Day parade, the art stu-dents made a giant papier-mâché “whale” named Penny, which was towed down the main street while the school band played “Pennies from Heaven.” Students, teachers and supporters marched in their newly designed tee shirts.

On June 9, 1995, the school pre-sented the Long Island Aquari-um Association with an over-sized check in the amount of $13,095.62. Present, in addition to the students and their teach-ers, were school officials, mem-bers of the aquarium team, po-lice representatives, local politi-cians and the Vice President of the bank.

An armored car rolled up with crates of rolled pennies. They were unloaded using a fork lift provided by a local contractor (husband of the bank VP.) For sure, the students now had a concept of what a million is.

Things did not go so well for the LI Aquarium after that. Ques-tions began to arise about traffic concerns and the use of under-ground water. A new aquarium and water park was planned for Riverhead (a for-profit venture rather than the not-for-profit one in Bay Shore.) It was sug-gested that the project be moved to Brentwood which met with great disapproval.

When it became apparent that Bay Shore was not going to have an aquarium, Art, now retired, became an activist. The 4th graders were now Seniors in High School, and Art wanted to get the money back before those kids went off to college or other pursuits. He gathered a small group to try to get the money back, but the aquarium

refused, saying the money had already been spent.

In June, 2003 a young reporter from Newsday asked Art for an interview, and a feature story followed. That got results. At 5:30 one morning, Art was awakened by Rose Anne Scamardella of WINS radio news, asking if he had seen that morning’s Newsday. (He was not yet out of bed!) She wanted details. Between that early call and 10 PM that night, Art was contacted by Channels 2,4,5,7,11 and Cablevision, some by phone and some by personal visits to his home. In spite of everything, the Aquari-um said it could not return the money.

Shortly thereafter, Art received a phone call from the Washing-

ton Post! The story had ap-peared there as well as in the Chicago Tribune. The Post saw the story as mistreatment of children, and said they would give the Aquarium until 2 PM on Friday to correct the injustice or they would “tear the Aquarium to pieces.” Art called an attor-ney-friend and several others in town. A local realtor took re-sponsibility for repaying the funds, and the Post backed off and the money was returned.

What now to do with the mon-ey? Art and a committee of community members looked at many other local charities. The money, dubbed the South Coun-try Penny Fund, was distributed to 10 different causes. It provid-ed a flagpole and a plaque for the Historical Society, a Band Shell for the Boulton Cultural Center, a memorial planting at the Sagtikos Historical Society and a few small scholarships for students of Bay Shore. And best of all, Art and his friends provid-ed a small aquarium – a 200 gal-lon tank stocked with fish for the Bay Shore Public Library’s children section, which, in spite of three moves, an asbestos re-moval project, and several other renovations, is still enjoyed by the children of the Community.

Ferry Tales September October 2015 Page 7

“AQUARIUM” AT THE BAY SHORE LIBRARY

Consider the duck: He’s not the type of fellow who is fond of suedes and leathers, This stylish dude will strut his stuff with multicolored feathers. We thus admire the adaptable Mallard Who asks no dressing for his sallard, Which should be welcome tidings for his wife, Whom experts tell us marries him for life— But only with exceptions, I've no doubt On what a rake might call a “drake's night out.” Consider the Canada goose: There's the beautiful Canada goose. She's a floozy; her morals are loose. She is wed, it is said, to a gander And complains that he can't understand her, So she flirts with a duck or a cormorant Whom she trusts is a lusty performerant.

Consider the ostrich: Big eyes, long lashes,

and long slim limbs—- You'd bet the hers

would attract the hims. Each also wears a feathered tutu— I'm sure seducers find that cute too. But it's said that flirting swains inflame her Laying eggs that size— who on earth could blame her?

Consider the pterodactyl: This primeval flying dinosaur Was so stout his wings got kinda sore Covered with scales, this olden reptile Of feathers would have been receptile. While others swam or went hip-hoppity, He flew—and the air was his personal propity.

Page 8 Ferry Tales September October 2015

Consider the Penguin: Perhaps overdressed for his Antarctic habitat— The kind of a home you would not find a rabbit at. He won't fight frigidity like folks think he oughtter. The rascal can't fly, though he's speedy in water, And he waddles on land, so to watch him is fun But would you feel good if your daughter married one?

What were the headlines on the day you were born? Here are a few random samples: 1926 8/23 Rudolph Valentino dies at age 31. 10/14 Winnie The Pooh pub-lished. 1929 1/17 Popeye makes his first ap-pearance. 2/14 -Valentine’s Day Massacre – 2 civilians, 5 gangsters killed in Chicago.

10/24 NY Stock Exchange loses $30 Billion. 1931

3/3 – Star Spangled Banner in-stituted as the National Anthem.

Ferry Tales September October 2015 Page 9

By CHUCK (ey) DARLING

A fter 84 years of observing human behavior, I have come to the conclusion, without any sci-entific research, that the Ameri-can people are obsessed with the desire to change other peo-ples’ names. When a male child is born and named William or Joseph or Michael, he is imme-diately dubbed with the name Billy or Joey or Mikey; always adding a cutesy “y” to the little tyke’s nickname! The same is true for female babies; a child may be given the perfectly beautiful name of Elizabeth or Jennifer. Immediately this bun-dle of joy is dubbed Lizzy or Jen-ny! This is what we do!

When the baby is named Sally or Mary or Nancy, the public can’t add another “y”, so they precede the name with “Little”, as in Little Sally or Little Mary or

Little Nancy. All of these names change when the age of 13 is attained; Jimmy becomes Jim; Joey becomes Joe; Mikey becomes Mike; Lizzy becomes Liz and Jenny becomes Jen. Suddenly, Sally becomes Sal; Mary becomes Mare; and Nan-cy becomes Nance. Then around 21 years of age, society collectively decides that the birth names of William, Jo-seph, Michael, Elizabeth, Jen-nifer, Sally, Mary, and Nancy are now perfectly acceptable and can be used for the rest of their lives.

There is one exception to this general rule – the name Charles. For some unex-plained, bizarre reason all of humanity looks at this name and the final letter magically turns from an “s” to a “y”! From then on this poor, male child is saddled with the name “Charley” for the rest of his

life! No reverting back at 13 or 21; it goes on for the rest of his life, and beyond! And what compounds this injustice is that Edgar Bergen named his wooden, ventriloquist dummy Charlie ( he dropped the “y” but stuck an “i” in there), and some advertising maven, while on drugs, came up with the idea to sell cans of tuna using a fish named “Charley Tuna”! Every Charles in the world is viewed as some kind of wooden dummy or a wise-cracking fish for the rest of his life; he never reverts back to his birth name!

For this reason when my ever-lasting spirit descends or as-cends from this “Vale of Tears”, I am going to have a closed casket because I can’t abide the thought that some-one peering into my coffin saying, “Looks like Old Charley finally lost some weight!”

5/1 - Empire State Bldg. finished.

5/23- 6/1 First around the world flight piloted by Wiley Post and Harold Gatty – 8.5 days.

12/12 Jane Addams—1st wom-an to receive Nobel Peace Prize.

1936

3/1 Hoover Dam completed

5/30 First publication of Gone With the Wind.

7/21 JT Scopes, HS Biology teach found guilty of teaching evolution in Tenn. Fined $100.

7/31 First airing of radio drama The Shadow.

1938

10/10 Radio program, War of the Worlds creates panic in US.

11/9 Krystallnacht– “Night of Broken Glass” in Germany - Jewish Businesses burned -100 killed.

1940

5/10 World War II battles of France, the Netherlands and Belgium.

12/8 NFL Championship game ends in biggest one-sided victory - Chicago Bears– 73; Washington Redskins—0.

HEADLINES (C0nt’d)

THANK YOU! Eleanor Brocia expresses her gratitude to the Ferry Tales readership for all their kind wishes following the recent fall which left her face purple and black. All your cards, notes and visits were much appreciated, helped her re-cover, and strengthened her affection for Jefferson’s Ferry and all the residents who comprise it.

Page 10 September October 2015 Ferry Tales

The JF Tales Committee decided to reinstate The Roving Reporter that Marty Petersen originated several years ago. Dom Commis-so asked, “Where were you when the US first landed on the Moon?”

ROVING REPORTER—

DOM COMMISSO

FAITH LITTLEFIELD-

On July 20th, 1969, we were driving back to Long Island after a vacation in Maine. Our daugh-ter Laura was seven years old, and our son Steven was five. We stopped in New Bedford, Massa-chusetts, to visit good friends and their ten-year-old son to spend the night at their home. We knew the lunar landing was scheduled for late afternoon and sat with the children to watch it. As I remember, our five-year-old son asked many “Why?” ques-tions, as he usually did.

The children went to bed at the usual time. We told them that we would wake them up when the first step on the moon was taken. Some time after eleven o’clock we woke them up and we watched Neil Armstrong take “one small step for man, and one giant step for mankind.” We sat in awe at what we were seeing, and the older children asked many questions.

Outside on their dead-end street, we and some neighbors came out of the house to talk about it. I recall the couple next door coming in for coffee. It tru-

ly was an event never to be for-gotten.

ELIZABETH KELLEHER – I was in my apartment watching this event on TV. Seeing the pilot descend to the moon’s surface raised many questions in my mind. If this was really happening (it was) what im-pact would it have on the pilot? Would it change him or would he just go on as on the day before? How different would he be to family, co-workers and friends? Would he seem weird in any way? What would his wife think? Most important would he survive? How would this event change his life?

KEN DRAIGH - On the day of the moon landing I was at work in the Educational Com-munications Cen-ter Building at Stony Brook Uni-versity. The

building had a conference room that had a TV set. When word went around the building that the landing was about to take place, everyone rushed into the conference room to watch the landing on TV. What an incredi-ble experience - an "impossible feat" had just been accomplished

DOM COMMISSO—It was a Sun-day afternoon, July 20, 1969 at 4:17 E.D.T. There was never any question in my mind as to where I would be— in front of the TV in my living room (I have a picture of myself at the exact moment of

touchdown). Having been a design engi-neer on the Lunar Module, I had a vest-ed interest in its suc-cess. Months before,

I had seen that particular Lunar Module in the final assembly area and rumors had it that it would be the one to attempt the landing. With that in mind, I remember having placed my hand on it to give it my blessing. Sure enough it was the one! I watched the live coverage with much apprehen-sion. You can imagine the pro-found elation I felt when I heard the words “The Eagle has landed”. As with Columbus’ discovery of America 500 hundred years ago, the first moon landing will be re-membered 500 years into the fu-ture and beyond. Just imagine, all of us here were a witness to that amazing event!

ELLEN BRAUNSTEIN

I was in Spain on that day. With the time difference, it happened in the middle of the night, so I don’t remem-ber the details. Un-fortunately, while I was gone, my grandmother died. When I got back to the US, our family told us all about the event. The family had gathered to greet visitors at the funeral home on Sunday July 20. Promptly at 4 PM, family and friends adjourned to a nearby home and gathered around the TV to watch the landing, while Grandma remained in repose! I’m so sorry she missed it!

By MARTY PETERSEN

I ’m aware that many of our readers may not relate to this story but the experience was so profound that I felt that I had to tell it.

As a backdrop for my story let me relate my background. I have been a Christian all of my life. (See My Christian Judaic Walk, Jefferson’s Ferry Tales 12-06 and 1-07) Since the age of 5 in Sunday School I have felt close to the Lord. I actively served in six churches over a period of 88 years, changing due to moves and new direc-tions in my life. In my youth I participated in teaching, sing-ing in choir and social activi-ties. During WW2 I served as the unofficial chaplain for two years on my ship in the Pacific. I was President of two congre-gations, Sunday School Super-intendent, choir member, and I attended and taught Bible studies. I was called and conse-crated as a Deacon in the Lu-theran Church after two years of study and an internship. My primary calling was visiting hospitals, nursing homes and the homebound, fixing things for them, praying and com-muning with them.

I always felt that God has spo-ken to me in whatever circum-stances He has put me through, and in whatever di-rections He has led me. My prayers, although answered, never seemed to be on person-

al conversational relationship with God. At age 48 I attended a Christian Business Men’s Breakfast where Archbishop Stanley, from the Chaldean Church in the Middle East, end-ed his talk with an altar call. My knees and my whole body trembled and I couldn’t resist going to him. Others followed me and he said “As this man stepped out in faith, you fol-lowed” and he prayed with us.

During my recent 21 day stay in Skilled Nursing at Bove I experi-enced a deep personal relation-ship and I felt that I was really talking with God. Away from my daily chores and activities, I had time to continue reading my Bible, praying, and pouring my heart out to Him. Of course I prayed to get over my attack of bronchitis and get back to my activities at Independent Living and my service at Bove, which included reading to resi-dents, leading Trivia games in the evening, participating in Happy Hour at Assisted Living, singing at the Terraces, visiting individual residents and singing or leading the Saturday Chris-tian Services.

Lying awake for two hours, 4-6 AM, I was able to review my life, reflecting on events and happenings from all facets, time and places of my life. I couldn’t believe that I could recall so much with names, de-tails and vivid pictures. I could see plainly how God had blessed me and touched my life. Afterwards, I noticed that I was speaking more openly with

my family and friends about things that I might not have ex-pressed previously. I sang hymns and recalled scripture passages and rejoiced over the many inci-dents that came to mind. My Bi-ble studies, teaching, TV studies and programs all came together and related to my experiences. Bible readings seemed to fit my immediate circumstance and spoke directly to my needs. I thought deeply about how a great all knowing, merciful God created new life, and of the won-ders and complexity of the hu-man body.

I have always awakened each morning with a song on my heart and a realization that God di-rected my days. Each day I pray that He would show me what to do and say. I recalled my confir-mation verse from Colosians 1:9-10 which reads “We ask God to fill you with knowledge of His will, with wisdom and under-standing that His Spirit gives. Then you will be able to live as the Lord wants and will always do what pleases Him. Your lives will produce all kinds of good deeds and you will grow in the knowledge of God.”

I confess that I have not always “lived as the Lord wants,” but in His mercy and grace I know that, like all believers, I am forgiven. I really can’t express to you the closeness I felt to God. One would have to have the same ex-perience to feel the profound impact it had on me.

I note Psalm 119:71 which reads, “It was good for me to be afflict-ed so that I might learn your de-crees. “

MY EXPERIENCE AT BOVE SKILLED NURSING

September October 2015 Ferry Tales Page 11

By

FAITH LITTLEFIELD

I n 1943 I started first grade in Brooklyn. I liked kindergarten and was looking forward to this new class. Of course, kin-dergarten in 1943 was mostly playtime – no homework, no stress as it is today. The big-gest responsibility we had was not to lose the nickel for milk and graham crackers as our snack. Life was so simple then!

Then came first grade and numbers – ARITHMETIC. Just the word was enough to fright-en me. It was one of the two things I did not like about first grade. The first was all the walking to and from school. My mother walked me to school in the morning, walked me home at noon for lunch, walked me back at one o’clock, and finally walked me back home at three o’clock. Look-ing back, she should have been complaining, not I since she actually did double the walking I did, rain or shine, warm or cold.

My father was an accountant and my mother, a bookkeeper. It was hard for them to believe that their only child had trou-ble with numbers. And arith-metic did not end with first grade. It was there year after year. When “problems” came on the scene I really had prob-lems! I did not get it, and my very patient father tried to show me how easy it could be. Yes, easy for him!

Through the years, the names changed. In high school there was algebra, and for some strange reason, I did better at that. Then there was geome-try and the trouble returned. That protractor was my big-gest enemy. Finally, the last mathematics course was fac-ing me in my senior year Trig-onometry! I was told it was a little like algebra and geome-try put together. Wonderful! I was also told that if I took it and passed, I would not be faced with a mathematics course in college. My teacher would be Miss McQuade. I knew who she was – the small woman with gray hair pulled back in a bun. I thought she must be at least 50! I could not ask anyone about her, so all I knew was that she was “old”.

The first day of class, we were all seated nervously awaiting her arrival. It was a small class and there was silence when she entered the room. “Good morning, ladies”, she said smiling. (Did I mention this was an all-girl school, Prospect Heights High School?) “I want to welcome

you to a class where you and I are in for some fun and excite-ment”, she continued. Fun and excitement? Was she serious? How could anything related to mathematics be fun or exciting? She sensed our doubting her claim, so she went on to tell us that trigonometry was challeng-ing. “Challenging” is another word for “difficult”. She said that her job was not only to teach us, but also to make it interesting. She promised that in her class time would pass very quickly.

Our first class, and every one that followed, began with a re-laxation exercise done at our desks. This was to relieve the tension from our heads to our feet, and for me this was cru-cial. It really worked! To this day I’m not sure she did not hypnotize us with her soothing voice. Then she began the les-son which was always called “the challenge of the day”. We were encouraged to ask any question no matter how “foolish” it may seem to us. She moved around the classroom, never sat down, smiled exten-sively, and very quickly she started not to look old any-more. That first day she intro-duced us to a new world in mathematics. The adventure had begun! When the bell rang, we couldn’t believe the period was over.

When asked by my parents how my day in this class was, I an-swered “So far, so good.” I caught my mother giving my father a look that said, “Can this be true?”

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THE BEST BIRTHDAY PRESENT EVER

Ferry Tales September October 2015 Page 13

On a recent weekend, we cele-brated my 80th birthday (several weeks early, but that was fine). There was a big par-ty at JF, dinner that night at Carnival, and a barbeque at my #4 son’s house on Sunday. My nieces from North Carolina and New Jersey had made the trip to my son’s house on Sunday to help celebrate.

In addition to several non-requested gifts, they handed me an envelope. Inside was a series of correspondence from the Troopers to my nephew (who was the executor of my older brother’s estate). Appar-ently the troopers who had come to JF made a call to someone after they spoke to me. Inside the envelope was a group of little cards with a pic-ture of “Lynde” who is a K-9 bloodhound.

On the back of the card it read:

This was, without a doubt, the best birthday present ever!

By CAROL FENTER

L ast June, while being finger-printed by two very nice New York State Troopers, I suggested in my flippant way that they could skip all the nonsense since my father was a NYS Trooper, so I shouldn’t have to be finger-printed. When I told them he had lost his life in the line of du-ty, they got very excited and asked me for all the details. Un-fortunately, since he had passed prior to my birth, I didn’t have too many other than that it had happened.

Two days later they called me, asking for his name because they couldn’t find a trooper named Fenter. So I gave them my maid-en name. They asked if there had ever been a dog named after my father and wondered why not. When I checked the web-site, however, I saw that they didn’t start the dog-naming pro-gram until 1948 and my father died in 1935. So, I assumed, that was that.

It was true! Day after day our enthusiasm grew. Miss McQuade made trigonometry seem like the most important thing we would ever learn and we truly wanted to learn more. We played trigonome-try games and a healthy com-petition was encouraged. We even received prizes – pencils, notepads, looseleaf paper –

when we came up with the correct answer first in the class. My mid-term grade was 75 and I received 78 on the mid-term exam, and then lo and behold, on the 1955 Regents Exam I re-ceived a 95! This was truly a miracle and I could not believe it. My final grade was 85.

Miss McQuade was the best teacher I ever had, including my four years of college that followed. No one even came close to her. When I became a teacher, I often thought of her. If I could become half the teacher she was, I would be doing well!

K-9 Lynde DOB August 4, 2011 K-9 Lynde is a female Bloodhound who joined the New York State Police in 2014. Lynde is trained in man-trailing and search and res-cue. Lynde was named in honor of Trooper Thomas C. Lynes, who lost his life in the line of duty on June 3, 1935. Trooper Kevin Con-ners and Lynde are assigned to Troop D, Oneida NY”

By

BARBARA BELLIN

S o many memories, some funny, some exciting! If you’ve seen the movie “Best in Show”, you’ve had a glimpse of what dog shows are like. That movie embellished the reality, yet there are memorable moments at any dog show!

On a rainy day at a dog show in Maine, Marty took our Beauty into the ring, ran around and came back to their place to be “gone over” by the judge. As I watched Marty gaiting Beauty, suddenly he sort of hitched, but continued to run, Beauty never breaking her stride. At the end of the judging, Marty accepted Beauty’s ribbon, but instead of leaving the ring directly, he crossed the ring and bent to dig up the shoe he had lost as he ran! That was when I realized that he had finished showing her without one of his shoes on!

At a show on the Jones Beach parking lot, our daughter, Devra, then 3 years old, asked if she could sit in the dog crate with our big galoop of an Irish Setter Max. She often did this at home, where the dogs used an open dog crate as an indoor doghouse for resting. I ex-plained that we couldn’t leave the door to the crate open as Max might suddenly jump out, but Devra said it was fine to close the door. I sat next to the crate; Marty was a bit farther away. As Devra sat caged with

her arm around Max’s neck in this huge dog crate, some peo-ple who had come over from the beach looked at Devra and exclaimed, “Look what these people do to their children!” Marty, standing nearby replied, “Yes, isn’t that terrible!” I told him he was lucky that he didn’t end up divorced over that one!

Our dog Blayz was well trained, thank goodness. As we were putting him back in his crate in our open mini-van after he was finished in the ring, suddenly his lead snapped. He continued walking on his own! A dog off lead on the show grounds is a frightful thing as cars are load-ing up and leaving all day long. Other exhibitors saw what hap-pened and came to help me “corral” Blayz, but I just said, “Blayz, wait!” and he stopped dead in his tracks and waited for me to loop that broken leash around his neck so we could get to our car. As fright-ened as I was, I rejoiced in his having remembered his train-ing, and those coming to help applauded his obedience to my command!

At a show in Ohio, I was show-ing our 6 month old puppy Luv. We had practiced the show routine and I thought that she was ready for the real thing. Luv ran around the ring per-fectly, but when the judge came to “go over” her, instead of standing still, Luv, true to her name, sat down and offered her paw to the judge! As en-dearing as that was, it was groan, I guess she needs a lot

more practice!

In the obedience ring at the show in Ohio, I had entered Blayz who was heeling off lead beautifully as we practiced at home. Unfortunately, the week before there had been a horse show on the grounds where the dog show was being held. Now rules are very strict what is acceptable and what is not. What is definitely not ac-ceptable is for a dog supposed to be heeling to wander away and lift its leg on the nearest tree, no matter how tempting that horse smell is! A definite disqualification for Blayze! An-other groan for me!

It was a lovely spring day, but quite breezy at the dog show out at Cathedral Pines on Long Island. Most people bring lawn chairs to shows and set them up around the outside of the ring. In obedience there is an exercise where one tells the dog to lie down and stay, then walks across the ring to stand until the judge’s instruction to return to the dog. Did I men-tion the breeze? Someone got up from a chair, the breeze picked up the chair and it flew “head over heels” across the ring in front of the line of dogs on the “long stay” exercise. Every dog spooked and stood up, as I silently prayed that Blayz would stay put! He did, miraculously, but his eyes were as big as saucers as he stared across the ring at me. The judge instructed us to return to our dogs as she feared chaos with all the dogs trying to bolt

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from the scene! A lot of exhibi-tors were pretty annoyed with that chair’s owner!

On another day at Eisenhower Park, once again, the dogs were on a long stay, with their han-dlers, including me, across the ring. A spectator pushed her squeaky baby carriage right be-hind dogs lying attentively. This time, even Blayz stood up. Guess he was okay with unexplained happenings in front of him, but not behind him where he could-n’t see what was happening! At other shows, Blayz completed his obedience exercises with pa-

nache!

At the Riverhead show, Marty handled Beauty in the female class and I handled her son Max in the dog class. Both took the blue ribbon in their classes! That meant that they had to compete against each other to be awarded “Best of Breed.” We really didn’t care which dog took it, but when the judge gave the win to Beauty, Marty and I hugged happily. It was apparent that the judge was not used to that kind of reaction between ex-

hibitors! We then told him that he had given the wins to mother and son, he felt good, realizing that he had been con-sistent in his selection!

Over the 43 years we raised and showed our Irish Setters, we had many dog show mo-ments that are fun to look back on now. We miss not having our “redheads” anymore, but are definitely not “spry” enough now to go running around dog show rings!

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MEETING WITH THE CIA

By BOB SPANN

P robably it was a research idea that wasn’t going any-where anyhow. However, it did lead to a most unusual meeting in Washington with the Central Intelligence Agen-cy.

I was with a research branch out in California looking for a new path for our research. The boss had an idea that delved into the top secret idea of atomic weaponry – a suitcase atomic bomb.

Like all requests for funds from the government, we had to present our plans to Wash-ington. So a meeting was set for the boss and me in Wash-ington. But it was an unusual meeting. It was held in a hotel

room rather than at the De-fense Department. We were given the hotel, the room number, the date and time but not with whom we were to meet. That was puzzling. The reason, we guessed, was that this was top secret stuff - atomic weaponry. The room could have been prepared with secret recording equip-ment or something.

OK – We showed up on the appointed date and time and sat down with our plans. In about five minutes there was a knock on the door and three well-dressed gentlemen en-tered.

The greeting exchange was pleasant. We stated who we were. They did not say who

they were or from where they came. They only said they were interested in our idea.

We then began to explain our plans for a suitcase bomb. In-termittently they would ask a question. But there was a min-imum of conversation. At the conclusion of our presenta-tion, they stood up, thanked us for our presentation and left.

We never heard another thing on our wonderful plan. Well, you win some and you lose some.

So we gave up atomic energy and returned to the electron-ic, aircraft navigation systems with which we were more fa-miliar.

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