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May/June 2013 Volume 13 Issue 3

“HOME”

Photo by Siri Bergheim

Winner in 2012 Photo Contest in the category of

“Jefferson’s Ferry.”

Margaret Pols, Editor

Phone 3177

Roy Miller, Editor Emeritus

Louise Bender, Secretary

Phone 3025

Gordon Hall, Proof Reader

Phone 2983

Dolores Cammarata

Phone 3018

Marty Petersen

Phone 2936

Ruth Regan

Phone 3107

Ferry Tales May/June 2013

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

Jefferson’s Ferry Life Care Community [email protected]

L to r: Ruth Regan, Bob Spann, Louise Bender, Alice Rhodes. Margaret Pols Dolores Cammarata, Linda Sharpley, Marty Petersen. Not shown, Gordon Hall.

2013 Residents Council Claire Donohue, Chair Bob Spann, Vice Chair Joe Zecca, Rec. Secy Joyce Edward, Corr. Secy Caroline Levine, Treasurer Marty Petersen Margaret Pols Irene Naughton

Dolores Zarzycki

Committees’ Chairpersons

The Editorial Staff

Committee Chair

Budget/Finance Bob Spann

Building Marty Petersen

Communications

Community Garden E. Hull/M. Brenner

Country Store Claire Baer

Conservation Bernie Tunik

Dining Services Christina Carroll

Election Chris Procopio

Exhibit Barbara Strongin

Grounds Chuck Darling

Committee Chair

Health Issues Ed Norris

Library Claire Donohue

Newsletter Margaret Pols

Parking Control Ernie Bodamer

Public Affairs Barbara Strongin

Social Activities Ellen Braunstein

Sunshine Jane Goor/ChrisProcopio

Welcoming Noel Burks

Workshop Marty Petersen

Louise Bender Interviews-

Dolores deLima

Cammarata

I n March, 1912, Juliette “Daisy” Low assembled 18 girls from Savannah Georgia for a local Girl Scout Meeting. She believed that all girls should be given the opportunity to develop physically, mentally and spiritually. Her goal was to bring girls out of isolated home environments and into community service and the open air. Girl Scouts hiked, played basketball, went on camping trips learned how to tell time by the stars and studied First Aid. This fit in with to-day’s official purpose of the Girl Scouts, which is to prepare girls for a constructive role in society.

The Girl Scout Movement was informed by the earlier Boy Scout movement. Five years earlier, in 1907, Robert Baden Powel, a British Army Lieuten-ant had formed a scouting group for boys, based on mili-tary scouting and military refer-ence books. He emphasized outdoor activities, and designed a uniform to eliminate any so-cial standing comparison. He also designed a system of badg-es, some of which are still in use today. Girl Scouting fol-lowed many of the same princi-ples.

“Our family moved to New Ro-chelle, New York when I was in seventh grade - a difficult time to make new friends,” say Dolores. Someone told me

about Scout Troop 20 and all their activities. It seemed a good way to get to know some of the girls in the community. The leader was Captain Mrs. Paul Weirick, whose husband played in Vincent Lopez’s or-chestra at the Hotel Taft in Manhattan.

“Like the Boy Scouts, we worked for Merit Badges, but, as you might expect in those days, ours were in such things as cooking, sewing and home-making. But there were other badges too, and since Mrs.Weirick loved to take her girls into the Manhattan, we could always be counted on to pursue any badges related to the theater, museums and the arts which would give us a reason (or an excuse) to go into the City.

“Those were wartime years, so we were also trained to identify the different airplane silhouettes at night. We were encouraged to remind our neighbors to use blackout shades to eliminate giving any aid to the enemy in case of air raid attacks. We were never asked to share our limited knowledge with any of-ficials, however.

“Rock Hill was the Girl Scout Camp at Lake Mahopac. It was primitive, and we slept four to a tent that had a wooden floor. When my daughter was a Girl Scout 30 years later, she attend-ed the same camp, where her primitive camping included dig-ging a drainage ditch around her tent. The camp is still in operation today.

“The Boy Scouts had their Ea-gle Scout Award; the Girl

Scouts had an equivalent called the Curved Bar, a special award that I achieved when I was a sophomore at St Gabriel’s High School. The New Rochelle newspaper headline read,

“TROOP 20 MEMBER GETS CURVED BAR:

Dolores deLima

Is First in City to Receive

Highest Award in Scouting.”

“Of course I was delighted with the award, but it was nothing in comparison to the many close friendships that made my teen age years so enjoyable and ex-citing. When I moved away from New Rochelle many years later, I still had my uniform and all the badges. I called the local Scouts Historical center and asked if they would like to have it, they were delighted to get such treasure from Scouting all those years ago.”

Today, Wikopdia says that the Girl Scouts of America has a membership of 3.2 Million girls and adults, many of whom, like Dolores, are seeking to make new friends and find new and wholesome activities during their formative years.

GIRL SCOUTSGIRL SCOUTSGIRL SCOUTS———MORE THAN JUST GOOD COOKIESMORE THAN JUST GOOD COOKIESMORE THAN JUST GOOD COOKIES


by Danielle Ofri, MD, Ph.D

Submitted by

Christina Carroll

W hen a snarling Hurricane Sandy knocked the lights out at Bellevue Hospital Center on that Monday night, the staff murmured a collective chant: “One-Mississippi, two-Missis- sippi, three-Mississippi…….”

We’d been told that if the elec-tricity came back on before we hit “ten-Mississippi,” then the backup generators were work-ing fine. A communal sigh was heaved when the count stopped short of double digits. Ventila-tors and intravenous (IV) pumps hummed on without a hitch. Downstairs, however, water was pouring into the basement, inundating the eleva-tor shafts and disabling all 32 elevators.

At 10 p.m. it was realized that the basement fuel pumps were submerged and could not bring fuel to the emergency generator on the 13th floor. If that genera-tor tank was not replenished by midnight, all power to the hos-pital would be lost.

Oxygen tanks and interns were stationed at the bedside of every patient on a ventilator, just in case. Nonessential electricity was turned off. The collective pulse of the staff notched up toward tachycardic, though ex-ternally everyone remained fo-cused and calm.

Within the hour, a fuel truck from the New York Police De-partment showed up. An im-promptu bucket brigade was formed: Five-gallon jugs were

filled from the truck and then passed, hand to hand, from maintenance workers to facili-ties managers to doctors, tech-nicians, and clerical staff who lined the darkened stairwell.

Within two hours, 500 gallons of fuel had been lugged up to the 13th floor until the generator tank was full. Electrical power never faltered again for the du-ration of the crisis.

There was another ticking clock, however—the water sup-ply. Rooftop tanks feed the hospital by means of gravity, but the pumps that haul the wa-ter 200 feet up to those tanks had been damaged by the flood-ing. The tanks held about a day’s worth of water—enough to last until Tuesday evening. There was still hope that the pumps could be repaired soon, enabling the water system to function. Nevertheless, the bulk of the day on Tuesday was devoted to transferring patients who were at high risk to other New York City hospitals in case the situation did not im-prove. One by one, all the pa-

tients were carried down the stairs by emergency medical technicians and taken to local hospitals.

Late on Tuesday, however, the water pressure be-gan to diminish, and by evening the water supply had run out. National Guard troops had arrived and were jogging tanks of water upstairs, but it was impossible to keep up with the water needs. When 1,000 toilets stop flushing—well, let’s just say that the tenor or life is altered.

The most intractable problem was the lack of access to the basement to attempt repairs. Water levels were 6 feet in most places, but up to 14 feet on the loading docks. Emer-gency teams were pumping wa-ter out of the basement as fast as they could, but progress was slow. The repair shops, eleva-tor bases, and fuel pumps were all under water. Upstairs, med-ical care was proceeding sur-prisingly smoothly. Runners were posted on every floor to ferry messages and supplies. And this being Manhattan, de-liveries of pizza and Chinese take-out food never flagged—though it was the doctors, nurs-es, and medical assistants who had to carry it up 17 flights of stairs.

Evacuation plans were dis-cussed throughout the night on Tuesday, and coordination be-

SANDY AND ITS AFTERMATHSANDY AND ITS AFTERMATHSANDY AND ITS AFTERMATH


Elevators during Hurricane Sandy

gan Wednesday morning. Pri-ority lists were generated by each clinical service. Adminis-trators coordinated efforts be-tween hospitals. Ambulances from all over the country lined up by the entrance. The Na-tional Guard was mobilized to undertake the heavy lifting.

What transpired next can only be described as breathtaking. There was certainly tension in the air, but the evacuation was smooth, calm, and orderly. The sickest patients were brought down first. Then the hospital was evacuated ward by ward into the early hours of Wednes-day morning. Patients who couldn’t walk were carried down on sleds by the National Guard troops, accompanied by medical chaperones.

At the ground floor, each pa-tient was met by a medical team. Discharge instructions, clinical status and transfer plans were rechecked. The process encompassed everyone from neonates to the elderly, psychi-atric patients, pregnant patients, numerous patients who spoke no English and patients from Rikers Island prison, from both the medical-surgical and psy-chiatric forensic wards.

By the time the operation was finished on Thursday morning, only two patients remained in the hospital. Their medical conditions necessitated an ele-vator for safe transport. These patients were cared for in-house while emergency repair crews pumped some ten million gal-lons of seawater out of the base-ment.

By Friday, workers could enter the basement to assess damage and begin repairs. Within 36 hours, one elevator was rehabil-itated, and the last two patients were safely evacuated. By 6:30 p.m. on Saturday, November third, Bellevue was empty of patients—probably the first time since it opened its doors on March 31, 1736.

The night after the bulk of the patients had been evacuated, I walked past the hospital. Low-er Manhattan was still without power, and First Avenue was eerily black. Belleview sat dark and silent, like a hulking Henry Moore sculpture. It suddenly looked so fragile to me, so for-lorn.

Everyone is justly proud of the remarkable feat that occurred during the hurricane. The self-less and seamless cooperation among clinicians, administra-tors, staff members, facilities workers, National Guard troops, and emergency officials was nothing short of extraordinary. Every single patient was safely and smoothly transferred, but it was hard to restrain our heart-ache at seeing this grande dame of hospitals drained of its life-blood of medical activity.

More than 500 of Bellevue’s doctors and physician assistants, and hundreds of other staff mem-bers and medical students were sent to various local hospitals. Though the evacuation during the hurricane was a dramatic event, the number of inpatients affected (500 evacuated and 275 discharged) was quite small compared with the tens of thou-sands of patients who rely on Bellevue for their medical care.

The doctors in my clinic—internal medicine—had set up camp at Metropolitan Hospital, another NYC public hospital, in a tiny concrete block annex in a parking lot. The experience was humbling and disorienting for us, perhaps a taste of what life is like for our patients as they navi-gate the health care system in normal times.

Those of us who returned to Bellevue in the first wave were deliriously grateful to treat our first patients at home. But we would do well to hang on to some of the unsettling feeling of displacement. It may prove to be an unexpected gift of empathy for our patients’ experiences.

UPDATE: On February 8, 2013, Newsday reported:

Bellevue Hospital, the 276 year old landmark hospital for the poor has fully reopened for the first time since it was badly dam-aged when Hurricane Sandy sent the East River pouring into its basement.

The storied Manhattan hospital reopened its trauma center, its intensive care units and its ma-ternity ward and began admit-ting patients to its 828 beds. …

SANDY AND ITS AFTERMATH (cont’d)SANDY AND ITS AFTERMATH (cont’d)SANDY AND ITS AFTERMATH (cont’d)


Bellevue Hospital, New York City

By Alice Rhodes

T oday’s news often includes dire predictions that the U. S. Postal System is approaching extinction or at least drastically curtailed services. Taking a walk back in history, we dis-cover that this is not the first time the system has face diffi-culty.

For much of the 1600’s the scattered Colonies had no orga-nized postal system. Messages were entrusted to travelers, neighbors, servants, and slaves, and even to friendly American Indians. Taverns or inns served as places to drop off or pick up mail.

In 1672 New York Governor Francis Lovelace tried to start a regular monthly mail service between New York and Boston. The post rider had to decide on the best possible route, and then blaze a trail by marking trees! The first rider left the settle-ment of New York at the tip of Manhattan in January 1673. His first stop was in the village of Harlem where he dropped off the mail at the designated cof-fee house. This experiment end-ed when England regained con-trol of the area in 1674. Mail moved, but not as part of a gov-ernment scheme.

In the South, mail consisted pri-marily of official documents and correspondence with Brit-ain. Most of the population was spread out on large plantations. In 1660 the Virginia legislature ordered that “all mail “concerning ‘His Majesty,’ be immediately conveyed from

plantation to plantation on pain of fine of 350 lbs. of tobacco.”

In 1691-1692 King William and Queen Mary granted a royal patent to Thomas Neale, a Member of Parliament, to set up a Colonial postal system. However, the individual Colo-nies were not required to partic-ipate in the system and those that did negotiated their own rules.

The “Internal Colonial Postal Union” began weekly service on May 1, 1693. Rates for let-ters from New York to or from Europe, West Indies, and other foreign destinations were 9 pen-nies; from Virginia, 12 pennies, and from any place within 80 miles of New York, four pence, half penny. Expenses exceeded revenue, however, and the sys-tem began consistently losing money. The Colonists were dissatisfied with the service, reliability, and limited coverage and complained that letters were opened and read by others en route! Queen Anne was also unhappy with the postal system, so in 1710 she overhauled both the British and Colonial postal systems.

The British Post Office Act of 1710 significantly raised rates for transoceanic mail, and many Colonists regarded the postal rates as an unjust tax. In 1732 Governor Spotswood was named deputy Postmaster Gen-eral, and he appointed Benja-min Franklin postmaster of Philadelphia. In 1753, Frank-lin and William Hunter, Post-master of Williamsburg. VA, were named joint Postmasters General for the Colonies.

For the next 21 years the Colo-nial postal service enjoyed a golden era. In 1737, it had tak-en post riders six weeks to make a round trip between Phil-adelphia and Boston. Franklin and Hunter cut that from six weeks to three, and established a weekly schedule – year round -between Philadelphia and Bos-ton. Later, with the use of night post riders, a letter could go from Philadelphia to Boston in six days. With improved deliv-ery and schedules, the system made the first profits in 1760.

Trouble recurred in 1774. Con-cerned about his involvement in the growing Independence Movement, the British Govern-ment fired Franklin. They also prohibited sending the newspa-per “The Maryland Journal” through the mail, because of the dissenting opinions of William Goddard, its editor.

Outraged. Goddard hired riders and launched the “Constitutional Post,” as a way for colonies to communicate securely during the prelude to Revolution. Goddard became known as the Father of the American Postal system.

In 1775, Goddard’s sister Mary Katherine, also a printer and newspaper editor, became the

NEITHER RAIN NOR SNOW…..NEITHER RAIN NOR SNOW…..NEITHER RAIN NOR SNOW…..


Postmistress of Baltimore. In 1777 she printed the first copies of the Declaration of Independ-ence including the names of the signers, thus earning her lasting fame.

When the Continental Congress convened in 1775, it assumed responsibility for the postal sys-tem, appointing Franklin as postmaster general. The postal service was responsible for maintaining rapid communica-tion between Congress and the armies. Civilian needs were a secondary concern.

In 1781 the Articles of Confed-eration empowered Congress to establish post offices. Ebenezer Hazard, postmaster general from 1782 to 1789, established service to the frontiers, con-tracting with stagecoach com-panies to carry mail. He also established regular service to Europe, and reduced the time for mail between New York and Philadelphia to as little as 22 hours.

When the US Constitution was ratified in 1789, the new federal government took control of the postal system. At that time, there were 75 post offices, mostly in cities, and 2,400 miles of post roads serving about four million people. This resulted in a series of acts defin-ing rates, routes, and other de-tails. Postage for newspapers was deeply discounted, based on the belief that it was “…absolutely necessary for the central government to distribute information throughout the land, the postal system being the only suitable medium.”

By 1824 the United States had

74 post offices for every

100,000 inhabitants, Great Brit-

ain had 17 per 100,000, and

France 4 per 100,000.

In the early 1800’s postage for

letters was based on distance to

travel and number of sheets of

paper. After 1816 it cost 25

cents—a significant amount at

that time—to send a single

sheet letter more than 400

miles. Addressees, not senders,

typically paid the postage.

Home delivery was rare, even

in large cities and cost an addi-

tional 2 cents per letter. Not

surprisingly, letter writers filled

every bit of space on a sheet of

paper, including margins.

Some even tried to conceal

messages in the cheaper-to-mail

newspapers.

High rates and growing dissatis-

faction called for postal reform.

In 1845, the Department of the

Post Office adopted the now

familiar weight-based rating

system. Postage fees on letters

were drastically reduced; rates

still varied according to dis-

tance to travel.

As citizens learned they could

depend on a regular system to

send and deliver messages, they

developed the habit of writing

letters, and the volume of letters

grew slowly. Nevertheless, let-

ters were rare and precious.

People saved correspondence,

and a huge treasure trove of let-

ters is now available to histori-

ans, genealogists, and others

interested in our country’s his-

tory.

In 1770, Americans posted only

about 300,000 letters; in 1830

the number had risen to 14 mil-

lion or about one letter per free

person. Thanks to the reforms

from 1840-1860 the number of

letters rose to about 161 million

annually.

With no street—corner mail-boxes and home or business delivery, post offices became bustling centers for all levels of society. This resulted, in the mid-1880’s, in a massive post office construction boom. An interesting situation arose—bizarre though it sounds today. Women, no longer having to rely on others to carry their cor-respondence, could now send and pick up correspondence at Post Offices. Suspicion was of-ten cast on this practice. Were they out on innocent errands or to further a clandestine relation-ship, or worst of all--to meet a lover?! Interestingly, there were some grounds for suspi-cion. Prostitutes and their cus-tomers regularly used the “drop mail” service—letters posted to and received at, the same post office—to arrange liaisons! The growth of busy urban post of-fices prompted architects to de-sign separate entrances and ves-

NEITHER RAIN NOR SNOW… (con’t)NEITHER RAIN NOR SNOW… (con’t)NEITHER RAIN NOR SNOW… (con’t)


tibules for ladies—consensus being that they needed shelter from the coarseness of common crowds! During the Civil War proponents of separate facilities argued that they provided some measure of privacy for women who might receive tragic news about a loved one at war.

As late as 1908 city letter - car-riers hand-delivered mail to customers. If a customer failed to answer the carrier’s knock, ring, or whistle, he kept it until the next trip. By 1912 new cus-tomers were required to provide mail slots or receptacles, and by1923 they were required of all city customers.

Today, communications techno-

NEITHER RAIN NOR SNOW … (cont’d)NEITHER RAIN NOR SNOW … (cont’d)NEITHER RAIN NOR SNOW … (cont’d)


logy is truly astonishing, But

let’s remember those whose vi-

sion, hard work, and courage

were responsible for developing

the Postal System, which has

served our citizens so superbly

through the years. Let’s tip our

hats to the post riders, the stage-

coach drivers, Benjamin Frank-

lin with his innovations to im-

prove the postal system, and all

the other patriots who realized

the necessity and value of mail

service for the survival of our

nation. And lastly, let’s never

forget the neighborhood mail

carrier who has and will contin-

ue to be, such an important part

of our lives.

HOW MUCH DO YOU KNOW ABOUT NYC?

We’ve got a lot of people here who grew up or spent a lot of time in the Big Apple. Then again, sometimes tourists know more about the city than the Natives. How much do you know about NYC? Can you match up the items in Column 1 with the definitions in Column 2?

ANSWERS

1. 1939 Fair Grounds a. Ebbets Field 1 = ________

2. Bottom of Manhattan b. Fraunces Tavern 2 = ________

3. Planetarium c. The Cloisters 3 = ________

4. Top of Manhattan d. High Rider in Coney Island 4 = ________

5. Grant’s Tomb e. Polo Grounds 5 = ________

6. Guggenheim f. On the Meadows in Queens 6 = ________

7. Dem Bum’s Hangout g. A Circle on Fifth 7 =________

8. Home of the Giants h. Battery Park 8 =________

9. Wonder Wheel i. Museum of Natural History 9 =________

10. George Washington Ate Here j. Overlooking the Hudson 10 =________

Answers on Page 13

Louise Bender Chats with

CHRIS PROCOPIO

“When I am an old woman I shall wear purple, with a red hat which doesn’t go” …

says the poem, Warming, by Jenny Joseph. Inspired by that quote, the Red Hat Society was formed to en-gage middle-age and older women in fun activities.

Early in our history, the women of Jefferson’s Ferry established their own chapter, which they named “The Scarlet Ladies.” Displaying their usual imagination and enthusi-asm, they donned unique purple outfits and red hats which they dis-played during regular meetings and when they went on outings. Louise Bender comments, “ Most women love fashion. Whenever we go out as a group wearing our red hats and special outfits we get lots of atten-tion and smiles.”

“Our Scarlet Ladies are more than just a fashion statement,” writes Chris Procopio, the ‘Queen Moth-er.’ “We meet on the average of once a month for fun activities sug-gested by the members. Over the past 10 years we’ve put on three fashion shows for the residents, each one different and with a sur-prise element. Male residents serve as escorts. Beginning in 2011 we invited JF staff to participate. Ka-ren Brannen, Michelle Fedrow, Elisa Gargon and their escorts, Bob Caulfield, and Chris Adamo have walked our runway.

“Early on, (2005) we strutted our stuff on the Jones Beach Board-walk with other Red Hat Chapters of Long Island. As we walked along the boardwalk, each Chapter carried a banner with its group’s name. Our banner was in the shape of a large red hat decorated with purple and red flowers and feathers.

We were very visible and had a great time.

“Another successful event was our High Tea, to which we in-vited ‘The Crimson Chicks,’ a Red Hat chapter from Miller Place. We transformed the the-ater into a garden-like setting and every Scarlet Lady brought her own tea set and table set-ting. Dining services provided tea sandwiches and scones. Our guests were very impressed.

“Due to the limited size and availability of our bus we can-not take part in all Long Island Chapter activities, but we create our own fun, going to movies, the Stony Brook Cultural Cen-ter, dining at different ethnic restaurants, going on boat rides and planning events at Jeffer-son’s Ferry, including interest-ing speakers to our meetings.’’

Ruth Ammerman adds, “we don’t always do the same things. And our activities change from year to year. Last year we went to a Miniature Golf Course.” “Who won?” we asked. She replied, “I don’t know. Everybody got a prize!”

A few years ago, the Red Hat-ters purchased Kazoos, the offi-

cial musical instrument of the So-ciety. They learned to play You Are My Sunshine with words changed to fit their own activities. With the help of Carol Fenter, the Ladies played and sang this origi-nal song at the 2011 Fashion Show. (See Photo)

“Although our purpose is to have fun and be frivolous, we do take on some serious projects, such as selling the delicious desserts pre-pared by Dining Services at our Fruit Festival, the Bake Sale for Breast Cancer Awareness, and wherever we see a need. Last Summer, under sunny skies, our festival was held around the pond where our bright red hats and pur-ple outfits were complimented by the large white tents erected by JF staff.

“We are always interested in new activities. The entire community enthusiastically participates in our Chinese Auction. Since 2007 these events each have raised over $400. About half of this money is contributed to the JF Foundation.

“Our membership continues to grow, but there is always room for more. Annual dues are $5. If you have room in your life for some fun and foolishness, you should come and join us!

WHEN I AM AN OLD WOMAN…. WHEN I AM AN OLD WOMAN…. WHEN I AM AN OLD WOMAN….

Ferry Tales May/June page 9

The Scarlet LTThhe adies with their Kazoos

Alice Rhodes

Interviews Ken Draigh

W henever great need arises, natural disasters, political unrest or just the lack of basic human needs and services, there are many individuals and humani-tarian organizations ready to step forward and carry out life-saving work. One of our Jeffer-son’s Ferry residents, Ken Draigh, recently returned from serving in an important and worthy humanitarian effort on behalf of the needy people of rural Honduras.

The story really began over ten years ago in Philadelphia, when four friends co-founded a pro-gram to address some of the medical needs of the people of rural Honduras. They called the organization “KHISH,” or Kurtz Humanitarian Initiative for Southern Honduras,” – Kurtz being the name of one of the founders.

Five years later another of the co-founders, Pastor Richard Graugh, came to the Presbyteri-an Church in Port Jefferson. As part of his new call, the session granted permission for Pastor Richard to continue his work for KHISH, travelling for one week each year to Honduras. Other members of the congre-gation were invited to join him. Ken Draigh, fluent in Spanish, volunteered, and every January for the past four years he has traveled with the mission to Central America.

On January 5, 2013, Pastor Richard and Ken set out from LaGuardia on a 7 AM flight for Tegucigalpa, Honduras, where

they met other members of the team and a local KHISH repre-sentative. After lunch, they boarded vans provided by Hon-duran drivers and left for a 3 hour drive over the mountains to Macaome, where they settled into the Hotel Real Vista Her-mosa. Ken described what hap-pened next:

“The American contingent con-sisted of 16 people – 3 doctors, 2 medical students, 1 dentist and a dental student, 1 nurse and 1 pharmacist. The rest of the group had various skills to offer such as construction and administration. The Honduran group consisted of 1 doctor, 3 drivers and several translators. A representative of the Presby-terian Church USA also joined the group for a week.

“The following day, Sunday, we left our hotel at 8 AM and went to the Presbyterian Church in Macaome where we set up a clinic. Pastor Richard and I worked the registration desk, filling out a registration form for each patient, making a name tag and taking a picture for identification. After that, a nurse took temperatures and blood pressures. Then the pa-tient went to whichever doctor was available for further exami-nation. At the rear of the church a pharmacy had been set up to fill prescriptions. Ninety-four patients were registered that day.

“We returned to the hotel, and some of our group went to the local supermarket to buy cans of tuna fish, peanut butter, jelly, bread, banana chips and soda for lunch for the next few days.

One of the doctors had been given a large quantity of sample sizes of soap, shampoo, toothbrushes, etc. Everything had to be sorted out and one of each was put in a zip-loc bag. 250 bags would be handed out to patients during the week. Also large jars containing pills had to be broken down into smaller quantities and put in baggies in order to help the pharmacist fill individual pre-scriptions.

“On Monday, we left the hotel at 8 and rode along a dirt road that wound its way up the mountains to the remote village of Puerto Grande, arriving about 9 AM. Our workplace was the Presbyterian Church, which again we converted as much as possible into a clinic. 160 patients got medical care this day.

“Each day’s work schedule was about the same as the day before. On Tuesday we worked in Moropo-cay, another remote mountain vil-lage, processing 170 patients.

“On Wednesday we had a break. The week before our group arrived in Honduras, several ophthalmolo-gists and optometrists had done eye examinations and performed cata-

BRINGING HOPE AND HEALTH TO HONDURASBRINGING HOPE AND HEALTH TO HONDURASBRINGING HOPE AND HEALTH TO HONDURAS


Ken and Dr. Barbara Olsen, Pediatric

Neurosurgeon, prepare packets.

ract surgery in a clinic in San Lorenzo, a coastal town on the Pacific. Our doctors had to go to San Lorenzo to provide post-op care. Consequently, the rest of us had free time. I opted to stay in the hotel and recoup!

“On Friday, the last work day in Honduras, the group returned to Puerto Grande where 103 pa-tients were processed. Howev-er, the work stopped early in the afternoon for a very special event.

“For several years, a group of engineers from New Jersey called “Engineers for Living Water in the World” had been working in Honduras to set up a water purification system.

Since impure water was a source of many of the ailments seen by the medi-cal team, all were anxious to celebrate the opening of the build-ing housing the purifica-

tion ma-chinery. Now the

people would be taught how to operate the machinery which, for the first time, would provide pure drinking water and water for cooking and washing.

“Everyone gathered outside the local church. There was music and a party atmosphere as the minister cut the ribbon to the building housing the machinery. Now all the guests were given paper cups filled with water from the new purification apparatus. Together they were to raise the cup and drink the purified water. Ken did as asked, albeit with some trepidation - he explained that for their entire time in Hon-duras, he had been careful to use only bottled water for drinking and brushing teeth. This, howev-

er, was more than just a drink of water. It was a mutual adven-ture they were sharing with the local people.

“The next day, Saturday morn-ing, everyone left at 6 AM for the airport. After a long delay, the flight left at 2 PM. arriving at LaGuardia at around 10 PM.

Ken said that “life is hard for these people who don’t seem to have much of a future, yet they continue on.” He estimated that approximately 900 patients received some sort of medical care during this latest trip to Honduras. The real satisfaction for the team was to observe that those patients who had been seen in the clinics in previous years showed considerable im-provements in their health. These heartening facts are in-deed a testimony to the unself-ish efforts of a small group of people who continue to make life a little better for worthy people caught in circumstances beyond their control.”

We applaud all the selfless work performed by the Hondu-ran Medical Mission, and thank you, Ken, Pastor Richard, and all the staff who help make the world a better place.

BRINGING HOPE & HEALTH TO HONDURAS (cont’)BRINGING HOPE & HEALTH TO HONDURAS (cont’)BRINGING HOPE & HEALTH TO HONDURAS (cont’)


So, Lord help me not to gripe about The tough roads that I’ve hoed; Just give me strength and courage when the way grows steep and rough. And may I never be too busy To help others with their load. Then I’ll keep drinking from my saucer ‘cause my cup has overflowed.

Shared by Ida Fiore

Haven’t got a lot of riches,, And sometimes the goin’s rough. I’ve loved ones around me And that makes me rich enough. I thank God for my blessings And the mercies God’s bestowed I’m drinking from my saucer ‘cause my cup has overflowed.

I’M DRINKING FROM MY SAUCER (AUTHOR UNKNOWN)

I’ve never made a fortune And it’s probably too late now I don’t worry about that much I’m happy anyhow. And as I go along life’s way I’m reaping better than I sow. I’m drinking from my saucer ‘cause my cup has overflowed.

Ken and Dr. Barbara Olsen, Pediatric

Neurosurgeon, prepare packets.

Welcoming Patients in Honduras

Submitted by

ROY MILLER

T here is an old Hotel Pub in Marble Arch, London, which used to have gallows adjacent. Prisoners were taken to the gal-lows (after a fair trial, of course) to be hung. The horse-drawn dray carting the prisoner was accompanied by an armed guard who would stop the dray outside the pub and ask the pris-oner if he would like “one last drink.” If he said “Yes”, it was referred to as “one for the road.” If he declined, that pris-oner was “on the wagon.”

They used to use urine to tan animal skins, so all families used to pee in a pot, and then once a day it was taken and sold to a tannery. If you had to do this to survive you were “piss poor,” but worse than that were the really poor folk who could-n’t even afford to buy a pot. They “didn’t have a pot to piss in” and were the lowest of the low.

The next time you are washing your hands and complain be-cause the water temperature is-n’t just how you like it, think about how things used to be. Here are some facts about the 1500s:

Most people got married in June because they took their yearly bath in May, and they still smelled pretty good by June. However, since they were starting to smell, brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the body odor. (Hence the custom today of carrying a bou-quet when getting married.)

Baths consisted of a big tub

filled with hot water. The man of the house had the privilege of the nice clean water. Then all

the other sons and men used it, then the women and children. Last of all, the babies. By then the water was

so dirty you could actually lose someone in it. Hence the say-ing, “Don’t throw the baby out with the bath water!”

Houses had thatched roofs, thick straw piled high, with no wood underneath. It was the only place for animals to get warm, so all the cats and other small animals (mice, bugs) lived in the roof. When it rained it be-came slippery and sometimes the animals would slip and fall off the roof, hence the saying “It’s raining cats and dogs.”

There was nothing to stop things from falling into the house. This posed a real problem in the bed-room where bugs and other droppings could mess up your nice clean bed. Hence a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some pro-tection. That’s how canopy beds came into existence.

The floor was dirt. Only the wealthy had something other than dirt. Hence the saying “dirt poor.”

The wealthy had slate floors that would get slippery in the winter when wet, so they spread thresh (straw) on the floor to help keep their footing. As the winter wore on, they added more thresh

until, when you opened the door, it would all start slipping outside. A piece of wood was placed in the entrance, hence a threshold.

In those old days they cooked in the kitchen with a big kettle that always hung over the fire. Every day they lit the fire and added things to the pot. They ate mostly vegetables and did not get much meat. They would eat the stew for dinner, leaving the leftovers in the pot to get cold overnight and then start over the next day. Some-times stew had food in it that had been there for quite a while. Hence the rhyme, “Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old.”

Sometimes they could obtain pork, which made them feel quite special. When visitors came over, they would hang up their bacon to show off. It was a sign of wealth that a man could “bring home the bacon.” They would cut off a little to share with guests and all would sit around talking and “chew the fat.”

Those with money had plates made of pewter. Food with high acid content caused some of the lead to leach onto the food, causing lead poisoning and death. This happened most often with tomatoes, so for the next 400 years or so, tomatoes were considered poisonous.

Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burned bottom of the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top (or the upper crust.)

Lead cups were used to drink

WHERE DID THAT EXPRESSION COME FROM? WHERE DID THAT EXPRESSION COME FROM? WHERE DID THAT EXPRESSION COME FROM?


ale or whisky, which would sometimes knock imbibers out for a couple of days. Someone would take them for dead and prepare them for burial. They were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days and the fam-ily would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see if the person would “wake up.” Hence

the custom of “holding a wake.”

When local folks started run-ning out of places to bury peo-ple, they would dig up coffins and reuse the grave. One out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside. They realized they had been burying people alive. As a re-sult, they would tie a string on

the wrist of the corpse, lead it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie a bell to it. Someone would sit out in the graveyard all night (the graveyard shift) to listen for the bell. Thus, someone could be “saved by the bell.”

WHERE DID THAT EXPRESSION COME FROM?WHERE DID THAT EXPRESSION COME FROM?WHERE DID THAT EXPRESSION COME FROM?


From the Editor’s Desk

Hope you enjoyed our little quiz about New York City on Page 8. Here are the

ANSWERS

1. 1939 World’s Fair was based in Flushing Meadow in Queens (f). The globe is still visible from the LIE, and several other buildings can be seen along the water from the Cross Island Parkway.

2. At he Bottom of Manhattan is Battery Park (h). Catch your ferry there to Staten Island or the Statue of Liberty. Bonus Question: What is the name of the Island is the Statue on?

3. The Planetarium is a part of the Museum of Natural History (i) on the upper West Side. This was al-ways a favorite class trip for many Public School children in the City.

4. At the Top of Manhattan can be found the Cloisters (c,) a lovely, peaceful spot in the shadow of the George Washington Bridge.

5. Grant’s Tomb stands Overlooking the Hudson (j) on Riverside Drive at 120 St. Bonus Question: Do you know who is buried there?

6. The Guggenheim Museum can be described as (g) A Circle on Fifth avenue at 88th St. Designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, it is world famous for its unique circular shape.

7. “Dem Bum’s” was a pet name for the Brooklyn Dodgers, and their famous hangout was (a) Ebbets Field. The Dodgers left Brooklyn in 1957.

8. The New York Giants, also known as the Bronx Bombers, called the Polo Grounds (e) in the Bronx their home from 1883—1957.

9. The Wonder Wheel is a huge, 150 foot high double Ferris Wheel in Coney Island (d.) Cars move not only around the rim of the wheel but also vertically between the two circles.

10. George Washington ate at (b.) Fraunces Tavern. Further, in 1783, he addressed his troops at this Lower Manhattan restaurant, and for a while it was the headquarters of the Continental Congress.

Now, here’s the challenge: If you got 6 or more of these right, I bet you know enough about New York

City to submit an article for our special November issue, which will be devoted to “EAST SIDE, WEST

SIDE, ALL AROUND NEW YORK.” You can either write it up yourself, or contact a member of the

Editorial Staff and we’ll assign someone to interview you and write the article.

A True story

by Lotti Hunstein

M y little son found him in the grass under the tree - a Rob-in that had fallen out of his nest. We could not put him back into the nest, even if we could have reached it, because, we feared, the mother bird would have re-jected him after human hands had touched him, so we took him inside our house.

The bird was very young and could not even try to fly be-cause its wing and tail feathers had not fully grown. His little beak was still very yellow, and it seemed to stretch from “ear to ear” on its tiny head. He could not sit on a branch yet, so I fashioned a little nest on a branch and secured it in a plas-tic woven wash basket. When-ever we left him the basket had to be covered because we had a large dog, and I did not want to tempt him to harm the new ten-ant.

Now the project to keep the bird alive began in earnest. I knew from observation that adult Robins feed on worms which they pull up from the ground, especially after a rain. I dug some up and kept them handy in a jar with loose dirt. I cut little pieces and fed the bird with a tweezer. He was a hun-gry bird, alright, and its little beak opened as soon as I made contact with the tweezer. Occa-sionally I also put a drop of wa-ter in with an eye dropper, guessing about how much was needed for that.

As Robin grew bigger, I had a fulltime job. Since his eyes had not been open when he fell out of the nest and he never saw his mother, I had somehow become his mother!

As he got bigger, at least once a day I would put him on my pointer-finger and, holding his little talons down, I’d move my hand up and down to flap his wings to teach him to fly. The day arrived when he flew around in the kitchen and land-ed himself on my shoulder. He was very tame, and was abso-lutely not afraid of our hands.

At night he slept under the cov-er in his basket on the branch inside the house. Eventually I had to put him out on the porch because he became very noisy in the early morning hours, peeping so loud that it woke me up, telling me he wanted to be fed.

When summer came and the ground was parched I went across the street to a little creek to dig for worms in the moist ground. As soon as the bird

saw me pick up a spade, he was on my shoulder, knowing the routine. As soon as I turned over a shovelful of dirt he flew to the ground, tilting his head to the side, looking with one eye to see if there was a worm. But he did not pick the worm up. I had to lift it and hold it above his head and hand feed it to him. Realizing that he had

to be taught to feed himself, I got an empty coffee can, put dirt and worms in it and turned it on its side, placing him again and again into it. He finally got the idea, and when I stopped feeding him, he finally made it to independence.

He surprised us, and himself! one day when we came back from shopping in the car. He flew off the front porch and across the street, landing on the hot fender. After he discovered his wings he ventured further. I often shooed him away, hoping he would start making contact with other birds. But when I whistled and called his name he returned to the porch.

In the Fall we had to leave our farm in Pennsylvania and return to Long Island. We hoped Rob-in would join other birds mi-grating to warmer climate until the next spring. It is said that robins return every year to the place they were born. We saw that happen every March 3rd like clockwork, and whenever I saw a robin come back, I al-ways imaged perhaps it was ours.

RAISING A FLEDGLINGRAISING A FLEDGLINGRAISING A FLEDGLING


90 YEAR OLD GOES BOWLING

Charlotte Lang

told this story to Dolores Cammarata

I t had been 50 years since Charlotte Lang last bowled, but when Jefferson’s Ferry planned a trip to Port Jeff Bowl, she de-cided, “Why Not?” So she put on her Land’s End slippers and headed for the bus, where she joined Max Saltzman and Bill and Angie Daly. When they reached the bowling alley, they were welcomed by Tom Bran-nock, the manager, who was ready to give a little extra help to the Seniors. After providing a good lunch of a wrap and a drink “to give them strength,” he assisted them in picking out exactly the right ball, suitable for the size and strength of their fingers. He even allowed Char-lotte to bowl in her slippers in-stead of renting bowling shoes. The bowling lanes had bumpers on either side of the lanes to keep the balls out of the gutters. The digital scoring was a big improvement over hand-scoring she remembered from years ago.

Charlotte bowled a spectacular 79, and she she seems to recall that Max’s score was over 100.

Clearly, even for those who are 90 or more, bowling can be a lot of fun, and Charlotte hopes others will join them on the next trip to Port Jeff Bowling.

bird with the box, the bird would es-cape, fly-ing up the hall to-ward me

where I stood waving my arms in an effort to head him off. After a few minutes, this pas de deus was finally successful. Gary was able to jam the box up against the door with the bird trapped inside, then slip the plastic between the door and the box. Aha! the bird was truly caught.

With the bird wrapped in the plastic we walked to and out the front door. The last we saw it was flying high over our heads

SHORT TALESSHORT TALESSHORT TALES


A BIRD IN HAND

by Siri Bergheim

Early on a February morning, we all got up to see 2 feet of snow covering Jefferson’s Fer-ry. It was beautiful, but a big challenge for the JF staff who had to clear it. The roads were in pretty good shape but the sidewalks had not been cleared, so the doors could be opened.

Feeling a bit “house-bound,” I decided to “hike” up and down the halls. As I started toward door #8, I could see a bird beating its wings against the window panes. The bird was on the Inside! As I ap-proached, the bird flew over my head and into the hall. I tried to open the door but it was impossible. As I stood quietly the bird flew back to the door, again flapping its wings in an effort to get out.

What to do? Well, first, I called the front desk to report this event, and second, I went to get some water for the bird. As I returned with the water, here came Gary, Security Guard and Big Game Hunter. In the rubbish closet he found a big piece of plastic and a plastic box. Then the fun be-gan. As Gary tried to trap the

ANNOYED?

PUZZLED?

CONFUSED?

A couple of residents, in-spired by our story about Ann Landers, have decided to write a similar column—Advice to the Age-Worn (or maybe you can suggest a better name….)

Do you have concerns about your love life? Do you worry about your career direction? Do your adolescent grandchildren disregard your advice about fam-ily matters?

If so, drop a line to Advisors, c/o the Editor, Cubby 7377, and they will do their best to help you.

Jefferson’s Ferry Tales takes no responsibility for the outcomes of their advice.

“home” - jeffersonsferry.org environments and into community service and the open ... robert...

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