I have been under the weather for the past several days and haven't had much energy. Will see the doc this afternoon. I'll get back to all of you as soon as possible. Thanks for your patience.
Your favorite blogger,
Sandra
Monday, January 30, 2012
Monday, January 23, 2012
What's Your Philosophy of Life?
Yes, I know this will probably be a “heady” blog this week, but I’ve been thinking about all the coincidences in my life and why they came to be. Was it fate, karma, the will of God, or just plain meant to be. I will include some other folks’ thoughts on the subject of life in general. I don’t think we’ll ever know the answer to the fate question, but I’ll give you some examples from my own life.
Some of the coincidences in my life, involving both people and events, I believe eventually shaped the person I became. Have you had similar experiences that may have done the same for you?
I once dated two men with the exact same name. Neither one knew of the other’s existence. They were both of similar size and coloring; near the same age; had similar personalities. Their last name, Stone, was not all that common where I was living at the time. How did I keep them straight, you say; and how did I keep the other one secret? Good question.
What I do remember is how polite and considerate they both were. I had fun with both of them and went on dates that were not the norm like going to the track and watching stock-car races. I was pretty lucky with betting on the horses. One of the Daves always let me pick the horses because of that fact. One time we had a nice steak dinner with the money we won that day.
I don’t know what happened to those two guys. I lost track of them along the way somehow.
Have you ever run into someone with your exact same name? I have. Twice. Once was in Maine when I was a young woman. I did make contact with her through letters. The other one is living here in Georgia. I found out she has the same doctor that I do. I’ve asked that they ask her if we could meet, but nothing has come of it so far. I always have to make sure I give this particular doctor’s receptionist my birth date, so she’ll pull out the correct chart.
The places I lived; went to school; worked; all had some impact on my future life. I sometimes ask myself what would have happened if I had never met this person or gone to school at a particular time in a particular place.
I ask myself what would have happened if I’d gone to art school instead of Teacher’s College like everyone else wanted me to do. It was all linked to what I would be able to do with the degree I would receive. Art was iffy, Teacher’s College was a guaranteed future job, at least in the 60s. My fate and my life, I believe, was influenced by the practical sense of my Yankee upbringing.
Yet, I didn’t teach that long when all was said and done; only two years. I had another whole career in the printing and publishing business after that. And I did become an artist of a sort, by studying the art of writing along the way and actually becoming a writer in the end.
As I aged, I made my own decisions about how I wanted to live my life. I don’t think I made too many bad decisions except that I wish I had directed my path more towards where I ended up at an earlier age.
I have no regrets though. Otherwise, how would I have met all the wonderful people I came across in my early college education?
If I’m ever asked my philosophy of life I always answer like this: Life is like a supermarket. You have to stand back sometimes to find out what you’re looking for on that shelf in front of you.
Down through the ages, famous scholars and writers and well-known celebrities have given forth with their own philosophy of life. Some tend towards the dark end of things, others are rosier. It comes down to the old adage of “do see your glass half full or half empty?”
Which of these quotes do you generally follow or agree or disagree with?
Life is like walking through Paradise with peas in your shoes.
CHARLES EDWARD JERNINGHAM, The Maxims of Marmaduke
EUGENE O'NEILL, Lazarus Laughed
SALMAN RUSHDIE, The Ground Beneath Her Feet
Brief and powerless is man's life; on him and all his race the slow, sure doom falls pitiless and dark. BERTRAND RUSSELL, Philosophical Essays
Life is a game. Money is how we keep score. TED TURNER
Life is all memory except for the one present moment that goes by so quick you can hardly catch it going. TENNESSEE WILLIAMS, The Milk Train Doesn't Stop Here Anymore
Time
Like a petal in the wind
Flows softly by
As old lives are taken
New ones begin
A continual chain
Which lasts throughout eternity
Every life but a minute in time
But each of equal importance CINDY CHENEY, "Time"
J.M. BARRIE, The Little Minister
ROBERT FROST, as quoted in William Nichols' A New Treasury of Words to Live By
KATHARINE HEPBURN, Susan Crimp's Katharine Hepburn Once Said...
Thanks for listening.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Losing Friends
It is with a sad and heavy heart that I must report the passing of my dear friend, Hedi Bak, who I wrote about in this month's blog. I learned of her death recently when I spoke to the folks up at Gallery 4463 up in Acworth, Georgia. They had displayed her work and I found her on the internet through this art gallery.
Hedi died of a massive heart attack in 2010, so I was two years too late in locating her again. As far as I knew she was still in Africa with her second husband, Charles Counts. Counts died in Africa after a short illness at which time Hedi returned to this area.
I have lost a few friends over the years, who died too soon from devastating illnesses. Hedi did lead a full life as I believe she was in her 80s at the time of her death. I wish we could have had her a while longer, however. I believe that she and her first husband, Bronislaw, were able to accomplish a great deal in their adoptive country as naturalized citizens of the United States.
I hope that the story I posted on Hedi will bring some comfort to her sons. She was a dear friend for the brief time that I was privileged to know her.
We sometimes meet some remarkable people as we pass through this life. Hedi Bak was certainly one of them. We are fortunate that her art lives on. I only hope that she was able to write her memoirs, which she had hoped to do. If so, I will be anxious to read her words. So long, my dear friend.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Music Program for Kids at Thomaston Library
The following was submitted by Brian Sylvester, Head Librarian at Thomaston Public Library.
Margot Stiassni will be presenting a Tropical Make and Shake Music program at the Thomaston Public Library on Friday, January 27th from 4 to 6 PM. Children will be taught to make musical instruments from recycled materials while listening to and singing Caribbean songs and chants. The program is free to the public and will take place in the Children's Room.
"Thinking ecologically, we'll mostly use materials you can find around the house, reusable and recyclable items," Stiassni said. Children will make bongos, rainsticks, maracas and other instruments from anything and everything, including coffee cans, plastic bottles, paper towel rolls, wax paper and rubber bands. The workshop will end with an improvised concert using the new musical instruments.
The workshop is suited for children aged 3-12 but will be suitable for kids and adults of all ages. Children under 6 should be accompanied by an adult. Margot Stiassni is a teacher of music and language at the Penobscot School in Rockland and the Mid Coast Christian Academy. For more information about this program, contact the library at 354-2453.
The workshop is suited for children aged 3-12 but will be suitable for kids and adults of all ages. Children under 6 should be accompanied by an adult. Margot Stiassni is a teacher of music and language at the Penobscot School in Rockland and the Mid Coast Christian Academy. For more information about this program, contact the library at 354-2453.
A Walk Along Main Street--A Review
My friend, Ann Morris, of the Rockland Historical Society did a terrific job of giving us a book to carry on a walking tour of Rockland, Maine’s Historic Main Street. It’s just the right size to carry with you, including a map starting at 300 Main Street with the Spear Block, and ending at Schofield White Park where the Ferry Terminal is today.
I must admit that when I was growing up and made many trips up and down that very Main Street, I never thought of the history of the place; of the fact that many of the buildings would someday be listed on the National Registry of Historic Places. As a kid I couldn’t remember what the different blocks were called. I didn’t know the Berry Block from the Bird Block. Come to find out there is more than one Berry Block. No wonder I was confused.
I also enjoyed the historical synopsis of Rockland and the surrounding area which appears in the front of the book. I have read many such histories and I always learn something new when I read them. This time I learned how one of my favorite places, The Courier Gazette building came to be and how the Courier got its name when the two existing papers Rockland Courier and Rockland Gazette merged in 1882 to form The Courier Gazette.
(Another such merger took place in modern times when the Camden Herald and The Courier Gazette became The Herald Gazette when both publications were taken over by the Village Soup organization. That name didn’t stick, however, for over 100 years like The Courier Gazette did. I see that the paper is now called The Village Soup Gazette. Somehow that name just doesn’t fit the area and its traditions. Just saying.)
I wish the pictures in A Walk Along Main Street were bigger, but I can understand why they aren’t. I know it’s very expensive to produce a book with pictures in it these days. Besides, they fit the format of a walking tour and make for easier reference. It is better that the accompanying type was able to be more comprehensive with the smaller pictures.
I did see a few format problems in the book and one sentence construction problem, but they didn’t detract from the overall content of the book, especially the capsules of each entry listing what each block or building started out as; who occupied them; and what they are today.
Many of the buildings and blocks listed in the book are either on the National Registry of Historic Places or are waiting to be included. It’s amazing how many of them there are. I commend the Rockland Historical Society and the other sponsors of this great little book: Rockland Main Street, Inc.; Knight Marine; The Reading Corner; Planet Toys; Pen Bay Regional Chamber of Commerce; George Holmes Jeweler, LLS; John and Mary Alice Bird; Maine Boats Homes & Harbors; Pinnacle Creative; E.C. Moran Insurance; Gerald Weinand, Architects; The Free Press; Johathan Frost Gallery; Puffin’s Nest.
You did a great job, Anne. Congratulations on a job well done, everyone. Thank you.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day in Georgia
January 16, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, is observed in Atlanta like it is not observed anywhere else in America. Atlanta, after all, is the birthplace of the great man who was the leader of the civil rights movement.
As I write this, I have Ebenezer Baptist Church live on our local TV station. The holiday always starts in his church, where he was pastor during those tumultuous years.This year there is a new memorial statue of King in D.C. I would like to see someday.
I have visited the Martin Luther King, Jr. Center in downtown Atlanta as well as the church and his boyhood home on Auburn Avenue in downtown Atlanta. The home is watched over faithfully by the national Forest Ranger service.
I didn't have any contact with an African American until I was 16 years old and in Washington. D.C. with the drum corps for the second inauguration of Eisenhower. As I went out the door of one place we were in, a restaurant I think, I met up with a few black folks who were hanging out on the back stairwell. It occurred to me later that they probably were not allowed to use the front steps, but were forced to come into the building by the back door.
I didn't see any fountains or bathrooms labeled "White" or "Colored" while I was there. You had to go further south to see such signs.
I remember that during the height of the civil rights movement that Dr. King was pictured as an agitator on network news shows. J. Edgar Hoover is said to have had a "file" on him. I must admit, that at that time, I didn't understand the enormity of what African Americans had to go through in their daily lives. Had we as white people, had to go through life in that manner, I don't think we would have been as patient as they were until Martin Luther King, Jr. came along. It was not easy for them, and took an enormous amount of bravery, to give up the images of their past like the Klu Klux Klan and the lynchings that went on soon after the Civil War.
Think about it. Could you have lived with the "White Only" signs? Could you live with the realization that you couldn't eat in certain restaurants; stay at certain hotels; even use restrooms in certain areas? I learned that some of our black singers were not allowed to stay at the very hotels and other venues where they performed.
African Americans were not allowed to even dream that they could become doctors, nurses, professors, or other professionals. Their jobs were in the kitchen; as maids; as janitors. That was the best many of them could hope for. If you get the chance to see the movie currently up for many awards, "The Help," please go see it. It is based on the sad true story of how black people were treated in the South.
Ebenezer Baptist Church is still on the T.V. Rabbi Shalom Lewis just spoke briefly after singing a Jewish blessing, cantor style. He quoted from the book of Michah. Jewish people, as I've said before, understand fully the struggle black Americans have endured because they were also discriminated against in the worst way. They will always support the struggles of Black Americans and anyone who seeks the civil rights they deserve.
I hope you will stop today for just a minute to bow your head for the man we honor today, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
Hedi Bak--A Friend in Time
As I’ve mentioned before, as much as I love Maine and as much as I hope to return to my native soil to live someday, I will never regret the years spent away from Maine because of all the different people I’ve been able to meet along the way. One such person is a woman I was asked to write a story about, Hedi Bak.
I was working at the Atlanta Jewish Community Center at the time when I was approached to meet and interview Hedi for a story in a publication called IDENTITY, from the Jewish Community Center of Greater Minneapolis. It was to be a story about her as the artist and the person behind the art she called Song of Songs, a suite of 30 wood block lithographs illustrating the most famous “love poem” of all time. This big body of work was purchased by Hedi’s friend, Dr. Gisela Konopka, and then donated to the JCC in Minneapolis.
I met with Hedi one afternoon at the center and sat down to hear her story; and what a story it was. She was a German youth living in Germany during WWII. I was anxious to hear her side of the story, so to speak. After all, my own mother was of German Dutch descent, and here we were talking about that terrible war; that horrible era of Nazism, here in the Atlanta Jewish Community Center, surrounded by people of the Jewish faith. I became good friends with Hedi after that interview and we spent many hours talking about the past and about her hopes for the future.
This is the resulting story which I give you in excerpt form. It was written in 1986. She was in her 60s at that time, therefore she would be in her 80s now if she is still living. I lost track of her when she found a new love and moved to Africa with him.
The Woman Behind the Art:
Hedi Bak’s “Song of Songs” By Sandra Sylvester
In the 1960s the flower children were rebelling against the Vietnam War. Flower children shouted, “Make love, not war!” Hedi Bak, remembering her youth during another war in another time, felt she had to respond to these children of the “love generation” in the only way she could. She decided to create the Song of Songs, a suite of wood block lithographs illustrating the most famous “love poem” of all time.
Unlike the Vietnam protestors, including her own son, Bak felt her youth was stolen from her. In the period when young people traditionally “discover love,” she was living through WWII as a German youth in Germany.
Bak’s family were demonstrators of a sort also. At that time she lived with her father’s family, the Mullers, in the French border town of Pirmasens. Her father was a member of the opposition party, the Social Democrats. The family, therefore, endured many hardships and discriminatory actions. Mr. Muller was arrested in 1933 when Hedi was only eight. He was later sent to Dachau, but was released because of his heroism in rescuing a woman from the rubble of an Allied air raid.
Enduring broken glass and red paint, or blood, splattered on their house by their neighbors, the family became a “safe house” or you might say, a part of an underground railroad, for those fleeing the Nazis. Jews, political opponents and other “enemies of the Third Reich” passed through the house in the middle of the night.
One night they were raided by the SS, who found nothing, because Hedi’s aunt locked herself in a third floor bedroom and hid incriminating papers in the shingles of the house by reaching through a dormer window. Hedi has bitter memories though of how those refugees were forced to hide from the French on the French side of the border, in fear of being turned back by them.
Hedi witnessed many atrocities against the Jews, most notably Kristallnacht—the Night of Broken Glass—in November of 1938, as she ran up and down outdoor stairs and hid behind barrels not believing what she was seeing. The mob burned books, broke the windows of Jewish shops. Amid it all was the further misbelief as she saw her own second cousin leading a Hitler Youth Group band as they marched through the glass. Her family did not talk about that incident for years afterwards.
The Muller family was in temporary exile in the backwoods of the Main River, returning after the fall of France in 1941 to face a belligerent German population. Her grandfather died during this time and Hedi and her grandmother moved to Kaiserslautern to live with a cousin. Hedi was able to enroll as a pre-architectural student at the Meisterschule fur Kunsthandwerk.
This lull was short-lived, however, as she was drafted into the P.A.D. (work camp) in 1942. She endured hard work in the fields while having to deal with less than friendly farm families. Food was scarce and workers had to depend on roots and berries very often.
One day in the camp, when she was in charge of a group of small children, the Allied bombers came and she had to hurry to get them safely hidden under bushes. She was released from the camp after six months because of ill health and returned home where she was reassigned to a factory. Her background helped her get a job in the drafting department.
As the war was ending the factory was ordered to move deeper into Germany because of increased Allied bombing. Hedi refused to go and was therefore ordered to report to the FLAK commander in Fuerth for military training. She was escorted to the train by armed militia along with some other women. She soon deserted, however, as the war drew to a close.
Life soon became a search for family members, friends and food. Hedi wandered over much of Germany during this time. Most of her family survived. Ninety per cent of Pirmasens was destroyed.
Hedi returned to school after the war where she met her future husband, Bronislaw Bak. Bak was a Polish soldier at age 17. As Poles were hated in Germany, along with most other foreigners, and Hedi had lost faith in her own country’s political future, the couple decided to come to America under the displaced persons program.
They settled in Chicago, opened their own printmakers’ workshop and raised three sons. They moved to Minnesota in 1961, where they became naturalized American citizens. Bronislaw became an internationally known designer/artist and a college professor. Hedi has published a book about the Song of Songs and completed a book on the prayer of St. Francis. Her work has been exhibited in Germany, Argentina and the United States.
The Baks moved to Georgia in the 70s where Bronislaw became a professor at Georgia Southern University in Statesboro. He died in 1981. Hedi lives in Atlanta (until she moved to Africa). Sadly she lost one son in an accident and an operation left her partially paralyzed and unable to practice her printmaking art. She does however, continue with her drawings and teaches workshops. She has begun to write her memoirs of her childhood in Germany. She was presented at the Goethe Institute in Atlanta with her exhibit, “Faces and Places.”
Hedi endured a lot in her childhood and young adulthood. As she says, “You are stronger for what you must endure in life.” Her work, Song of Songs is on permanent display in the JCC Auditorium in Minneapolis.
Thanks for listening.
A note: If I have readers in Africa, and you by chance have known Hedi Bak at some time, please tell me. I’ve always wondered how my friend, Hedi Bak, is doing.
GUESS WHAT?
GUESS WHAT?
I just did a Google search and found Hedi through her art. She is actually now living in the U.S. either in Oak Ridge, TN or Woodstock, GA., which is not that far from me. I'll report more when I actually talk to her. I just love making contact with old friends. Stay tuned.
Another work from the same volume of IDENTITY:
The Survivors
Dedicated to my Grandparents
By Jacob Fine
The Holocaust destroyed the Jewish People
Like a fire can destroy a forest.
Some animals get hurt by the fire
Like Jews sent to gas chambers.
But Some Survive!
Like birds with strong wings
Who make it past the smoke
Like deer with swift and sturdy legs
Who run to save their lives
Like bears who climb the highest trees
To escape the burning fire.
Now it’s over, no more fire
The people left are called Survivors
With children of their own, they start new lives
Like forests that begin to grow again.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Relay for Life with Sean Meehan, 2012
Last year I reported on my friend up in Pennsylvania, Nanci’s nephew, Sean Meehan, who was going through serious chemo therapy for his rare form of cancer. We are all happy he is still with us as he celebrated his one year of survival in October of last year.
Sean still has an inoperable tumor, but he is checked often as to its status. He goes on with his life with great hope for his future.
Sean, with his mother Lisa, at last year's Relay for Life.
Sean with some members of the Twin Valley Raiders girls’ basketball team promoting the upcoming Relay for Life Survivors Night, “Shoot For a Cure” on January 27. If you live up that way please put this date on your calendar and participate in this worthy cause.
To find a Relay for Life Event in your own area please go to www.relayforlife.org. Organize your own Relay Event. Thanks for your support.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Student Sailor Scholarship Fund Update, January 21
This is the latest scholarship thermometer for student sailor, Elizabeth Sherfey as submitted by her grandmother, my friend, Jean Monroe.
Thank you so much for all the support! Received my first official sponsorship from an organization-special thanks to Rockland Kiwanis!
(message received via Facebook, January 20)
Jean Rowling Monroe (via Facebook, Jan. 20) Great to see that "support thermometer" rising! Elizabeth leaves in less than a week - and we will continue fund-raising - plans for some suppers coming up.
Let's keep it coming folks and good luck to you, Elizabeth!
Life Among the Jews
As promised, I present my paper on the Jewish people I have met in my life. I was asked to read it at a meeting associated with one of the Jewish holidays at the Atlanta Jewish Community Center. I worked there when I wrote this piece, circa 1990s.
Life Among the Jews
(A stranger in a strange land)
By Sandra Sylvester
You shall treat the stranger as one born among you.
You shall love the stranger as yourself,
For you were strangers in the land of Egypt.
(adapted from the Ten Commandments—Deuteronomy 5:14)
(This story is a Christian answer to the anti-Semitics of the world. I wish they could have walked in my shoes.)
My mother wrote me a letter and asked, “How’s your new life among your Jewish friends?” I wrote back and used words like stimulating, educational, and hectic. As a non-Jew suddenly thrust into a working world of all Jewish people, these words summed up my first impression of a totally Jewish environment (at the Atlanta Jewish Community Center, where I worked in the Publications Dept.)
The people I met were always striving to improve that environment, setting higher and higher goals for themselves. I found high levels of dedication, education, and stimulation among my fellow workers. The hectic atmosphere I soon found out was the result of a constant flow of new ideas and the almost frenetic desire to carry them out as soon as possible. I myself was soon caught up in their world, making their goals my goals, their dedication mine.
As I look back in reflection, I can see the above qualities in all the Jewish people I have met in my life.
In my small New England town there were many active Jewish people. They owned many businesses along Main Street: the Segals, the Savitts, the Goldsteins, the Smalls, the Gordons, the Dondis’, the Marcuses, the Rubensteins. Nate Berliawsky owned a hotel on Main Street (the brother of the famous sculptor, Louise Nevelson). The Jewish people in town were involved in countless community causes and sat on many charitable boards and committees. They were active in politics and in the school system.
My first involvement with Jewish people was with the Segal family. They owned the State News Company, a small news, magazine, paperback book and stationery store. The store also served as the Greyhound bus station. I took that bus to Boston and points beyond many times. My sister-in-law, Nat, worked for Mr. Segal, or Sid as we called him, for many years. Sid always had a smile for visitors to his store. He’d always ask me how the folks were (in a small town everyone knows everyone else) and how I was doing in school.
Later on, I babysat for his two girls. I also remember when he moved his store across the street. I worked part-time for the local newspaper, The Courier Gazette, which was nearby; and we used some space in his old store to collate books, etc. He had left behind some shelves full of old paperback books with the covers torn off. He let us take what we wanted and to me, a bookworm, those old shelves were like walking through a special kind of heaven. I’m afraid I sometimes spent more time picking out books than I did collating.
The Jewish people in my hometown were in a minority, which isn’t unusual; but it was different in the respect that the majority of the population was Christian and Protestant, some with family histories going back to the beginning of Colonial history, including mine. Traditions ran deep and were many times unbending.
Few non-Jews in town understood what being a Jew really was; what they stood for; what their traditions were; what or who they worshipped; what holidays they celebrated and why. Through my school years, the Lord’s Prayer was said every morning and only Christian holidays were celebrated within the school system. Those of the Jewish faith didn’t even have a synagogue, temple or shul to call their own, but rather rented a Protestant church for their services.
I grew up as ignorant as the rest of the majority of that small town. When I first entered the Segal home to babysit, I thought the Mezuzzah on the door was to keep away evil spirits. When I saw their dishes separated, some wrapped in plastic, I thought Mrs. Segal was just an eccentric housewife who was afraid of germs. It was all the more difficult for me to understand such cleanliness as I had a mother who was herself known as an immaculate housekeeper. As I think back, I realize that Mrs. Segal’s dishes probably became tref (non-Kosher) through my misuse of them.
True, there were the Christian Sunday School stories of the persecutions of the Jews, the stories of Rachael and Ruth, of Moses, of David, and of Abraham and Isaac. But they were only stories to me then. Their persecution was my own, as a Christian, as we see Jesus as a Jew and a Christian alike.
It was only later when I got out into the larger world and met more Jewish people; asked questions; and read and studied of their more recent history; that I began to understand what a Jewish person really is.
As a young person in Connecticut, I rented a house with some other friends from a woman who was a survivor of the Holocaust. She left some books in the house describing that horrible era in detail, with equally horrifying pictures to illustrate it. Never had I seen such books. As I read them I began to understand the reason for the Jewish zest for life—why they really believe in L’Chaim (to life). Those books left an impression on me that influenced all my future relationships with Jewish people.
I met a Jewish teacher at that time who was a World War II widow. Mrs. Sadie Sachs never had children and dedicated her life to teaching other people’s children. She loved those children as her own and always referred to them as “my kids.” She treated us like her children also, always ready to listen to our troubles as young teachers and as young people just starting out in the world. Many times we met at her house to talk; to have ice cream and cookies; to laugh. It was from her I finally learned what the words kosher and Mezzuzah mean.
(As I reread this story, I realized that I also knew a Sadie Sachs at the Atlanta Jewish Community Center. She was the one who brought me a poinsettia one Christmas. I mentioned her in my December blog, “Christmas among the Jews.)
There was also a time in my life in Connecticut when I felt a need to meet new people in a stimulating atmosphere. I found such a group in an amateur theatre group. The Mark Twain Masquers was located in a mostly Jewish community near where I lived. I didn’t know that the group was made up mostly of Jewish people until I joined them; but it made no difference. I was treated as one of their own from the very beginning. That group was my first exposure to a dedicated, stimulating Jewish environment, similar to the one I am now a part of.
The president of the group at that time was Mrs. Eleanor Feinstein, a beautiful, lithe, dynamic woman. She had acted professionally and belonged to a family of artists. Our monthly meetings were like none I ever attended before or since. Everyone looked forward to them. She would set the scene as if the meeting were a play itself. It was her sense of humor that struck me most, another attribute I have often found in Jewish people. Her camaraderie with us was even reflected in the secretary’s report, which was always a well-scripted bit of humor in itself. When it came time to form committees for the newest production, the atmosphere Eleanor had set resulted in hands eagerly raised to volunteer.
The Jewish people I met in the Mark Twain Masquers were my friends as well (including Eleanor, who knew everybody she ever met by name). They inspired me; stimulated me; were concerned about my private struggles. They boosted my sense of self-confidence and helped me develop my own personal goals. They entrusted me, at one point, with a demanding role as head of set dressing for an involved musical production of “A Most Happy Fellow”. Up until that point, I didn’t even know what a set dresser was. The successful accomplishment of that task led to a new motivation to pursue my own creative endeavors as a writer.
Jews and non-Jews alike have been inspired to follow up on their own private goals and dreams as a result of membership in the Mark Twain Masquers. One member made local T.V. commercials. Another member, Dayson DeCourcey, has been the M.C. for an annual festival in my hometown for years. Peter Falk came out of that group. I came away with a very positive image of myself and of Jewish people.
As to my writing endeavors, another Jewish friend must be mentioned, Mrs. Ruby Zagoren Silverstein. A children’s author and a writer of Jewish histories, I belonged to her creative writing group. Again I found in her, a Jew, a person who cares about other people. She inspired all those around her, including her own son, a professional artist and poet, whose art work adorned the walls of her home. Ruby not only loved people, she was a bird watcher and lover of nature. I not only learned how to write professionally from her; I also learned to love birds and to take notice of the environmental factors that were destroying the life around us. To her L’Chaim meant all the creatures of this earth.
Her home in the country was a natural preserve. Wild ducks strode across her lawn to the stream behind the house. Every window in her house was made to push out so she could fill the bird feeders attached to the house outside. As a guest in her home, she would identify the birds that came to feed and would talk enthusiastically about the bird-watching expedition she had just returned from.
Ruby taught me most of all to reach beyond myself. Because of her, I eventually went back to school and received an advanced degree.
Obviously, those people who were the greatest inspiration in my life were many times Jewish people. There’s not a doubt in my mind that there will be many more inspirational, motivational, stimulating Jewish people in my life. I have already met at least a dozen in my new life “among the Jews” at the Atlanta Jewish Community Center in Atlanta, Georgia.
It saddened me deeply when I learned of the deaths of Ruby Zagoren, Eleanor Feinstein, and Mrs. Sachs of Connecticut. I received another letter from my mother recently in which she told me that the Segals had been killed in an airplane crash in Dallas, Texas. They had retired to Florida years ago; but they had been well known in my hometown. Everyone was shocked to hear of the tragedy. I dedicate these words to them, especially, and also to Mrs. Sachs, Eleanor Feinstein, and to dear Ruby. L’Chaim
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Port 'o Rockland Drum and Bugle Corps in 1959
The Rockland, Maine History web site, sponsored by Tim Sullivan, posted this picture of the Drum Corp this am. I thought I'd share it with all my fellow Drum Corps pals. I was a senior in 1959 and was not a member of the corps at this time I don't believe. I had joined the color guard squad and marched in Washington, DC as a sword carrier in 1958 for Eisenhower's second Inaguration parade. So I may have spent at least part of 1959 with the corps. This picture was taken on the steps of St. Bernard's Church on Park Street. Does anyone know who the little guy is in front? It could be Ralph Clark, our director's son. Thanks for the picture, Tim.
The Port o' Rockland Junior Drum and Bugle Corps received the state VFW championship trophy Saturday. Presenting the cup to Roland Ames, drillmaster, is Robert Stenger, commander of Stone-Scott-Watson post, VFW, of Friendship. The Friendship post sponsored the Rockland group at the State VFW convention in Bangor. They will also sponsor the corps at the VFW national convention in Los Angeles, Calif., later this month. BANGOR DAILY NEWS PHOTO BY STRICKLAND
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Leaving Maine...Leaving Home
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| The Fulton Street house. |
Things change slowly in Maine. If you live there you may see the changes as they come; but if you are a Maineiac who returns home after a long time, everything looks the same to you. Of course Main Street in Rockland has changed a lot. Anyone can see that. The buildings are all the same (except for that new building on the corner of Pleasant and Main). However, none of the old businesses we remember remain.
Something that doesn’t change is the fact that many young Maine people leave Maine for more and better opportunities. I was one of those young people. I did stay one year after college to teach in Kittery, after that I was off to Connecticut and then Georgia.
Another thing that doesn’t change is the fact that those same young people, when they reach retirement age, return to Maine to live. I’ve noticed references to these “return to our roots” phenomena recently.
For instance, there was an article by John Christie in the Village Soup of late. Christie is a Camden native, outdoor columnist and a member of the Maine Ski Hall of Fame. He was gone for 55 years before he returned to live in Maine. He talks about his feelings and why he left Maine in the first place. He sums up his analysis by quoting a Maine poet, Wilbur Snow, who was born on Whitehead Island:
“The sea is forever quiv’ring,
And the shore is forever still
And the boy who is born in a
Seacoast town is born with a dual will
The sunburned rocks and beaches
Inveigle him to stay
While every wave that breaches is
A nudge to be up and away”
Now you may ask me, “Why don’t you come back to Maine?”
I have to admit that lately my thoughts have drifted North to Maine and the rockbound coast I love so much. Things being as they are economically and otherwise prevent my moving at this time. I do, however, dream of the time when I can make it a reality.
I’ve had many adventures in my life since leaving Maine in the 60s. I’ve had the opportunity to travel; to meet many different kinds of people; to further my education; to even publish a book. Imagine that! I’m not done yet as far as adventure goes. I may be retired but I’m not “retiring.”
I will miss the friends I’ve made here in Georgia. Of course they will always be welcome wherever I land in Maine in the future.
I believe as Christie does though when he says: “I no longer feel guilty about bursting out of Camden’s protective cocoon because, as Snow said, I was influenced by forces far greater than myself, and beyond my control.”
He says not much has changed in Camden since he left so long ago. “The mountains will always meet the sea. The tides will always rise and ebb. And our youth will continue to be torn between staying and leaving. As they should.”
See you all this summer. Thanks for listening.
Fish and Chips--Guest Blog, Ted Sylvester
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| By Ted Sylvester This column appeared in 1987. When the do-it-yourselfer outdoes himself Would you believe that a simple task of planting a little shrubbery around the house and removing sod around the lilac bushes could result in repeated trips to the doctor, X-rays, and $24-a-bottle medication? The Friendly Do-It-Yourselfer really outdid himself this time. Usually the task at hand for DIY results in frustration, deflated ego and embarrassment. Once it even meant some medical attention when he cut open his hand with a saw. For a DIY, this was understandable. But injuring one’s foot to the extent that he was out of work for a week and had to curb all activities…now that’s ridiculous. Expensive also. Having a week off in May is the best time of the year to get the yard cleaned and outside spring cleaning accomplished. So it was with the DIY. The job list was ambitious: Clean the garage, take down the gutters and paint the trim, and schedule a lawn (junk) sale to make room for accumulating another 15 years’ worth of artifacts (junk). But first things first. Wifemate had been harping about that empty spot in the front yard that needed a tree or shrub. This was after the planting of two spruce trees and a forsythia bush had failed. One would think that if DIY could plant some lilac bushes a few years back, when he used cement for fertilizer, with success, that a simple planting of a bush would be a piece of cake. He should have seen the omen. One of the lilac bushes had failed to bloom for the second consecutive year. Maybe the cement has finally hardened. Wifemate suggested that if the sod were dug out from around the bush, it might have a better chance of survival. DIY could plant another bush in the front yard at the same time. A trip to the friendly neighborhood plant store found all the necessary ingredients for a professional job. A flowering crab was selected for the planting, cow manure for fertilizer (can’t mistake cement for that), and several bags of wood chips for decoration and to keep the grass away. About $75 did the trick. When digging started, DIY discovered that grass growing against the garage was threatening to rot the sills. This also had to be removed. At the end of the spading, DIY’s foot was sore. The next day, he could hardly step on it. The next day, it was a visit to Pen Bay’s emergency ward. The medical personnel were very nice. The doctor said there was some inflammation around the toe joint but nothing broken. Take some pills to deflate the inflammation and the foot should be better in a couple of days. Somehow DIY was dubious. After all, the doctor was wearing his hospital shirt wrong side out. It had to be an omen. Over the weekend, the foot swelled, and swelled. The pain increased. Monday meant a call to a specialist. Diagnosis. Gout. Webster says that gout is “a disease resulting from a disturbance of uric acid metabolism, characterized by an excess of uric acid in the blood and deposits of uric acid salts in various tissues, especially in the joints of the feet and hands. It causes swelling and severe pain, notable in the big toe.” That exactly was what the doctor said. Gout also can be brought on by eating food that is too rich, like lobster. That’s a real laugh when lobster is $3-something a pound. In this case, in his interminable fashion, DIY had disturbed his uric acid metabolism with an ordinary spade. Doctor’s advice: Stay home, remain quiet, keep the foot elevated, and take these $24-a-bottle pills. It worked. In just three days, DIY could get his shoes on. The pain had subsided. The bills are not all in yet, but an estimation of $200 won’t be far off. DIY now is wondering how to answer the questions on the insurance forms. Suppose the insurance people will accept the fact that patient’s uric acid metabolism was disturbed by a spade? Also, is this reported as an accident? It was no accident that DIY intended to use the spade to dig out the sod. But he surely had no intention of disturbing his acid metabolism. On top of all this, the garage is still dirty and crammed with artifacts (junk), and the trim on the house still is not painted. The next chapter in the life of DIY should be a dilly. Ted Sylvester is [was] chief of the Midcoast Bureau. Bangor Daily News |
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