Eddy Retirement Living

FALL 2011
History beneath our feet:
The Revolutionary War (page 4)
Inside
Turning points.................... 2-3
History beneath our feet..... 4-5
Photo: Jacquie Tinke
Eddy Retirement
Living
Call us at 1-877-748-3339 for
information on any of our communities.
Slang...................................... 6
Finding your balance.............. 7
Flavors 450............................. 8
Turning points: Eddy residents share
private stories of personal triumph
Ten percent of life is what happens ...
90 percent is how you respond to it.
Give or take a percentage point, virtually all our Eddy residents would agree
with that great aphorism. They’ve
proven it to be true through fateful
turning points in their own lives. In
this issue of Eddy Retirement Living,
we share three more inspiring stories
of challenge and response, quiet heroism and age-defying achievements.
“Looking back, I wonder how I did
it,” says one resident.
We’ll tell you.
“I was on a crusade ...”
Life-altering events come in all shapes,
sizes ... and disguises.
Orel Friedman’s moment arrived
with frightening abruptness, roughly
30 years ago. He was driving with
his wife and two friends to a dinner party when suddenly his vision
went double: “The car in front of me
looked like two cars – one on top of
the other,” he says.
After a visit to his ophthalmologist
and two university consultants, the
word came that it was not transitory
and most likely would get worse.
Eventually, new glasses containing
prisms would give Orel “useful”
vision, but he was not able to continue his practice.
Within a month, “I was out of medical practice forever.”
“It was the low point of my life,” says
Orel, now a resident of The Glen at
Hiland Meadows. “I was only 66.
I wasn’t prepared for ‘retirement.’”
Now “disabled” with time on his
hands, and by nature disinclined
toward idle hours of self-pity, Orel
began visiting local libraries. He read
about every book on retirement and
gerontology he could find. This was
1980 when retirement and aging
were not the hot topics they are now.
By closing one eye, Orel could selfcorrect his vision – temporarily. He
said nothing at dinner, but worried.
“I asked my wife Blossom to drive
home. That night I told her.”
For anyone, this would be a terrifying incident. But for Orel, there was
another dimension. He was one of
the area’s most respected ear, nose
and throat specialists, with a busy
surgical practice. When his doublevision returned the next day, “I immediately canceled all my surgeries ...
and referred my patients who needed
urgent care.”
2
Orel Friedman
“I became interested in the problems
of aging – not the medical side, but
the economic, psychological and
social aspects,” Orel says. “Back then,
very few people were talking about
these subjects ... and nobody at all
in this area. There were so many
myths and stereotypes out there. No
one was really advocating for seniors.
I thought, ‘as a physician, I’d done
a lot of counseling. This is an area
where I can help people.’”
In these innermost thoughts, Orel’s
“new beginning” took shape.
Like any good physician, Orel educated himself. He took classes at the
University at Albany (SUNY), spoke
with medical colleagues he knew, traveled the country attending gerontology seminars, even served an internship with a gerontology center in
Florida. Within a few years, Orel had
transformed his forced retirement into
a second, pioneering career as counselor, writer, speaker and consultant
to geriatric care providers.
His crusading interest in end-of-life
care and patient rights, “which were
handled abysmally at that time,” was
at least a decade ahead of national
trends. He also advocated for financial planning, open communication
with family members, dozens of other
ways to “live the long good life.” For
uncounted local seniors, Orel made
an immeasurable difference.
Today at 97, he’s still “an inspiration
to me, to all of us,” says Barbara
LeBouf, our Executive Director at
The Glen. “None of us knows what
we’ll be given. You meet certain
people in life.”
Orel says simply, “I made lemonade
out of a lemon.”
Margaret and Ossy ...
turning life into art
In the 1950s a popular television program, “Ozzie and Harriet,” depicted
idyllic post-war American family life.
It was the first “reality TV” show, and
equally as unreal as today’s versions.
The true story of Ossy and Margaret
is far more complex, and uplifting.
Ossy and Margaret
Walker
The Walkers were a successful young
“General Electric family.” Osborne
was a bright “handsome engineer”
who specialized in high-power transmitters, Margaret an attractive former
GE secretary who “always knew some
day I would paint” but for now was
busy raising three children.
“We thought it was just a ‘bug.’”
The next morning when he tried to
get out of bed, his legs buckled. A
physician was called. Then an ambulance summoned. It was polio. For
the next “nightmare week, I woke up
every morning not knowing if Ossy
had survived the night,” says Margaret, now a resident of Hawthorne
Ridge. “I vividly remember one dawn,
feeling so alone, hearing someone on
the street outside ... whistling a melancholy tune.”
Ossy never walked again.
But together, he and
Margaret traveled a road
surpassing all expectations.
You might say they turned
their 66 years of marriage
into art.
By the time a miraculous
polio vaccine was introduced only a
few years later, Ossy was adapting to
– indeed, prevailing over – life in a
wheelchair. Through agonizing therapy, known then as “reconstruction,” he
willed the physical strength to return
to GE where eventually he worked on
the NASA program. He designed new
handicap-accessible ramps and virtually
invented hand-controls for the family
car ... and never complained.
At long last, on her 60th birthday,
Margaret took her first professional art
lesson. “I was so excited, I got a speeding ticket on the way there,” she says.
One of the many miniatures and
frames Ossy and Margaret have created.
One summer day in 1949, “Ossy
wasn’t feeling well,” Margaret recalls.
Though her instruction (in acrylics)
was basic, it turned out that Margaret’s talent was far from rudimentary.
Soon she was winning awards for her
work. And “much to my amazement,”
cash sales. One day a friend asked
Margaret to paint a postage-stamp-size
“miniature” for a doll house – and
the artist found her genre. Her work
caused a stir at a local Doll House and
Miniature show, which led to invitations to bigger shows ... and ultimately
800 sales at “adult collectible” shows
across the country.
Beside her in this grand new adventure, as she had always been for him,
was that still-handsome engineer.
Now retired from GE, for the next
15 years Ossy devoted himself to handling the business end of Margaret’s
art career and crafting unique frames
for her inimitable miniatures. “I think
some people bought my pictures just
for Ossy’s frames,” she laughs.
A few years ago, Margaret received
a distinction all artists hope for – her
own show, devoted exclusively to her
work in all sizes. Sadly, Ossy wasn’t
there to see it.
“But he left me a box full of frames
to be filled.”
From ocean depths
to the moon
“I’m no hero,” says Bill Everett of The
Glen at Hiland Meadows. “I was just
in the right place at the right time.”
But what a place and time! When
he joined the Navy at the end of
World War II as a “wild kid” of 17,
Bill could never have imagined that
someday he would help put a man
on the moon. What makes his story
so remarkable is not so much a turning point as the road not taken – the
academic road to a formal degree
that Bill never had time for. He was
always too busy doing.
Continued on page 7
3
History beneath our feet:
The Revolutionary War
There are no Revolutionary War
monuments at our Eddy communities.
No cannon or bronze statues grace
our landscaped lawns.
Yet the very earth upon which our
communities now stand – in Niskayuna, Troy, Queensbury, Slingerlands
and East Greenbush – once was the
“staging area” for a desperate, seemingly doomed battle. Today we use
the words “freedom” and “independence” to describe the Eddy lifestyle.
Back then, the prospects looked dim.
All over this region in the fall of 1777,
colonists (including ancestors of some
of our residents) braced for an approaching army of Redcoats. British
strategy was to march south from
Canada through the rugged Hudson
Valley, capture Albany and cut off
New England from other rebellious
colonies. As thousands of patriot militia arrived to make their stand, loyalist
Tories ran for their lives. Most fled
north ... toward the oncoming British.
It was a seismic moment whose implications can still be felt.
Just ask Allison Bennett of our Beverwyck community. Some years ago,
she and her husband William were on
Schuyler Mansion, Albany.
Photo: Matt H. Wade
4
a vacation
in Nova
Scotia. They
befriended a
Canadian man
and his daughter.
“Where are you from in America?”
the Bennetts were asked casually.
They answered, Albany.
“Albany! Our ancestors had to leave
Albany ... 250 years ago,” the daughter explained. “They were Tories.”
Philadelphia has Independence Hall
and Boston its Freedom Trail, but
here is where The Revolution turned –
a few miles from our current Eddy
communities, at battlefields near Saratoga. That victory over British forces
stunned even the colonists themselves.
It brought the French into the war as
allies and, most historians agree, recast
a hopeless stalemate into a struggle
whose outcome was inevitable.
“It’s incredible to really think about
what happened here,” says Allison,
who has written five books of local
history. Allison’s Dutch roots date
to the early 17th century and she is
a member of the Daughters of the
American Revolution. Probably
“four or five” of her ancestors took
part. “The Dutch were not
Tories,” she explains succinctly.
With all the amenities of our
everyday life, “it’s very hard
for people now to visualize the
difficulties and courage. These
were untrained men, farmers and
tradesmen, with no supplies and
no back-up, many of them walking hundreds of miles through
wilderness from Connecticut and
New Hampshire ... to fight the best
army in the world for beliefs we take
for granted,” says Allison. “Where we
live right now was the staging area for
the Continental Army at Saratoga.”
No one in 1777 seriously expected to
stop the British. It was assumed there
would be a bloody siege of Albany.
“All around this area, colonists were
building earthen fortifications and
breastworks,” Allison explains.
Evidence is still visible today.
“If you want a goose-bump moment, visit Peebles Island State Park
in Cohoes,” where the Mohawk and
Hudson Rivers meet. “You’ll see
earthwork mounds that were built
with their own hands ... where colonists expected to hold out.”
“If they mean to have a
war, let it begin here!”
Does history still matter?
It seems every generation asks that
question. And the answer can be
unsettling. In one recent survey, a
quarter of Americans couldn’t even
identify what country we fought for
independence. Some said Spain or
France.
But for Mary Cassidy of our Beechwood community, The Revolution is
not an abstract lesson in a classroom
– it’s family history. Mary is a direct
descendant of Henry Harrington,
whose four brothers were members of
Captain John Parker’s militia. Caleb,
the youngest brother, died at Lexington. In fact, 11 members of the Harrington family were part of Parker’s
130-man company.
How does it feel to have a genuine
“patriot” in your lineage? Surprisingly
natural, Mary says.
“I got used to it as a girl in high
school,” she says. “People in my family talked about it occasionally, but
never in a bragging way.” As with any
distant relative, “it wasn’t a subject
that came up very often.” Not until
the 1970s did Mary visit the Lexington battlefield and see that long list of
Harringtons on the monument there.
As every diligent school child knows,
Lexington is where it began. Parker,
Schuyler Mansion
Built in 1761 and now a stately
museum at 32 Catherine Street in
Albany, this is a must-see for anyone
interested in American history. It
was the home of Philip Schuyler, a
Major General in the Continental
Army and the first U. S. Senator
from New York. George Washington was a frequent visitor. Alexander
Hamilton married Schuyler’s daughter in this house. And after his surrender at Saratoga, British General
Burgoyne was a “guest” here.
A statue of Schuyler stands in front
of City Hall, and is often said to be a
brooding likeness. Schuyler was controversial. He planned the Saratoga
defense and should have won fame
who witnessed his
cousin bayoneted by
a British soldier, is reported to have said,
“if they mean to have
a war, let it begin here.”
Mary’s ancestor Henry
was 63-years-old at the
Saratoga Battlefield overlooking the Hudson River.
time, and a signer of
Photo: Jacquie Tinke
Massachusetts’ own
“declaration of independence.”
Henry had five sons, including Mary’s
ancestor Thomas. The brothers’ roles
are not known, but like most ablebodied male colonists (who weren’t
Tories), it’s certain they took up arms.
(Neutrality was not an option.) What
we do know about Thomas is that
aside from helping produce a nation ...
he helped give us Mary. And for that,
her many friends at Beechwood
are grateful.
as the commander there, but he
was abruptly replaced by Horatio
Gates and never forgave this slight
to his reputation.
Saratoga National
Historic Park
Quackenbush House
Built in 1730 and probably the
oldest structure in Albany, this
was the home of
Colonel Hendrick
Quackenbush who
fought with the 5th
Military Regiment at
Saratoga. Next door
on Quackenbush
Square is the Albany
Heritage Visitor
Center.
“It’s amazing and humbling,” Mary
says, “to think that someone in your
own bloodline helped create this ...
the basis for our entire life in this
country.”
Forty miles north of Albany,
this sprawling park of battlefields,
historic homes and monuments
deserves a full-day’s visit. New
since last summer is the 22-acre
“Victory Woods,” the final encampment of British
forces where
Burgoyne –
surrounded by
Continentals and
his own disbelief –
contemplated
the unthinkable:
surrender.
Quackenbush House, Albany.
Photo: Matt H. Wade
5
“Hey Joe ... what’s the snafu?” Recalling the colorful,
enduring language of the war years
Walt Whitman called it the voice of
“common humanity expressing itself
illimitably.” For the prairie poet Carl
Sandburg, it was “language that takes
off its coat, spits on its hands ... and
goes to work.”
They were talking about slang.
Etymologists marvel. Academic linguists moan. It seems Americans have
an inborn predilection and genius for
slang – funny, ribald, shocking and
often more accurate than the pedestrian “King’s English.” For example,
it’s one thing to be fooled ... but
infinitely more humiliating to get
“hornswoggled.”
Words such as rumbumptious, lollygag and hubba-hubba could only
have been coined here.
And our Eddy residents will tell
you, American verbal inventiveness
reached a zenith during World War
II. Home-front civilians and (Government Issue) G. I. Joes produced a
trove of quips and dark euphemisms
that are still being used by younger
generations – though their poignant
original meanings have been lost.
Take the term “snafu.”
“Oh my gosh, there were days when
everything was a snafu,” laughs Kathryn Frentzos of The Glen at Hiland
Meadows. Kathryn was an Army major
and chief nurse of a hospital in Italy.
Although more than 60 years later,
snafu is part of everyday vernacular;
many don’t know it was an onomatopoeic acronym for “Situation Normal, All Fouled Up.” (There was an
R-rated version, too, which we need
not elaborate!) Snafu was invented by
soldiers frustrated with military redtape, delays and “screw ups.” It was
designed to mock Army acronyms.
“Fubar” is another: “Fouled Up Beyond All Recognition.”
Forgotten today is that “snafus” often
got soldiers killed.
“Buying the farm” is another heartrending expression from World War
II, this one often used by pilots.
America was then largely a rural
nation. And a small farm symbolized peace and tranquility. Squadron
pals often claimed that after the war,
they’d buy a farm somewhere and
settle down. When a pilot went missing, his grieving mates would euphemistically say, “Joe finally bought that
farm.” (British airmen said their missing pilots had “gone for a Burton,”
a popular brand of ale.)
“Everybody was ‘Joe’ in those
days,” says Kathryn. “Whenever
a man enlisted in the army or was
drafted, people would ask, ‘when do
you go, Joe?’”
Many nonsense expressions of that
era, such as “jeepers creepers” and
6
“holy cow” were sanitized versions
of blasphemous exclamations. “I used
to say jeepers creepers all the time,”
says Helen Parker of Beechwood,
“but as a girl I really didn’t know
what it meant.”
And who can forget the most ubiquitous figure of Kilroy. “He had a bald,
round head and a long nose,” says
Dick Metzger of Hawthorne Ridge,
“and that long nose was always poking over a fence or wall somewhere.”
With this simple graffiti were the
words, “Kilroy was here.”
Kilroy came to stand for any American, anywhere, and his inquisitive
nose appeared from Burma to Berlin
to Baltimore. As we know, Kilroy
survived the war, as did a host of
slang expressions. Here’s a brief
sample of words and expressions
from the war era:
•Cool
•There’s no percentage in it
•Take a rain check
•Blockbuster (originally a reference to bombs)
•What’s cooking?
•Straighten up and fly right
•Doodlebug (small rail car
or airplane)
•Threads (coined in the 1920s,
first widely use in the 1940s)
•Lollapalooza (see humdinger)
•Breezer (convertible automobile)
Finding your balance: yoga and other forms
of gentle exercise
As she was entering her eighth decade, like many older adults Helen
Webster began to bump up against
what she believed were inevitable
physical limits.
“I had less range of movement in my
body ... particularly one shoulder,”
she says, “and I seemed to have a
permanent kink in my back.”
Then she tried yoga. Two brief sessions a week: nothing radical, a few
basic stretching and breathing exercises. Now that kink is gone. “I’ll be
90 this year and I don’t seem to have
those aches and pains anymore,” says
Helen, a resident of Glen Eddy. “I feel
much more flexible than I did even
10 years ago.”
Stories such as Helen’s seem to defy
logic, but certified yoga instructors
hear them every day.
“One woman had been struggling
with medically resistant high cholesterol all of her life,” says Gina Mauro,
who teaches a weekly yoga class at
Glen Eddy. “She told me yoga finally
helped her lower it. There was no
other possible explanation. Yoga
was the only thing she was doing
differently.”
Impossible? Actually it makes medical sense. Stress is strongly connected
to cardiovascular health and cholesterol levels. Yoga is known to reduce
anxiety. Study after study has shown
that people who regularly practice
yoga feel better, sleep better, lose
weight and dramatically increase
their flexibility and balance.
The results are not overnight, researchers say, but
they are lasting.
“I have yoga students from age 9
into their 90s,” says Gina. But the
benefits for seniors seem to be exponentially greater.
To some, the idea of yoga is a bit
“too California.” It comes across as a
program of Hindu mind-body spirituality and outrageous meditative poses.
But never mind all that, says Gina. You
don’t need to be able to stand on your
head, or maintain the lotus position.
“For me personally, yes, there are
philosophical aspects, but I don’t get
preachy in our classes at Glen Eddy.
We keep it simple. Even residents in
wheelchairs can benefit tremendously
from these very gentle exercises.”
It’s little wonder that Gina’s classes
each Friday are popular. “The goal
is to be more comfortable in your
body,” she says.
A cousin of yoga is tai chi, which was
adapted thousands of years ago into
a form of slow-motion “soft martial
arts.” But again, you don’t need to be
a ninja warrior.
At our Hawthorne Ridge community,
David and Gloria Wood practice tai
chi. They also do once-a-week chair
aerobics. “These are simple bending,
turning and stretching exercises that
really help with balance,” says David.
“If you can stand for 50 minutes, you
can do tai chi,” David says, “But even
chair aerobics (sitting in a chair or
standing next to it) can make a difference with balance and mobility.”
“It really is a question of ‘use it or lose
it,’” adds Gloria.
The extraordinary health benefits of
tai chi and similar exercises are clinically proven.
In a 2006 study at the University of
Illinois, seniors with an average age of
80 showed “strong improvement” in
balance, flexibility and energy levels as
soon as six months after starting a tai
chi program. They slept better too.
Another study by the Mayo Clinic
reported improved coordination,
relief from chronic stiffness and pain,
even lower blood pressure. Seniors
felt better, fell less often and were
more active. University of California,
Los Angeles researchers found tai
chi had a significant impact in alleviating depression.
Can yoga or a similar exercise program help you live longer? Maybe
or maybe not, says Helen, “but
better, definitely yes.”
“The Eddy itself is conducive to
longevity,” says Helen. “This is
such a positive environment.”
7
For the excitement and
extra pay, Bill volunteered for
submarine duty. He received
rigorous training in every
engineering aspect of a boat.
Most submariners simply try
to endure this arcane material.
Bill positively drank it in. “I’d
Bill Everett
learned my times tables from
the Franciscan brothers,” he jokes, and it turned out
the Brooklyn-born kid had a genius for engineering
procedures and problem-solving.
Ten years later, Bill left the Navy with a practical understanding of hydraulics, propulsion, control systems
and procedures to rival any engineering graduate.
Before long, the Grumann Corporation called.
“Most people don’t realize that submarine control
systems are similar to those on aircraft,” Bill says. “It’s
really the same concept – tail fins and rudders.” At
Grumann, he helped develop testing and support procedures for jet fighters such as the F-14. Soon he was
running an entire department of technical writers. This
alone could have been a career-capping achievement.
But then John Kennedy made a speech. And a few
days later, “My boss said he was transferring me to
the LEM program. I said, ‘what the hell is a LEM?”
As we now know, it stands for Lunar Excursion
Module.
Over the next several years, working shoulder to
shoulder with NASA personnel, Bill and his team
developed testing and system-monitoring manuals for
the LEM. One day in July of 1969, a CBS news crew
arrived at Bill’s home – to celebrate and record his reaction as astronauts Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin
touched down on the moon.
Bill is quick to say, “I was just a small cog in a very
large machine.” And today, enjoying life at The Glen
at Hiland Meadows, he looks back and wonders
“how I ever accomplished what I did.”
“I never did get that sheepskin,” he says, “but I guess
I did my job.”
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Flavors 450: Sensational taste makes good sense
When we think of award-winning
chefs or new culinary trends, places
like Los Angeles or New Orleans –
or the Oprah Show – usually come
to mind. But right here in Slingerlands, there’s an exclusive “new”
restaurant you should know about.
It’s the dining room of our Beverwyck
community.
This summer, our Executive Chef
Tony Huff and his colleagues introduced Flavors 450, a menu of sumptuous yet nutritious and low-calorie
entrees conceived by one of Oprah’s
favorite guests, Morrison VP and
culinary guru, Cary Neff. Morrison
provides consulting and management
services for our popular Eddy dining
rooms.
Here’s just a foretaste ... baby spinach,
artichoke hearts,
cherry tomatoes and
toasted farro with
poached salmon ...
butternut squash
risotto-style with
parmesan cheese,
grated nutmeg,
spinach and chicken
sword ... Italian farro, roasted shallots,
turkey bacon and root vegetables in
an almond cream sauce ... bulgur
wheat pilaf with sun-dried tomatoes,
Kalamata olives and edamame.
Getting hungry? It seems incredible
that these mouth-watering recipes
could tip the calorie scale at only
450, but this is where science meets
culinary art.
“The secret is in
the preparation”,
explains Carole
DeBonte, a dietitian
and nutrition manager for Eddy Retirment Living.
“Balance is the key ...
these recipes combine natural ingredients in the right
portions, prepared the right way,”
says Carole. “There are more than 60
different recipes. Working with our
executive chefs ... people such as Tony
and Marc Billings at Beverwyck ...
Cary Neff created a unique and
really beautiful approach to flavor
and nutrition.”
Bon appétit!