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Restaurateur to Cook in Musician's Home: A response to Craigslist Ad

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Written by Hungry Musician Hungry Musician

Category: Music Music

I Just Want to Sing

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Written by Betty Lundy Betty Lundy

Category: Music Music

One month after my sixty-sixth birthday, and one month before retirement in 2009 I was on stage at Carnegie Hall. Along with other members of the Warwick Valley Chorale combined with choirs from across the USA, we were singing a tribute to Duke Ellington in honor of what would have been his 100^th birthday. Getting to Carnegie Hall and less than a year later to Lincoln Center’s Avery Fisher Hall and soon after that to Greece to sing in the Festival of the Aegean did in fact take lots of practice, practice, practice, but that wasn’t all it took.  Mine was a crooked path filled with many obstacles along which I lost my way at times, but for a girl who dreamed all her life of being a professional singer when she grew up, these are the things of which dreams are made. I haven’t made a bucket list, but if I had nothing could have topped these.

My mama told me I sang before I spoke, and my daddy encouraged me with constant praise. His dream was for me to grow up to sing professionally. How this would be accomplished was another matter, and one that nobody in the family was equipped to help me attain. Money for Catholic schooling was hard to come by in those post WWII days and both my parents had had to quit school before receiving high school diplomas. Their earning power was reduced due to lack of education and the babies kept coming. Eventually we numbered seven girls and one boy.

I hated school. I played “hooky” to keep from going. I would hide behind Mrs. Jobe’s black sedan parked in the driveway of her country market several blocks from our house where I would catch the school bus. On those mornings when school was the last place I wanted to be, I would watch with eagle eyes from a crouched position behind her car until the driver drove away. Then I would walk back home and pretend I had either “missed the bus”, or was “sick”. I don’t remember why I hated school, but I do remember how much I loved being home with mama “helping” her with my four younger pre-school age sisters. Mama was a good singer and music from the radio filled our house as she went about her daily chores singing along with the popular artists of the late 1940s and early 1950s. I sang along. Music made everything seem so nice.

Then in the summer of 1953 daddy took a job transfer and bought a bigger house for his growing family that now included five daughters. One month before I started fourth grade at St John Catholic School, daddy entered me in a talent contest at a neighborhood community center. I won a blue ribbon with First Place written on it in silver glitter after singing You Are My Sunshine a capella.  The day daddy enrolled me at the new school I went with him. After his meeting with the principal Sister Thomas Aquinas she asked if it was true I liked to sing. When I answered in the affirmative she invited me to join the choir that would sing the Mass every morning before school. Whatever I have achieved in my life is due to the conversations that occurred that day between my daddy and Sister Thomas Aquinas. I never skipped school again. My academic record in grammar school improved and was good enough to earn me a scholarship to Sacred Heart High School where for four years I sang in the choir, glee club and every musical production. After graduation, since there was no money for college, I entered the work force as a data entry clerk and set aside part of my income for private piano and voice lessons.

I met Bob in 1968, and we married in 1973. I had three miscarriages in our first three years of marriage and was in need of a change. Bob’s artwork had been accepted in major exhibitions in the southeast, so partly to be close to the New York art scene and partly to pursue our interest in the spiritual teachings of G. I. Gurdjieff we arrived in Warwick on a bitterly cold January day in 1977.  A month later we learned we were pregnant again and in June of ‘77 our daughter Karen was born. She was born three months premature. After spending four and a half months in New York Hospital’s neonatal preemie intensive care unit we brought her home.

Severely neurologically impaired and with a host of chronic medical conditions Karen became the primary focus of our lives for the next thirty years.  The first five years of her life we undertook a home therapy program known as “patterning” which required volunteers from the community. Our day began at 9 am and continued on until dinnertime seven days a week for five years until Karen started school at Orange Ulster BOCES in 1982.

Then one day in the late 1980s I ran into a friend, Jan Evans, at the Grand Union. She mentioned she was the current president of the Warwick Valley Chorale and knowing of my love of singing she invited me to join. I did. At that time Sophia Bayno the music teacher at Burke Catholic High School in Goshen, was the conductor. That fall I auditioned and was given a solo for the hymn The Jesus Gift which was to be offered as part of the Chorale’s Christmas concert. In November my parents came from Memphis to visit. Ms. Bayno invited them to attend a rehearsal in the church. Even now I can’t enter the sanctuary of the Reformed Church without thinking of my parents sitting there that night beaming with pride as they watched me do what I had done so many times in my youth and which they had never failed to witness. We had no way of knowing this would be the last time.  Daddy passed away two years later. Ms. Bayno gave me back my dreams. She gave me the solo for Schubert’s Ave Maria which I sang at the 25^th anniversary of the Pine Island Onion Festival in 1989. As a result of that exposure I was sought after for local weddings, funerals and memorial services and for the next ten years made somewhat of a name for myself locally as a singer.

The next decade proved to be a very demanding one on my time and energy. My job at Orange Ulster BOCES coupled with night classes at Orange County Community College and five years of life threatening medical emergencies with Karen and the death of my mother and Bob’s father overwhelmed me. I was taking care of business from sunup until sundown. My little girl dreams died.

Then suddenly I turned sixty five. Retirement was on the horizon.  I began an anxious search for the girl I once was, to discover who she was before boys, babies and bills. What gave her joy? What made her anxious to get out of bed in the morning?  Then one day I bumped into my friend Norma Bennett in Akin’s Pharmacy who asked if I was singing anywhere and when I told her I wasn’t she suggested I join a choral group with her in Vernon, New Jersey. The group was  directed by Warwick’s David Crone. I joined and immediately knew I would stay. Crone’s dynamism was infectious. Singing under his direction was exhilarating. Even though my voice had deteriorated over the years, and I no longer had the full three octave range I once had, I was hooked. I loved the musical selections and came to look forward to the weekly rehearsals with my fellow choristers. I sang with them for two seasons until Mr. Crone retired.

I rejoined the Warwick Valley Chorale in the fall of 2009. No longer under the direction of Ms. Bayno, the director was now Stanley Curtis. During the intermission of the home Christmas Concert  that December, Mr. Curtis announced the chorale had been invited by Mid America Productions to participate in a musical tribute to Duke Ellington the coming May at Carnegie Hall!

I didn’t know what a thrill it would be until I was actually there. I had never dreamed I would one day sing at Carnegie Hall or Lincoln Center. My dreams were not that grandiose. I had never been out of the United States. Yet here I stood on the front row of the stage at Carnegie Hall and Avery Fisher Hall and on the steps of the government building on Miaoulis Square of Syros Greece. At each venue of this past year I stood as in a dream with a lump in my throat so big I couldn’t sing a note at first.  I remember standing on the steps of that building in Greece surrounded by five hundred fellow singers with the Pan-European Philharmonia in front of me and Peter Tiboris in front of them about to conduct Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana and mindfully studying the surrounding scene of classic Greek architecture back-dropped by a cloudless full moon sky in an effort to imprint the image in my memory and on my heart. My eyes were filled with tears at the realization  dreams can come true, even the dreams we never dared to dream. I also thought of those two simple people from the boot heel of Missouri, whom necessity had transplanted to Memphis, Tennessee whose daughter now stood in this beautiful far away land exuberant, ecstatic and encouraged to reconnect in this her final third of life with the child they created.

Betty has been a freelance writer for the Warwick Advertiser, writing a series of articles on the historic buildings in the village and interesting people in the town of Warwick. She has also written for the Times Herald Record and a series of articles about artists. Betty has been married to local artist/golf instructor/ builder Bob Lundy for 38 years. Their daughter Karen is 34.

Flood Clean-up, Book Removal and the 10 Books I Saved

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Written by George L. Nitti George L. Nitti

Category: Health & Spirit Health & Spirit

It’s been more than two peaceful weeks since the last flood clean-up here in upstate New York. Cleaning up seems to have become a yearly ritual for me (I’ve cleaned up 3 floods this year alone), and I have a fairly secure job when flood time comes. Repeatedly I have been hired to clean-up a flooded basement that was once home to approximately 1500 books.

It’s not something I look forward to, as the work entailed may be fairly unpleasant, almost always requiring that I wear a mask and inhale toxic gases and cleansing agents. The property is situated on a concave parking lot where the water gathers, forming a pool perfect for kayaking rather than parking cars. And the water flows around the building and down into the basement, pouring in so rapidly that the sump pump can’t keep up. You can imagine what I find when I enter the basement to begin my clean-up efforts, discovering that there is usually no less than four feet of water before I even get started.

As a college graduate holding a master's degree in English rather than environmental engineering, you might think that I would sniff at such work; but I'm learning to pursue work that pays well rather than gives me ego gratification in terms of how I define myself. Nobody pays me for my poetry these days and I don't think my poem "Ode to a Flood" is going to hit the NY Times Bestseller List.

Flood clean-up is a different story altogether, commanding a decent wage. Although not exactly Wall St. pay, my commute is only 5 miles and I get to wear my favorite tee-shirt along with some other fine rags. Floods like this give me plenty of time for reflection. “Cleanliness is next to Godliness” I repeat over and over, as it helps get me through the initial stages of an unseemly process.

This flood was different in one important respect. I was ordered to dispose of all of the books sitting atop the book shelves, for fear that over the years they had been tainted by foul smells and mold accumulating from prior floods. It was time to clear the basement of the books, to take down the shelves and empty the space completely. Some people cannot bear the thought of books being tossed out, regardless of the shape in which they appear. I have thrown out many books, for one reason or another, regardless of appearance, subject matter or the age of the book. A book is just an object and I’ve learned to detach when it comes to its removal. I'm quite skilled at what I do, emotionally speaking.

As a kind of book mortician, I take my work seriously. Wearing my Paris Review tee-shirt, it is of great satisfaction knowing that the fate of these books is in good hands, as if I am uniquely qualified in some way to carry out this duty. As a book lover, a former bookstore owner and English teacher, aren't those credentials good enough?

You should know that with each book that I toss into a dumpster, I have blessed it before it departs to a distant landfill. During this flood, a University Professor drops by, witnessing my actions in the heat of book removal.  It offended his academic sensibilities to see the sheer numbers of books being tossed. Like everyone else who stopped by, he too speculated on the merits of saving the books, perhaps clinging to a romantic notion that a book is a sacred object. With the IPad or Kindle, where one can easily hold thousands of books in the palm of a hand, a physical book's sanctity is no longer the subject of debate.

If it is of any solace, however, I decided to save 10 books. The books were judged by title and cover and I vowed that I would at least look over their contents, hopefully even read them at some point in time. These are the books that I saved.

1.) A Man Without Words - A flimsy paperback, worth no more than 2 dollars in a used bookshop, I identified with the title, for much of my time cleaning up required no language use. My work is often done in solitary where words are not exchanged. I wondered, would this book help me identify with my human condition? I kept it because I wanted to find out what it was like to be a man without words.

2.) The Onion Eaters - The cover of this book is beautiful, with four golden onions embossed, reminding me that the loss of a harvest, as in the case of farmers who lost their onions to Hurricane Irene, is of more tragic consequence than the loss of 1500 books.

3.) Albrecht Durer and the Venetian Renaissance - Skimming through the book, I note it is heavy with academic discourse that might bore most. But as a title, I appreciate the significance that one artist plays in serving as a catalyst to help create a Renaissance. Perhaps it’s a book I’d like to write myself, in layman terms.

4.) Shoulder Fractures: The Practical Guide to Management - Knowing the book business, I recognize a book that would fetch a nice price on Amazon, as the medical niche book market commands good prices. Pair it with a shrink wrapped book on microsurgery, I can easily make a few hundred dollars on book sales. However, I selected the book on shoulder fractures because after tossing 1500 books into a dumpster using one of my shoulders, I wanted more insight on why it was giving me some pain.

5.) Faith Made Them Champions -  This won the prize for best book jacket in my estimation. Now I am reading about Bob Feller, in his own words, and the faith that made him a champion.  I am inspired after reading only a few paragraphs to continue reading. I can’t wait to dig in to all of the other stories told by the champions of yesterday.

6.) Women of Flowers - This book is a tribute to Victorian women illustrators who have a talent for illustrating and painting flowers.  I have a hard time letting go of such beauty, knowing that Kerryl too will enjoy this book. If I were on a Caribbean Island, I might be inspired to take up a paint brush and become an illustrator myself.

7.) F Scott Fitzgerald in Minnesota: Toward the Summit - F.Scott is one of my favorite writers. I’d like to read about his Minnesota Days and the days before Gatsby was written. Something about Minnesota that hearkens me back to my younger years living in North Dakota. We all have a past.

8.) Entering Space: Creating a Seafaring Civilization - This is a hardcover, in almost perfect shape. I am curious about whether there is a future in our space frontier. I’m dazzled by its infinite scope and the potentiality to traverse it. Will we be able to inhabit planets in a hundred years? A thousand years? What beauty lies beyond earth that parallels the marvels of our own planet?

9.) The Canterbury Tales - I’m not sure why I plucked this book out, as it is written in old English and does not contain a translation.  I like the feel of its slick cover, and I know that it just might keep me company over the long haul, when my mind and soul are probing for something deeper, something to study and ruminate on.

10.) Home Comfort: Life on Total Loss Farm - My heart continues to go out to all those farmers who’ve lost so much due to Hurricane Irene. I read a passage about a farming family making do with what’s in their empty cupboard. I count my blessings for what I do have.

I am planning a vacation soon. I am going somewhere to recuperate from flood clean-up. I’m not sure whether I will take my new books with me. Maybe I will take one. Maybe this collection of ten will stay with me my entire life. Or maybe, one by one, they will drop out of sight or gather mold and have to be tossed. It’s hard to predict. I don’t know whether I will ever be called to clean-up another flood. If not, I wonder if I might even miss it, as I get to dig through the artifacts of my life. I refuse to be defined or to even define myself in light of all of the possibilities tomorrow may bring. For me, even when I am in the midst of cleaning-up floods, I feel I’m on a personal voyage of discovery taking me beyond space and time.

Land of Dreams, Imaginings, and Visions: A History of the Mid-Orange Correctional Facility Site from the Indian Era to the Present

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Written by Dr. Richard Hull Dr. Richard Hull

Category: Education Education

The nearly eight hundred acres that comprise the former Mid-Orange Correctional Facility have for centuries been a place of dreams, imaginings and visions. For at least a millennium Algonkian-speaking Lenape Indians fished in the crystal clear waters of Wickham Lake, experimenting with new forms of weirs and netsinkers.  

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A Day in the Volt and Giving Thanks Along the Way

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Written by George L. Nitti George L. Nitti

Category: Health & Spirit Health & Spirit

"Our day in the Volt" began enroute to Country Chevrolet, where we picked up the electric car called The Volt. The holiday season was gearing up, as it was just before Thanksgiving. Our first stop would be Greenwood Lake True Value where we had some business to take care of. When we arrived, Bernie, the owner of the store, presented us with a check for our advertising services. I asked Kerryl what she might like to purchase as I was intent to give something back to our local merchants. For Kerryl it wasn't an easy decision, as she wasn't used to me pushing her to shop and buy.  But she did finally decide on an outdoor thermometer with one of her favoritie images of a cardinal, along with some batteries and a 10 pound bag of bird seed.

After we posed for a group picture, Frank, one of the friendly and indispensable employees, suggested we take the holiday bow with us, but Kerryl and I had a hard time accepting it, and put it back where we found it.

When we returned to the car, Kerryl revealed to me that she would have liked the big Christmas bow because it represented something special and festive for the holidays. Driving to Country Chevrolet to pick up the car, we discussed our inability to sometimes receive gifts and our desire to do a better job of being more receptive in the future. I knew that she could find many uses for that holiday bow; for me, it was a missed opportunity to lay it upon the Chevy Volt, as part of some kind of happy ending I was projecting into the future.

When we got to Country Chevrolet, owner Frank Petrucci greeted us by first handing me something that was akin to a car key, as we had made arrangements to take the Volt around Orange County, NY. It was raining steadily outside and we were asked whether we might want to reschedule our drive. When Frank assured us that we would not get electrocuted, as that was one of the misconceptions some prospective buyers had about the Volt, we were most intent to go forward with our drive.

Before we left the Chevy building, we presented Frank and Country Chevrolet with a gift, a signed cookbook by Marcello Russodivito of Marcello's Restaurant in Suffern, NY, entitled The Story of My 25 Years as Chef-Owner, which we were promoting the previous week at part of a Booksigning, Cooking Demonstration, Wine and Food tasting hosted by Uncorked Wines and Spirits in West Milford, NJ and produced by Warwick Valley Living.

We then opened up our umbrellas and made way to the Volt where Frank kindly and patiently taught us how to charge it, start it, turn on the heat and windshield wipers, use Sirius radio, navigate with GPS and employ basic functions and other cool features needed to get our journey underway. Kerryl and I were both impressed by the display panel, with its special effects and neat sounds, and I was already anticipating regret that I would not be able to keep the car permanently. Here was the Volt, the future in front of us, technology at its best and we were sitting at its cutting edge feeling much excitement and expectation.

Where would we go, what would we do? A day prior, I had stopped into Warwick Valley Travel for an itinerary, asking owner Carol Laskos places she could recommend. Although she doesn't handle booking local destinations, she suggested the wineries such as Brotherhood or Warwick Valley Winery, Museum Village in Monroe, and the Thayer Hotel at West Point. I was bristling with enthusiasm, thanking her for her input, while kiddingly suggesting that next time she arrange an African Safari for us as I grabbed a brochure on my way out. Then I visited Joe Irace of Irace Architects, whose office was next door, asking whether he could kindly arrange a tour of an equestrian center, one of his specialties as an architect. Kerryl loves horses and I wanted to surprise her with a horseback ride or at least a stroll through a barn where we could pet and watch horses. He gave me a phone number and name to contact.

None of these ideas would come to pass, however. Just as we were getting ready to leave Country Chevrolet, one of their employees mentioned that his father was Nick Zungoli of Exposures Gallery in Sugarloaf and recommended we stop there.  It was late afternoon, with only a couple of hours of light left in the day, and I realized that our plans would change. As we were driving down King's Highway on our way to Sugarloaf with the car nicely gripping the road with Sirius Radio providing great vibes, Kerryl indicated that she wanted to stop and pick up apples at Applewood Winery so that she could make another gluten free apple crisp. I told her apple season was over and to forget about it. Satisfied with my response, as we approached the turn to Applewood Orchards, I surprisingly found myself turning the wheel in its direction, if for no other reason than to show Kerryl that apple season was over and that there were no more apples anywhere to be found.

When we arrived to Applewood Orchards, there were no cars in the parking lot and all lights in their market area were off. I started to gloat, when Kerryl noticed a dim light on in a garage facility just behind the market area, and suggested we knock on the door. Standing before us was the proprietor of the winery, John Hull, master vintner, who said he was making wine. I said. "We were just wondering if you had any apples?" "No," he responded. "We don't have anymore apples. Apple season is over. But if you'd like, I can give you a wine tasting."

David led us in to the tasting room where we tried several Applewood wines and talked about David's uncle, Warwick town historian Richard Hull, whom we admire, adore and respect. I wanted Richard's phone number, desiring to take him for a spin in the Volt, but Kerryl cautioned that I calm down and stay present. While there, we had many laughs together and just as we were getting ready to leave, David offered us one of Applewood's special ciders as a gift. This time, we embraced it, making sure to accept it wholeheartedly and wished their entire family a Happy Thanksgiving before we left.

Now we were on to the next destination, with only 10 minutes to get there, praying that Zungoli's Exposures Gallery was still open. I stepped on the accelerator and opened up the car along one of Sugarloaf's country backroads, gleefully saying to Kerryl, "Let's see what this baby can do." Although the traction was excellent in rain and the car accelerated quickly with powerful pick-up, Kerryl cautioned to slow it down on the slick roads as we continued to make our way towards our destination. Arriving, we were relieved to find the gallery open. We were drawn to Zungoli's fabulous Hudson Valley Photography and a new exhibition called the Mekong Journal, which documented, through photos and writings, Zungoli's two trips down the Mekong River over the course of 3 months, through several Southeast Asian countries, of which he had whittled down a handful of photos from more than the six thousand that he took.

 Next stop I planned to surprise Kerryl as I headed off through Chester, NY towards the town of Florida driving along Rt. 94. She kept insisting to know where we were going. I turned off on Glenmere Rd. when she realized I could be taking her to the Glenmere Mansion. "I thought we'd have a glass of wine together and some romance," I said. Kerryl had never been inside the mansion. As we pulled up through the gates, we were stopped at the entrance and asked if we had a reservation. "I don't have a reservation," I said. "But I'm doing a special project on the Volt and would like to include the Glenmere." "I'm sorry," he said. "We are all booked for tonight. You are going to have to turn your car around." I wanted to say, "But this is the Volt." I could see that there would be no arguing or pleading our way into the Glenmere, as if Obama himself were on premises and we were up against the tightest of security measures. I turned to Kerryl and shrugged, apologizing for not making reservations and promised her we'd come back another time.

"Just as well," Kerryl said. "We've got the dogs at home. And we still haven't eaten dinner yet. Let's get to Viviano's." On our way back towards Warwick, Kerryl insisted we stop at the Dollar Tree. Although it was steadily raining, the weather outside was balmy and I did not mind kicking my feet through a couple of puddles or standing in the rain. Playfully entering the store, I snapped a photograph of Kerryl but was immediately scolded by an employee not to take anymore pictures, as it was against store policy. We picked up roasted peanuts, sourdough pretzel nuggets, a package of bite-sized snickers, dot candy, refried beans, a glow wand, a fleece blanket, a six muffin tin pan and a couple of other items all for around 10 bucks!

Driving through the town of Florida, I wanted to introduce my girl to the owner of the The Old Vine, a new boutique wineshop specializing in unusual fine wines, and thought we might pick something up in light of our recent disappointment at the Glenmere. Kerryl thought with the holidays and my birthday just around the corner, a bottle of champagne might be in order. Before long we were engaged in a lengthy, educational discussion about the genre of bubbly and sparkling wines. Kerryl narrowed her focus down to two choices, opting for a French Brut over a Spanish Cava.

Soon, we made haste to Warwick, where we would enjoy dinner at Trattoria Viviano's, which was across the street from Country Chevrolet, the Volt's home. I made my dinner selection from their special fall menu; Kerryl was anxiously looking forward to their homemade wood fired pizza. We finally settled on a nice bottle of Italian wine and enjoyed the rest of the evening together, delightfully eating and drinking. Owner Rose Viviano so cordially asked us if we would like a fire and we happily consented, as it became the backdrop of our romantic evening.

Our Volt adventure carried over the next day, when we used it to check in with approximately a dozen business owners from West Milford, NJ to Warwick, NY to spread the gospel about this progressive vehicle which operates not only on an electric charge but has a gas tank that covers a distance of approximately 275 miles on a full tank. I wanted to let business owners know that there are a couple of charging stations in Warwick, one at the South St. Parking lot just outside Peck's Wines and Spirits, and the other at Price Chopper while answering questions anyone might have about the vehicle, based on our recent experience. Many were interested to know the range of the electric charge, the price and other details, which can be found at Country Chevrolet's website.

We also stopped in to wish as many business owners a happy Thanksgiving and holiday season as time allotted and to let them know we are thankful for their continued support as we are committed to helping them promote business and our community. We regretfully couldn't get to all of the businesses we wanted to, but if you are interested in a visit or have further questions about the Volt, I'm sure Country Chevrolet can help make arrangements.

It was a fun, eventful 24 hours and we realized our job as publishers at Warwick Valley Living in some ways is like living a dream. Living a dream in an electric car with a future that is wide open with endless possibilities. Around the holiday season, we too are reminded to give thanks for the gifts of family, friends, community, nation and world.

A Day in the Volt gave us much time to count our blessings, helping us to see how rich we really are with respect to all of the gifts we can share with each other. I took a few minutes to pen a thank you note to Country Chevrolet on the back of a postcard that I picked up at Exposure's Gallery. By sharing a portion, it's our way of saying thank you so very much to everyone we touch (and who touch us), near and far. Happy Holidays and all the very best for a Happy New Year!

On Sabbatical: Snippets and Snapshots from World Travels

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Written by Lou Marinoff with intro by George L Nitti Lou Marinoff with intro by George L Nitti

Category: Travel Travel

My acquaintance with philosophy professor Lou Marinoff began several years back. As we were reaching the zenith of our cultural outreach to the community at the bookstore in Warwick, Lou volunteered to give a talk on Moby Dick. For me, it was affirmation that I was on the right track – that somehow we could measure ourselves by books that help us look more deeply into our own nature.  Lou’s charming personality, his quick witted style, his philosophic perspectives and teaching authority, his worldly vision…he was one such man that exemplified what it means to become a whole person.

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