A big red ship has been hanging out for several days on the Hudson River—right in our sight line. What is that thing doing? Joe Bruno has found the answer: it’s a cable-laying ship, laying a cable beneath the Hudson.
But what is it for? Its goal is to transport electricity from Canada to New York City.
Want to know more (note: pictures are included)? Click below.
From the Office of Ellen Ottstadt
Names (and the Trouble With Them)
A name was the most basic marker of identity for centuries, but it often wasn’t enough. In ancient Greece, to distinguish between people with the same first name, individuals were also identified by their father’s name. For example, an Athenian pottery shard from the fifth century BCE names Pericles as “Pericles son of Xanthippus.” In ancient Egypt, the naming convention might have reflected the name of a master rather than a parent.
But when everyone shared the same name—as in one Roman Egyptian declaration in 146 CE, signed by “Stotoetis, son of Stotoetis, grandson of Stotoetis”—things could get muddled. To resolve this, officials turned to another strategy: describing the body itself.
Scars and Silk
Detailed physical descriptions often served as a kind of textual portrait. An Egyptian will from 242 BCE describes its subject with remarkable specificity: “65 years old, of middle height, square built, dim-sighted, with a scar on the left part of the temple and on the right side of the jaw and also below the cheek and above the upper lip.” Such marks made the body “legible” for identification.
In 15th-century Bern, Switzerland, when authorities sought to arrest a fraudulent winemaker, they didn’t just list his name. They issued a description: “large fat Martin Walliser, and he has on him a silk jerkin.” Clothing—then a significant investment and deeply symbolic—became part of someone’s identifying characteristics. A person’s outfit could mark their profession, social standing, or even their city of origin.
Badges and Insignia
Uniforms and insignia served a similar function, especially for travelers. In the late 15th century, official couriers from cities such as Basel, Switzerland, and Strasburg, France, wore uniforms in city colors and carried visible badges. Pilgrims and beggars in the late Middle Ages and beyond were also required to wear specific objects—such as metal badges or tokens—that marked their status and origin. Some badges allowed the bearer to beg legally or buy subsidized bread, offering both practical aid and visible authentication.
Seals, Signatures, and Letters
Seals also served as powerful proxies for the self. From Mesopotamian cylinder seals to Roman oculist stamps and medieval wax impressions, these identifiers could represent both authority and authenticity. In medieval Britain, seals were often made of beeswax and attached to documents with colored tags. More than just utilitarian tools, seals were embedded with personal iconography and could even be worn as jewelry.
In many cases, travelers also had to carry letters from local priests or magistrates identifying who they were. By the 16th century, such documentation became increasingly essential, and failing to carry an identity paper could result in penalties. This passport-like system of “safe conduct” documents gradually started to spread. What began as a protection for merchants and diplomats evolved into a bureaucratic necessity for everyday people.
As written records became more widespread in medieval Europe, so did the need for permanent, portable identifiers. Royal interest in documenting property and legal rights led to the proliferation of official records, which in turn prompted the spread of literacy. Even as early as the 13th century in England, it was already considered risky to travel far without written identification.
The signature eventually emerged as a formal marker of identity, especially among literate elites, and was common by the 18th century. Still, in a mostly oral culture, signatures functioned more as ceremonial gestures than verification tools.
Heraldry and Livery
For the European upper classes, heraldry functioned as a visual shorthand for identity and lineage. Coats of arms adorned not only armor and flags but also furniture, buildings, and clothing. Retainers wore livery bearing their master’s symbols, making them recognizable on sight. Even death could not erase this symbolism—funerals were staged with heraldic banners, horses emblazoned with arms, and crests atop hearses.
Yet heraldry could also be diluted or faked. By the 16th century, unauthorized use of coats of arms was widespread, and forgers such as the Englishman William Dawkyns were arrested for selling false pedigrees and impersonating royal officers. In time, heraldry gradually lost its power to function as a reliable ID system.
Memory and Proximity
In the end, one of the most effective early methods of identification was simply being known. In rural communities, neighbors kept tabs on each other through personal memory and observation. You didn’t need a signature if the village priest or market vendor had known you since birth.
But with the rise of cities and the disruption of industrialization, such personal networks broke down. The state stepped in with systems of registration, documentation, and, eventually, visual records. Identity, once rooted in familiarity and the body, became a matter of paperwork and policy.
Before the photograph fixed the face in official form starting around the late 19th century, people relied on a more fluid, and sometimes fragile, constellation of signs: names, scars, clothing, crests, seals, and simple familiarity. All were attempts to answer the same eternal question—who are you?—in the absence of a camera’s eye.
Source: historyfacts.com
Contributed by Jane Hart
Contributed by Barbara Bruno
Contributed by Barbara Wallach
Contributed by Barbara Bruno
Art and photo by Sheila Benedis
Ms. Poole was delighted to have a bee student in her class
The retirement home re-do looked great--except for the lack of signage
Kicky loved the vet-formula seaweed gummy treat
For a Monday, Mendelson spent a lot of time on his hair gel
The regulars on the 7/15 Chocolate Chip were a step ahead of the Market
Art and photos by Jane Hart
We interrupt our regular programming of goats and such to concentrate on the most stupendous, amazing, fantastic (fill in the blank) feat of the week: the pouring of the Refresh concrete, including a quick video (under 20 seconds) of the pouring of the Community Room floor.
Videos contributed by Beverly Aisenbrey
In the new Community Room: the inside scoop, by Ginny Bender
The outline of the new Terrace Room, by Ginny Bender and Joe Bruno
Photo by Ginny Bender
Photo by Ginny Bender
Photo by Joe Bruno
Photo by Philip Monteleoni
What ‘cha doin’ this fall? Henry Neale has an idea—and it’s more than a walk in the park. How about a walk of the Old Croton Aqueduct trail? All 42 miles of it. From the New Croton Dam in Cortlandt all the way to Bryant Park. No not in one day, but in reasonable lengths on several days during September and October, enjoying the fall weather. Highly doable. Highly enjoyable. Take on all of it—or just some parts.
Wanna go? Remember: You don’t need to do the whole thing. Companions for all or parts thereof are welcome. If you’re interested, get in on the planning now. Contact Henry either by phone (914-522-4609) or email (jhn10583@aol.com).
And now we take a break in all this frivolity for a bit of serious thought from Voltaire, one of the great historic masters of both wit and wisdom.
Think for yourself and let others enjoy the privilege of doing so, too.
Don’t think money does everything or you are going to end up doing everything for money.
No problem can withstand the assault of sustained thinking.
The opportunity for doing mischief is found a hundred times a day, and of good, once in a year.
Those who can make you believe absurdities, can make you commit atrocities.
If you want to know who controls you, look at who you are not allowed to criticize.
The longer we dwell on our misfortunes, the greater is their power to harm us.
Each player must accept the cards life deals him or her: but once they are in hand, he or she alone must decide how to play the cards in order to win the game.
It is dangerous to be right in matters on which the established authorities are wrong.
The mirror is a worthless invention. The only way to truly see yourself is in the reflection of someone else’s eyes.
Contributed by Cathie Campbell
As part of Kendal’s 20th Anniversary celebration, three special videos were created to honor our history, founding vision, and enduring community spirit. To see each, click on the buttons below. (Note: Ads may show up. They are beyond our control. When “skip” appears—usually on the bottom right, click on that. The ads are annoying, but don’t last long.)
A heartfelt conversation with our first CEO, Pat Doyle, and nine Founding Residents who helped shape Kendal from the get-go.
A look back at the planning, approval, and design of our community.
Reflections on the actual construction and opening of Kendal in May 2005.
As you might imagine, the Austro-Turkish Wars took place between what are now Austria and Turkey. This being between the 16th and 18th centuries, however, the official belligerents were the Hapsburg monarchy and the Ottoman Empire. Perhaps the most (in)famous skirmish of that conflict didn’t involve both sides, though.
What’s been called “history’s worst friendly fire incident” was officially known as the Battle of Karánsebes and took place in present-day Romania on the night of September 21, 1788. As the Austrian army consisted not only of Austrians but also of soldiers from modern-day Germany, Czech Republic, Poland, Serbia, and Croatia, communication wasn’t always smooth—especially when alcohol was involved.
Such was the case on this fateful night, during which different groups of Austrian soldiers were on opposite sides of the Timiş River. When fistfights and eventually gunfire broke out on one side of the river over a drunken dispute, troops in Karánsebes proper believed their foes had arrived and began shouting, “Turks! Turks!” The inebriated soldiers then ran toward their comrades to assist them but were mistaken for Turks, leading to further miscommunication and friendly fire. When the Turks did arrive two days later, they took Karánsebes with little resistance.
Source: historyfacts.com
Contributed by Jane Hart
Contributed by Barbara Wallach
Contributed by Barbara Bruno
Contributed by Barbara Bruno
90 hours in the tour bus gave the back-up singers time to audition new riff
Young Sally was enjoying her salad days
Angelina’s rain hat felt tight
Fitch’s astrologer said we’re in the age of Aquariums
Vinnie disliked poultry squawking behind her back
Art and photos by Jane Hart
Art and photo by Sheila Benedis
Led by Donna Nye, accompanied by Bill Rakower, a new Kendal tradition took the Gathering Room stage on August 20: The Roots and Rhythm singers offered Kendalites their first folk-song sing-along. May there by many more to come.
Photo by Harry Bloomfeld
Photos by Rich Dooley
As the summer draws to a close, photographers continued to send photos of our favorite denizens of the fields next door and by our door: goats and the (really, only one?) bunny.
The bunny leaves Alida for Fulton, by Lynn Brady
Goats seeking breakfast, lunch, and dinner by ye olde Rockwood sycamore, by Carolyn Reiss
Photo by Carolyn Reiss
Recently, a hardy band of Kendalites journeyed to South Salem to find out more about The Wolf Conservation Center. The Center’s mission is to advance the survival of wolves by inspiring a global community through education, advocacy, research, and recovery. According to their website, they are driven by our values of respect, community, and passion:
respect for wolves, their complex ecological role, the landscapes they shape, the people who care about them, and the people who live among them.
Community inspired by the pack. “We bring people together, we nurture, we educate, we aid, we protect, we organize, and we defend. We are always stronger together.”
passion for wolves, for the landscapes we share with them, and for the work of protecting them.
These folks look fairly normal, yes?
Photo by Carolyn Reiss
Photo by Carolyn Reiss
And then they decided to commune with the wolves . . . and howl . . .
Valerie and Tom Wolzien are trippin’ out. Way out. No, not that. They’re off to Australia, Singapore, and other exotic climes for more than a month! Yet Kendal stays on their minds. Tom’s still operating channel 970 . . . from up, up, up—39,000 feet over Europe— inside the plane. Easy peasy.
And they’ve promised pictures along the way. Here’s Singapore, which, like Kendal, is embracing construction.
And denizens of Australia’s Northern Territories—the real outback—where cattle outnumber people more than 1,000 to 1.
Ellen Ottstadt reports that, if the weather holds, this coming week workers will pour partial concrete in the community room and start framing the wall! She will send out the regular construction bulletin Friday, August 29. Meanwhile, a few pictures on refreshing’s progress—setting up to frame!
© Kendal on Hudson Residents Association 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022 all rights reserved. Please do not reproduce without permission.
Photographs of life at Kendal on Hudson are by residents.