Art and photo by Sheila Benedis
Art by Hart
A close-knit family, the Wylies liked to greet the sunrise together
The Starbucks lines were getting longer every morning
Elmore vowed to stop buying cheesy cars
Margery wished the neighbors would quit double-parking
If you saw a piece of sky missing, it was Woofy’s fault, but he says he’s sorry
Art and photos by Jane Hart
In and Around Kendal
Just returning from Hawaii, it looks just like old times, by Joe Bruno
The Moods and Majesty of the Hudson River
Photo by Susan Martin
Photo by Harry Bloomfeld
Ice flow, by Greg Lozier
Golden Reflection, by Philip Monteleoni
Sunset Reflection, by Greg Lozier
Out and About
Recently, Kendalites traveled to Yonkers to visit the Philipse Manor Hall, the city’s last connection to the 17th century. Built starting in the 1680s as a frontier trading post, by the 18th century it had become the central hub of the massive Philipse Manor, which spanned 52,000 acres of Westchester County. All on the trip declared it an excellent site to visit.
A retired professor of history was the group’s docent. Good choice!
Not only could the group view the decorated ceiling, but were told the details of how such a ceiling came to be.
Spelling Bee
In a field of 11 teams, Kendalites Carol Monteleoni, Mike Kornfield, and Philip Monteleoni—as team Ten Thousand Words—battled word by word, letter by letter, for the championship of the Irvington Spelling Bee. Words like scyntilla, efflorescence, quixotic, and pulchritude. They made it to the sudden-death final round with three other teams. One by one the others fell. The final two: Ten Thousand Words vs Reservoir Dogs. They fought it out until the word list was exhausted. Gone. Finished. The Bee leader scrounged for more words, finally coming up with the last one: kakistocracy: “government by the least suitable or competent citizens of a state.” And the Ten Thousand Words team won! Our heroes left the stage victorious, with Kendal pride justifiably intact. You could say that got an A in Bee.
And if you’d like to see The Hudson Independent article on the Bee, click here.
The KoH Team
The First Round (yes, there were costumed teams—here you see the Spell-quins) Photo by Amanda Slattery
The Final Round: Ten Thousand Words vs Reservoir Dogs—the tension is at its peak! Photo by Ed Lannert
And the winners are: Ten Thousand Words! And the audience jumps to its feet to applause. (Please note the charming bee-bedecked children who served as helpers in distributing prizes.) Photos by Amanda Slattery.
Kendal’s Pride and Joy—and the word that took them over the top (also, a young lady clearly enthusiastic to meet real celebrities). Photo by Ed Lannert
The (Second) Blizzard of '26
So . . . how’s the Winter of ‘26 shaping up snow-wise in Sleepy Hollow?
January: 15”
February: 20.1”
Let’s hope March is not competitive-minded.
Tne February Blizzard of ‘26
And Thus It Begins
February 22, by Carolyn Reiss
Photo by Carolyn Reiss
View from my window—by Joe Bruno
Will it never end? Photo by Amanda Slattery
And the Results . . .
Photo by Alice Clague
A strange snow-white buffalo appeared on Barbara Kornfield’s patio. He seemed happy to stay where he was. Photo by Barbara Kornfield.
Photo by Alice Clague
Photo by Carolyn Reiss
Dusk, by Edward Kasinec
The Kendal Crew Has the Situation in Hand
Monday-night dinner: The staff may be short-handed, but they are great problem-solvers, by Joe Bruno
And, Anyway, Who Cares?
Nothin’ beats a good cup of coffee, by Joe Bruno
The Road to Art Knowledge . . . Without the Road
Art Show
The Winter Art Show formally opened on Wednesday, February 25, in the hallways of Robert Fulton. But the planning and organizing had started well beforehand. A photo story of some of those who made it all happen.
The Show Team interfaces with the artists: they make announcements, receive artwork, return artwork, ensuring labels are correct. They make sure that all pieces are accounted for
Framing takes patience
Vitrine curators select the small work and arrange it
Early on the designer makes posters, flyers and invites, as well as show signage
Labelers put labels on the final installation
Getting it j-u-u-ust right: The curators select the pieces for the show, install the pieces, and sometimes tweak the frames if they are not hanging properly
Hospitality arranges the opening setup with maintenance, orders wine, and plans the food with dining
Now It’s Time to Party
Strolling by the art—and commenting on it
The art of enjoying oneself
Celebrating the artist alone with the art
Photos by Carolyn Reiss
Weekly Construction Report
The Riverview Conference Room
Entrance to the New Community Room—Level C
From the office of Ellen Ottstadt
I Never Knew That
New York City Once Had Miles of Hidden Underground Mail Tubes
In October 1897, construction of a high-speed network designed to service an ever-expanding city was underway beneath the streets of Manhattan. No, it wasn’t the subway; that would take a few more years. This was a pneumatic tube mail system, developed using engineering principles that dated back more than two centuries and had already been put to the test with working models in London, Paris, and Philadelphia.
Built by the Tubular Dispatch Company and leased to the US Post Office Department, the New York City system was powered by rotary blowers and air compressors that shot steel mail-carrying canisters through cast-iron tubes at speeds of approximately 30 mph. The tubes were largely installed between 4 and 6 feet underground, with a noticeable outlier following the length of the Brooklyn Bridge, while the canisters they supported measured approximately 2 feet long by 8 inches in diameter. The network eventually connected 23 post offices through 27 miles of tubing, its early success paving the way for systems in Boston, Chicago, and St. Louis.
As one might suspect, a canister would occasionally get stuck, shutting down that particular pathway until it could physically be removed. But a bigger problem was the exorbitant costs that came with the endeavor, an issue that became more pronounced as the network continued circulating the same volume of mail even as the need for a larger, faster system increased with the growing population.
Postmaster General Arthur Summerfield finally put the kibosh on New York City’s mail tubes in late 1953, reasoning that the addition of two trucks would be just as effective and far cheaper to maintain, and this once-futuristic service was left to become a hallmark of the city’s past.
For Your Funny Bone
Contributed by both Barbara Wallach and Joe Bruno
Contributed by simply too many people to name . . .
Hope IV, by Sheila Benedis
Art and photo by Sheila Benedis
Art by Hart
Lila loved goldfish, except for their metallic aftertaste
Aunt Lulu thought the baby was a little bit clingy
Luckily neither of the Kurkles had car keys
The Blue Plate Special was not what any of the family remembered
Pibble felt invincible in his superhero suit
Art and photos by Jane Hart
In and Around Kendal
Hanging the Winter Art Show Begins: Step One
Reflections
Photo by Philip Monteleoni
A Basic Approach. But a Kendal Value?
Photo by Ed Lannert
Under the Big Beech Tree
Photo by Carolyn Reiss
A Familiar Kendal Scene: Friends in Conversation
Photo by Ruth Dinowitz
Unexpected Guests
Photo by Carolyn Reiss
Another Beautiful Sunset
Photo by Greg Lozier
Out and About
Another Win for the Kendal Team!
Amanda Slattery’s Trivia Quiz team—this time rotating in to the challenge teammates Mike and Barbara Kornfield—racked up another win at the Ambleside Pub! Yay and Congratulations! (Laurel wreaths to be distributed at future date.)
Where in the World Is Pat McGrath?
Answer: Sanibel Island—where chances are good he has not heard blizzard warnings.
Spoonbills on the Golf Course
Sunset over the Gulf of . . .
Photos by Pat McGrath
For Your Viewing (and Noshing) Pleasure
Weekly Construction Report
NEW RESIDENTS CARE CENTER
HALLWAY
ENTRANCE
BATHROOM
NEW TERRACE ROOM
From the Office of Ellen Ottstadt
Join in the Annual Appeal
I Never Knew That
Jackie Robinson Was Honorably Discharged from the Army after Refusing to Move to the Back of a Segregated Bus
Five years before he broke the color barrier in Major League Baseball, Jackie Robinson was drafted into the military. He received his notice on April 3, 1942, just a few months after the attack on Pearl Harbor propelled the United States into World War II. He joined an all-Black unit stationed at Fort Riley, Kansas, and was later transferred to Fort Hood, Texas. There, racial segregation was strictly enforced despite Executive Order 8802, which was issued by President Franklin D. Roosevelt to ban discriminatory practices in federal agencies and organizations contributing to the war effort.
This ban was put to the test on July 6, 1944, when Robinson refused to move to the back of a bus in Fort Hood. He faced six charges at a subsequent court-martial, which he believed was racially motivated. In his autobiography, Robinson wrote that his lawyer “summed up the case beautifully by telling the board that this was not a case involving any violation of the Articles of War, or even of military tradition, but simply a situation in which a few individuals sought to vent their bigotry on a Negro they considered ‘uppity’ because he had the audacity to exercise rights that belonged to him as an American and a soldier.”
The nine combat officers who comprised the court acquitted Robinson of all charges. The ballplayer received an honorable discharge four months later.
Source: Michael Nordine, historyfacts.com
Contributed by Jane Hart
