Stories by Lisa

Lisa Saunders

Appeared in Outlook, October 31, 2006 Vol 39 Issue 4 and the Times Herald-Record

DANGER. At least that’s what I think the faded sign said posted on a tree in Harriman State Park. Since the old abandoned iron mines are “off limits,” I knew something interesting lie ahead.

“This has to be the path to Bradley mine,” I told my husband Jim. A group of hikers we met along the road pointed to a path in this general direction. They told us it was the Silver Mine, where Captain Kidd reportedly hid his treasure, but author Edward J. Lenik in his guidebook, “Iron Mine Trails,” by published in 1986 by New York-New Jersey Trail Conference, indicated this was the Bradley Mine spot.

Just finding this rocky path to whichever mine lay ahead took some doing. In the warmer months, when this particular road is open to cars, I’d driven by this spot many times trying to find where Lenik writes, “An old road, 400 feet in length, rises steeply up the hillside heading in a northeasterly direction to the mines entrance.”

There was no road that my untrained eye can see, yet my cousin visiting from Virginia had no trouble finding Bradley Mine on his own with a trail map. “It’s behind a big rock on the right,” he said.

Jim and I had forgotten to clock the mileage when we drove past this area but we did see a huge boulder and the enthusiastic hikers pointing to the area, telling us that we would find a real cave behind it. “It’s very rocky, be careful,” an elderly woman with a cane advised.

“Well,” I thought, “if she can do it, so can we.” So up the steep incline we trekked. “I see something ahead,” I yelled down to Jim who was straggling behind. We walked through a rocky, moss-lined trench. Then there it was--a real cave. Beyond the well-lit entrance was a dark cavern. Thinking how Tom Sawyer and Becky Thatcher got lost, almost forever, in a dark Missouri cave made me wish we’d brought a flashlight.

According to Lenik, the mine was operated extensively during the Civil War. He wrote "Trail historian William J. Myles indicates that the mine was named for a man named Bradley who opened iron mines on the land" sometime during the Revolutionary War.

There was water pooled on the cave floor and dripping from the entrance and through a shaft cut in the ceiling. But there was a muddy path along the edge where we could walk inside. As our eyes adjusted, I could see the back of the cave, giving me hope that we would be home by supper. Our dentist would be spared the gruesome task of identifying us by our dental records next spring.

Visitors have marked the walls with messages, and unfortunately, there is leftover trash from partying. While Jim clicked away with his camera, I broke the eerie silence by bouncing echoes off the walls with my voice. After looking around for about 20 minutes, we returned to the safety of the open air, and yes, made it home in time for dinner.

Having conquered Bradley Mine, next on my list is the Spanish Silver Mine. Not only is Kidd’s treasure waiting for me, but I might also find Spanish silver. According to Lenik, R.H. Torry, a founder of the New York-New Jersey Trail Conference, reported that “in 1735, a ship with a Spanish crew sailed up the Hudson River and landed at what is now Jones Point. They made several trips to a mine on Black Mountain and carried out heavy sacks, once boasting to riverside tavern patrons that they were carrying silver. On their final journey to the mine, one of the Spanish crew members disappeared, while the others returned to their ship, never to be seen in the area again. Later, the body of the lost Spanish miner was found by local people in a cabin in the mountain.”

To learn more about the iron mines and how to find them, contact the New York-New Jersey Trail Conference, Inc by calling 201-512-9348 or visit www.nynjtc.org. To see mine photos visit www.ironminers.com

The following appeared in “Rockland County Times” and “The Journal News”

“A Tale of Two Dogs and a Shelter” by Lisa Saunders

“Mom, can I have a dog? I promise I’ll take care of it.”

I cringed. After all these years, why couldn't our teenage daughter Jackie just take “No” as the final answer? There were just too many reasons why she couldn’t have a dog. Not only did I know who really ends up walking it in the pouring rain, but I also had a daughter, Elizabeth, who was quadriplegic from cerebral palsy. She is unable to protect herself against a frisky animal. We briefly owned a cat that clawed her face.

Finally, one New Year’s Eve about five years ago, I caved in—but only a little. Perhaps there was a perfect dog out there. One that would not only be good company for Elizabeth when she was propped up on the couch, but also one that would serve as a good watch dog. I said, “You can have a dog if God himself brings one to our door.” My husband Jim and Jackie decided that if that day should come, they would name the dog Riley.

Lo and behold, a few weeks later, a big brown female puppy, shivering cold, wet and dirty, tried to jump into our car as we were leaving to go out with friends. “God really does answer prayers!” Jackie said.

Stunned, I knew Jim and I had to honor our pledge. But first, I ran “found” ads, put up posters, and called the police. Reporting her to the Hi-Tor Animal Care Center in Pomona, Donald, the Assistant Director, said that an overwhelmed owner had probably dumped her. Donald gave me a free dog training video, a few chew sticks, and some sound puppy raising advice.

Jackie could not name the puppy Riley since she was female, so she called her Gabrielle—Gabby for short.

Gabby was cute and friendly in public, but at home, she was a terror. Now I was to become the overwhelmed.

All my fears of owning a puppy were realized. Not only did Gabby urinate all over our new wall to wall carpets and chew on everything, she was a nipper. She’d playfully attack all passing ankles and grab Elizabeth’s feet dangling over the couch with her razor sharp teeth. Many nights I lay awake wondering where she was urinating, and worried she'd hurt Elizabeth.

A friend advised, “A dog is not like a child—you can turn her in.” Yet how could I break my promise to Jackie? Perhaps she’d agree to exchange the dog for an older, calmer one.

Moments after that solution occurred to me, Jackie started screaming from the laundry room, “Dad, get Gabby off me! She’s attacking my feet again.”

That’s it. Without saying a word, I picked up the phone and dialed Donald at the shelter.

“Help! The puppy we took in a month ago is driving us crazy. Can you find her another home?”

“Puppies are easy, I can find her a home within a week.”

“Do you have an older, calmer dog? I have a handicapped child, so please don’t lie to me.”

“As a matter of fact, I have a big, fat, lazy male Lab, who wants nothing more than to lie on a couch all day. He’s not only a couch potato, he’s the whole sack.”

“Perfect! What’s his name?”

“Riley.”

“Riley! You’re kidding me! Hold on to him. We’ll be right in!”

Jackie felt sad on the trip to the shelter with Gabby on her lap, yet awed by the name of the dog we would be bring home. “Mom, that’s got to be a sign.”

She was right. And it was a good sign.

Riley is a perfect fit. He licked Elizabeth, steped carefully around her, and kept her company. Lying on the couch is indeed his specialty. If he’s feeling energetic, he follows us around but doesn’t nip if we’re too busy to pet him. And Riley is better than any alarm system. He barks menacingly at all outsiders within a quarter mile radius, but wags his tail in welcome when he realizes they are our guests. But he is a little too diligent. If I could just get him to believe me at 5:00 am that we want the garbage men to steal our garbage!

Not only did Riley come fully neutered with up to date shots, he is completely housebroken. It is a pleasure to walk my carpet-friendly couch potato--even in the pouring rain.

I later heard from Donald that Gabby’s new family broke her nipping habit after following the advice of an animal behaviorist at the shelter. According to Donald, Gabby was making their home as happy as Riley was making ours. And thanks to Gabby, God did bring Riley to our door.

Endnote: Jackie has since gone off to college and Elizabeth has gone off to Heaven. Now its Riley who keeps me and my husband company on the couch!

Elizabeth Saunders at four with her mother

The silent virus that silenced Elizabeth

By Lisa Saunders
For the Times Herald-Record
October 18, 2006 http://www.recordonline.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20061018/LIFE/610180313&emailAFriend=1

The moment Elizabeth was born, I felt a stab of fear. I knew there was something very wrong. My immediate thought was "Her head looks so small — so deformed."

The neonatologist entered my hospital room and declared, "Your daughter has profound microcephaly — her brain is very small with calcium deposits throughout. If she lives, she will never roll over, sit up, or feed herself."

He concluded that Elizabeth's birth defects were caused by congenital cytomegalovirus (CMV) — a virus that may have no symptoms for the mother, known as a "silent virus," or it may present itself with mild to severe coldlike symptoms to a mother during pregnancy.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention says that about one in 150 children is born with CMV infection and approximately one in 750 is born with or develops permanent disabilities because of CMV.

The infection in healthy children and adults does little harm, but it is devastating to the unborn.

How and why did I catch this virus that I had barely heard of? I read the CMV literature. It stated that women who care for young children in a close setting are at a higher risk for catching it, as preschoolers are the majority of carriers.

While I was pregnant with Elizabeth, I not only had a toddler of my own, but also ran a licensed daycare center in my home and cared for infants in Sunday school. I felt sick at what my lack of knowledge had done to my little girl. In milder cases, children with congenital CMV may lose hearing or struggle with learning disabilities later in life. But Elizabeth's case was not a mild one.

Fifteen years later, I awoke feeling so proud on Elizabeth's 16th birthday. She had fought hard to stay with us. Weighing only 50 pounds, she looked funny to strangers as a result of her small head and big adult teeth, but she was lovely to us with her long, thick brown hair, large blue eyes and soul-capturing smile. Although Elizabeth was still in diapers, and could not speak or hold up her head, she was still a very happy little girl, with a love of adventures — long car rides being one of her favorites. She especially loved going to school and being surrounded by people, paying no mind to the stares of other children who approached her in public.

Less than two months after she turned 16, I dropped Elizabeth off at school. Strapping her into her wheelchair, I held her face in my hands, kissed her cheek, and said, "Now be a good girl today." She smiled as she heard her teacher say what she said every time, "Elizabeth is always a good girl!" With that, I left.

At the end of the day, I got the call I had always feared.

"Mrs. Saunders, Elizabeth had a seizure and she's not breathing. We called 911."

While holding Elizabeth on his lap, my husband looked down into her partially open, lifeless eyes and cried, "No one is ever going to look at me again the way Elizabeth did." I knew he was right. No one adored us as Elizabeth did.

It has been several months since we lost our little girl. At times I miss her so much I can barely breathe. Yet at other times, I feel happy for her — never again will I see that look of terror in her eyes as a seizure begins and she can't catch her breath. Never again will she be cold or sick. She is finally free. And for the remainder of my days Elizabeth will be forever "Sweet Sixteen."

Today, my sorrow is gradually being replaced by a passion to prevent others from going through what Elizabeth did. I have returned to the CMV research and literature. There is still no vaccine against this cruel virus, which is life-threatening, not only to unborn babies but also to people with a compromised immune system (those receiving chemotherapy or organ transplants, or who are HIV-infected, for example).

But there are steps, according to the CDC, that women can take to reduce the risk of infection during pregnancy:

s Do not kiss young children under the age of 5 or 6 on the mouth or cheek. Instead, kiss them on the head or give them a big hug.

s Do not share food, drinks or utensils with young children.

s Wash hands often with soap and water, especially after changing diapers.

For more information, visit www.cdc.gov/cmv.

Lisa Saunders of Suffern is a freelance writer (www.authorlisasaunders.com). She can be reached at saundersbooks@aol.com.

"Pregnant Women: Learn Risk of CMV"

Lisa Saunders

Published in The Journal News/Gannett Publication 1/28/07

Did you know that when a pregnant woman kisses a young child on the cheek, she is risking mental retardation and hearing loss for her unborn child? That daycare workers are also putting their unborn children at risk? Most people don't, and when I was pregnant with my daughter Elizabeth, I didn't know either. Through my activities, I caught cytomegalovirus (CMV) and passed it along to her. She was born with a severely damaged brain. She died last year at the age of 16 during a seizure.

Potentially thousands of children a year could be spared life-threatening disabilities if pregnant women were simply warned to avoid the bodily fluids of young children. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), 1 in 750 babies are permanently disabled by congenital CMV. CMV is more common than Down syndrome and is the leading viral cause of mental retardation and hearing loss.

Dr. Schmid of the CDC wrote to me: "The overwhelming majority of cases are not evident at the time of birth...the development of symptoms, such as neurosensory hearing loss and mental retardation, may not manifest for a year or longer."

The CDC recommends that pregnant women avoid kissing young children on the mouth or cheek, sharing food, towels or utensils with them, and frequent hand-washing—especially after diaper changes. One mother wrote to me that had she been warned about congenital CMV, “I would have been insane about washing my hands, carrying around hand sanitizer 100 % of the time.”

Information about CMV can be found on the CDC Web site at http://www.cdc.gov/cmv/ where a brochure on CMV in both Spanish and English can be downloaded.

Mississippi Marathon Man: Why a father paddled 18 sleepless days and nights down the Mississippi River to break the Guinness World Record. by Lisa Saunders

Author's note: Clark Eid, my friend and father of a daughter with Rett Syndrome (a devastating neurological disease), tried breaking the world time record twice in order to draw attention to his daughter's disease. In 2006, Guinness World Records acknowledged that his time was authentic and world record breaking. My story about Clark Eid and Rett Syndrome has been published in The Rockland County Times, June 15-June 21, 2006, in the Rockland County College newspaper in August 2006 and the Rockland County Magazine in Sept of 2006.

It was to be the longest canoe/kayak marathon event in history—paddlers competing non-stop over 2,300 miles down the entire Mississippi River. Racing day and night from the icy waters of northern Minnesota to the steamy Gulf of Mexico requires extreme physical and mental endurance. For weeks, pairs of athletes would take turns sleeping in their cramped boats while negotiating rapids, rough waves and heavy fog. The modern day voyagers were competing not only against each other and the Guinness world time record, but against a deadly progressive neurological disease—Rett Syndrome.

Racer and co-organizer of The Great Mississippi River Race for Rett Syndrome, May 2001, Clark Eid, PhD, of New City, is a research scientist whose little girl Amanda suffers from Rett Syndrome. The disease affects thousands of girls, causing autism, seizures, loss of muscle control and the ability to walk. When doctors pronounced Amanda’s diagnosis in 1998, they had nothing to offer her and research was almost at a standstill. No known cause had been found and no new treatments were emerging. Research, Eid knew, was Amanda’s only hope. He had to do something to grab international attention and raise funds for the scientific community.

Eid found his inspiration on a family outing in the summer of 1999. When he carried Amanda into the trickling headwaters of the Mississippi to let her dip her toes into the current, she giggled at the sensation, lifting Eid’s heavy heart. “Standing by the water, I found my hopes and dreams for Amanda mixing with thoughts of the river,” said Eid. “Research pathways are like the course of the river, difficult and full of obstacles and challenges." Eid, in hopes of inspiring scientists to battle Rett, determined to paddle the entire Mississippi River in an epic, non-stop extreme charity event.

Eid, an adventurer by nature, also hoped to beat the previous Guinness World Record Mississippi canoeing time of 23 day set in 1989. His flagship for the event was a high-tech kayak he hand-built in his basement, enduring sleepless nights and drinking gallons of coffee to complete. He covered it with a rose vine mural made from over 5,000 pieces of exotic woods and named it the Double Helix. Eid arranged the rose vines to mimic DNA, encoding the message “Amanda's Dreamkeeper.” The discoverers of DNA's double helix, Nobel Laureates Watson and Crick, signed the craft just below deck fittings made of woods from Jacque Cousteau’s Calypso and from La Amistad.

Eid and his canoeing partner Kurt Zimmermann knew the competition would be fierce. Among other eager competitors, they would be racing against canoeing legend Verlen Kruger and Bob Bradford. Kruger set the paddling time for the Mississippi in 1984 and was anxious to reclaim his standing that was broken in 1989 by only 29 minutes.

At 6 am on May 5, 2001, five teams of resolute paddlers gathered with their road crews on Lake Itasca, Minnesota to begin the non-stop race down the Mississippi. They were prepared to face all sorts of obstacles to break records, but they were not prepared for another record that was in the making. Foul weather, combined with the unusually high river flow rates, created some of the worst flooding in the Mississippi’s history.

The racers paddled through dangerous lightning and rain storms, fierce winds, harrowing rapids, floating debris, and thick fog. Every member of the race experienced some physical trauma and two required hospitalization. Three teams were forced to withdraw. Frustrated by delays from impassable locks and being forced off the river by a sheriff’s helicopter, Clark made up for lost time by forgoing sleep to paddle--sometimes up to 40 hours straight.

"Closer to New Orleans we had to be careful of boat traffic. Around 2:00 a.m.,” Eid remembers, “while my partner was sleeping, I looked up in the fog to see the front lights of a barge right on top of us. I had to paddle for our lives to avoid being sucked under the front."

The world's longest distance canoe race record was broken when the two remaining teams emerged in the Gulf of Mexico. But the coveted time record remained intact. On May 29, Team Kruger crossed the finish line first, followed two days later by Eid and Zimmerman. Kruger’s time was 24 days, behind his previous record of 23 days.

Disappointed by his time, Eid knew that in order to keep Rett on the public’s mind he needed to set a world record that could not be easily broken. So two years later, with many lessons learned and Kruger as race advisor, on May 10, 2003, Eid and Bob Bradford launched their canoe in The Mississippi Challenge for Rett Syndrome and Leukodystrophy in another attempt to beat the clock. Leukodystrophy, also a serious neurological disease, affected Bob's family. Unlike the first race, the paddlers now faced record low water conditions, making the attempt tougher.

This time Eid pushed himself even more to the extreme, suffering lengthy hallucinations which, he admits, “made me fear I wouldn't know the difference between a calculated risk and doing something really stupid." But this time, the calculated risks, along with the support of their road crew and several families cheering them on, Eid and Bob emerged in the Gulf of Mexico in only18 days, 4 hours and 51 minutes --shattering the previous world record by over 5 days!

In May of 2006, Guinness World Records confirmed that Clark’s paddling time was authentic, declaring him an official world record holder in the cause of Rett Syndrome. “It will be almost humanly impossible to break that record!!” exclaims Mary Potter, Amanda’s mother and co-organizer of the Rett races.

Having accomplished this amazing feat, Eid and Potter now challenge the scientific community: “We recognize that your research holds the key to unlock our children’s bonds. We need your help, and we went the extra 2,348 miles to get it. We ask you to make the same effort--to do what was once thought impossible—to find a cure!"

End note: For more information about the Mississippi River races and Rett Syndrome, please see Potter and Eid’s race websites at www.mississippichallenge.org or www.dreamkeeper.org

“As the Crowe Flies”

Lisa Saunders

Appeared in Rockland Magazine, September 2006

Actor Russell Crowe has joined the stars living in Nyack, renting a secluded home just four blocks up from Broadway and Main, while shooting his latest film, Tenderness. The Oscar-winning star (Gladiator, A Beautiful Mind) supposedly spent a whopping $100,000 on the summer rental.

Crowe reportedly strolls along Nyack’s Broadway and into Pickwick Books. “I don’t watch movies,” said the owner, “so I wouldn’t even know what he looks like.”

But you don’t have to watch movies to see the Cinderella Man himself. Crowe’s band, 30 Odd Foot of Grunts, plans to perform at Vertigo soon. “I just spoke to him today,” said owner Leslie McGettigan. “He came in to discuss the date of his next performance.” McGettigan added, “Crowe loves living in Nyack. It is his third time back. He was here the other day with his two mates.”

Supporting reports of recent weight gain, Crowe converted his three-car Nyack garage into a state-of-the-art gym to get in shape. Although Tenderness takes place primarily in New York City, filming took place all over the Lower Hudson region, including scenes shot at Rockland Lake (parking lot #4), Harriman State Park woods near Lake Sebago, and the Red Apple Rest in Tuxedo. The movie focuses on the story of Detective Cristofuoro, played by Crowe, who investigates the past of a violent teenage boy who becomes involved with a runaway.

NOT AN ANGEL
by
Lisa Saunders

Mrs. Walker was not an angel. But she could have been.

It was Jim’s and my first winter together as husband and wife. It began snowing heavily late one afternoon. I was to pick Jim up in front of an ice cream parlor near Maryland University where he was a graduate student. I couldn't wait to get him so we could sit warm and cuddled in our tiny basement apartment.

But when I reached the main road, the snow came down faster and more furious than ever. My wipers couldn't keep up with it. My station wagon began fishtailing as I tried to creep up the hill. I grew terrified and prayed I wouldn't hit anybody. Moving forward was simply going to be impossible, so I turned off into a neighborhood hoping to use someone's phone to call the ice cream parlor. Driving cautiously past several dark homes, I thought of my poor beloved standing out in the snow, growing cold and worried about me.

Eventually I spotted a lighted house with a man inside. I knocked on the door. But the man wouldn't answer it! Perhaps the man just couldn't hear me. But I doubted it. I felt so alone. “People can be so mean,” I thought as I walked next door to try again.

This time I was not disappointed. An old woman answered the door. “Can I help you?” she asked kindly, seemingly unafraid of me.

“I do need help,” I managed to say before I burst into tears.

After I explained to her about my worried, snow-covered husband, and about the uncaring man next door, she smiled and said, “Oh you poor thing. You can come in and use my phone. And you needn't feel bad about my neighbor, for you see, he really didn't hear you – he's deaf.” After letting me in and introducing herself as Mrs. Walker, the old lady confessed, “I can't see out of one eye and I'm legally blind in my other one, but I can still make a pot of tea. Would you like some while you wait for your husband?”

“Yes, please,” I said gladly, grateful that she was making me feel so welcome. I grew concerned, however, when I called the ice cream parlor and was told there was no one by Jim's description waiting in front. What next?

Since I couldn't go anywhere, I decided to stay put and keep phoning the ice cream parlor and our home. I fantasized about how desperately anxious Jim must be by now and our joyous reunion when he discovered I was still alive.

Having tea with Mrs. Walker couldn't have been cozier. We sat in her dimly lit dining room and watched the snow fall in the growing darkness. Mrs. Walker was not an angel in the Heavenly sense, but she seemed one to me. She was very interested to hear all about Jim and me and thought it wonderful that we were just starting our lives together.

Eventually Mrs. Walker told me about herself. She was over eighty years old and had recently lost her husband of over fifty years. She lived with her daughter and son-in-law who were out that evening.

I listened to many lovely stories about Mrs. Walker's husband and how good he was to her. He took care of everything so she'd have as few worries as possible. But when he discovered he was dying, he sat her down and taught her how to balance the check book. Mrs. Walker cried at the memory – and so did I. I thought, “What a lovely couple they were. That's just how Jim and I will be; never cross but always kind to one another.”

I was in for a rude awakening, however, when I finally did get through to Jim at our apartment. “Where have you been!” he shouted. “I've been searching the roads for you on foot and was just about to call the police!”

Jim yelled at me! He had never been angry with me before! And how embarrassing to be yelled at while that nice old lady was looking on.

I decided to pretend all was well in front of Mrs. Walker so I cheerfully told Jim my story and gave him directions to Mrs. Walker's house. Upon hanging up, Mrs. Walker asked me how he was. When I tried to answer, my happy front disintegrated, and I began to cry.

When I told Mrs. Walker how mean Jim had been, she put her arms around me. “There, there, Dear. Everything will be all right. He was just worried, that's all. My husband could yell like that too when he got upset. Jim will be in a much better mood when he gets here, you'll see.”

Her understanding comforted me and I dried my tears. We had more tea and heartwarming conversations while waiting for Jim. When he finally arrived, he had calmed down and was happy to see me.

When Jim and I moved to another town and became busy with Jacqueline and Elizabeth, I lost touch with Mrs. Walker. Ten years after our meeting on that snowy night, I saw a special on T.V. about angels. Their help in dire circumstances made think of Mrs. Walker again. I couldn't get her out of my mind. I had to find out what happened to her. I knew she must surely be gone by now, after all, she'd be over ninety.

But when I dialed her number, I was thrilled to learn that Mrs. Walker was still alive. Her daughter Margaret said that Mrs. Walker was totally blind, practically deaf, and bedridden, but she promised to tell her that I called. We made arrangements for me to visit her a week later. From the way Margaret spoke of her mother's failing health, I was afraid that Mrs. Walker wouldn't last that long.

When I arrived for my visit, Margaret asked me to wait in the foyer while she woke up her mother. I heard Margaret shout, “Wake up Mother, Lisa is here.”

“Oh good,” Mrs. Walker replied faintly.

“Do you want me to help you sit up?” Margaret asked.

“Yes, please. Is Lisa in my room now?”

“No, she's waiting in the foyer until you get ready.”

“I'm glad. I wouldn't want her to see me like this.”

Margaret finally motioned for me to come in. And there, in all her dignity, sat the thin and aged Mrs. Walker, wrapped in a shawl.

“Hello, Mrs. Walker,” I said loudly. I took her hand and bent to kiss her cool, wrinkled forehead.

“Oh hello, Lisa!” she replied beaming. She looked in my direction but was unable to see how delighted I was to see her.

Mrs. Walker grasped my hand with both of hers. “You don't know how much it means to me for you to come for a visit.”

“I'm happy that you are still alive so I could. I'll never forget your kindness and how much fun we had together on that snowy night long ago.”

“Well, I wish I weren't still alive – I'm ready to go. But I'm glad to be around to have you come here today. We really made a connection that night, didn't we?”

“Yes,” I replied fondly, “we really did.”

The rest of our conversation was spent reminiscing about the snow storm and how happy we were to have met. Mrs. Walker couldn't stop telling me how happy she was that I had remembered her. But she couldn't have been half as thrilled as I was for the chance to see her and thank her once more before she died. As I drove away, I imagined the reward that lay waiting for her when she did finally reach Heaven.

Mrs. Walker died about a month later.

Ever True: A Union Private and His Wife
by
Lisa Saunders

Published in Battlefienld Journal (Aug 04) and Outlook Student Press (Nov 06)

It all started when my mother informed me that my great-great grandparents’ Civil War letters, which she had never read, were in her attic.

“In your attic!” Within moments I was crawling on my hands and knees through the tiny door that led to a cramped, stuffy section of their attic. I found the letters jammed in a small wooden box marked "Queen Bon Bons." I took them outside into the daylight and began to read. I carefully unfolded the stiff yellowed paper, thrilled that I was actually touching a letter written during the Civil War. This particular note was written by Charles to his wife Nancy. I gently smoothed it flat on the table, afraid I would tear it. The handwriting was strange, the ink somewhat faded and difficult to read. Suddenly there was a word I recognized instantly - Abe!

"We have Seward down here about every other day, and sometimes he fetches Old Abe with him, and [he] looks about like any old farmer." I couldn't believe it. Charles in Lincoln's company!

Among the letters was Nancy's obituary. "MRS. McDOWELL IS DEAD - SHOOK HANDS WITH LINCOLN. With the death of Mrs. Nancy Wager McDowell ... the town of Sodus probably loses the distinction of having a resident who could boast of having shaken hands and talked with the martyred Lincoln…. She was married in 1860 to Charles McDowell, a native of Canada, who came to America when a young man. Mr. McDowell was a member of the Ninth New York Heavy Artillery in the Union Army, and it was while stationed near Washington that his wife had an opportunity to speak with the President. Mrs. McDowell passed nearly a year in that vicinity, and many were the pies she baked for the soldiers stationed at the capital. Typhoid Fever caused her to return to Alton to the home of her parents…"

I remember hearing as a child that Nancy survived Charles by many years and grew to be an irritable old woman, making her daughter-in-law's life miserable. Nancy spent her last years rocking in her chair and looking out the living room window. One day she took a nap in that chair and never woke up. When I visited Charles's son, aged and still living in the home Charles had built after the War, I used to stare at Nancy's rocker stored in the barn attic, terrified that her ghost would start it rocking again.

I took the collection of about 150 letters home to Maryland and began an exciting ten-year adventure. Once I grew accustomed to his old-fashioned handwriting and nearly punctuation-free sentences, I traveled back over 130 years and joined Charles in heart and mind. I felt his loneliness, his boredom, his fear. I laughed when he laughed. I hurt over his deep longing for his wife and the home and family he left behind in Canada.

Charles served under William Seward, Jr., son of Lincoln's Secretary of State. While Charles and his comrades were stationed in one or another of the forts defending Washington DC, the New York Ninth became known as "Seward's Pets." Nancy came to live with him for a year. She ran a pie business, selling them to soldiers—though it was against the edict that only sutlers could sell pies to the troops.

The thrill of the adventure came to an abrupt end when Nancy contracted typhoid fever and Charles's regiment was sent to the front, joining Grant's Army of the Potomac and proceeding on to the disaster at Cold Harbor. From then on, bullets and disease were his constant enemies. I was shocked to read of the desertions, hangings, amputations, prostitution, and even theft and murder among the Union troops.

I was completely immersed in Nancy's anxious fears for Charles. She hoped there hadn't been a "ball made to kill" him. She hoped he wouldn't get too close to Southern women when he occupied their homes. She longed for him to return to her-- even if only for a short furlough. She wrote that she would rather be dead than continue living the way they were. I pondered the final years of her life spent rocking in her chair looking out the window. Perhaps she was waiting for death so Charles could come for her once more.

There was a story in those letters and I felt compelled to bring it to light. To understand the context of their correspondence I spent several years visiting overgrown forts and battlefields. I also scoured old books and the National Archives. "Ever True" was Charles' customary way of signing his letters. I chose Ever True as the title for my book because it holds a double meaning: the love that is ever true between Charles and Nancy, and their ever-true devotion to their country despite war's infidelities, scandals, and the ever-present threat of death.

The Nameless Dead

Lisa Saunders

First appeared in Outlook Student Press (Vol.39 Issue 2 Sep. 16, 2006)

Did you know that Brucker Hall on the Rockland Community College (RCC) campus was once a workhouse hosting the kind of misery read about in novels like Oliver Twist? That the residents covered themselves in newspapers on their bare bunks? That many who died there are buried with nameless markers, or no marker at all, right there on campus?

Unlike the dignified entrance into the veteran’s cemetery, also located on the campus, the sign posted beside Rockland County Cemetery is small and rust-streaked.

There are only a few markers to direct us to the dead, some homemade with stick-on letters and several concrete posts in rows etched with roman numerals. But there is one strikingly prominent marker—a large monument that reveals the grinding poverty suffered by those interred there. It reads:

In memory of

Hope Grace Rockland
Let No Child Be Forgotten
Children of all ages 1959-1992

Unknown Baby - June 28, 1967

Also listed on the stone are death dates for over 80 children.

Who was Hope Grace Rockland? Who was the “Unknown Baby?” Zipora Reitman, Director of Communications at RCC, remembered reading about Hope Grace Rockland in the Journal News. She was the highly publicized abandoned 6 ½ pound baby found in a deli garbage can on West Clarkstown Rd. in Spring Valley on Thanksgiving of 1991. “The marker was erected in honor of her,” Reitman said.

According to Jamie Kempton, author of Rockland Community College: the early years, the Rockland County Cemetery was commonly called “Potter’s field.” Brucker Hall was formerly the “Almshouse,” where Rockland’s poor lived, worked and died. Since 1870, they, with other county indigents, were buried in Potter’s field, which now holds over 800 bodies—more than 80 of them children.

The Almshouse was originally a frame structure built in 1837. In 1883 the building was replaced by the north wing of the present Brucker Hall, constructed of brick from Haverstraw’s brickyards. The other sections were added in various stages. There were 47 acres of farmland for the residents to work. In 1957 conditions in the Almshouse were found intolerable and it was condemned and vacated. Remodeling began shortly thereafter to make it suitable for RCC’s opening in 1959.

According to Robert Burghardt, author of Initial Steps in Creating A Community College, “The connecting section contained the public areas and the two original buildings which became the wings contained the rooms for the residents. In these wings the feel and smell of the almshouse still lingered. The corridors were dark and narrow, painted the then usual institutional green. Opening on to the corridors were the rooms in which the residents lived. They measured about six by ten feet, just large enough to contain a bed and dresser. Each room had a window but no closet. The names of the old people were posted on cards on each door. The word “Dead” as written on some.

Kempton states: “The basement—it was a dungeon used to hold uncontrollable inmates—was littered with dead rats.” As of 1979, some of the cells used for incarceration still remained.

What also remained after the Almshouse vacated was John Rypka, the caretaker. Disgruntled by the strangers encroaching on his territory to begin the college, he was known to chase after them with his shotgun.

According to Tim Henderson of the Journal News, the college cut through the cemetery to build a sidewalk to the parking lot. The bodies that were uncovered were reburied but “Dean Henry Larom once found a pine coffin on the desk. Students had stolen the coffin from the cemetery as a prank.”

Anthony Lombardi, Rockland’s Veterans Burial Commissioner, said very few people visit the cemetery except the students on their way to class and county workers who cut the grass. Lombardi arranges the burials for Rockland’s veterans and for those too poor to afford to arrange their own. He attends every one—over 6,000 since 1973. Sadly, there are times he is the only one there. Particularly hard for Lombardi are the funerals for the children whose parents are unable to afford a proper burial.

And what of Hope Grace Rockland found in the deli garbage can? Co-presidents of the Rockland Foster Parents Association, Dotty Crapanzano and Suzanne Peters, adopted the little girl, gave her a name, and buried her with dignity at the Brick Church Cemetery. A bagpiper played “Amazing Grace” to the large crowd gathered to say goodbye.

Encouraged by the concern of the community over Hope Grace, Crapanzano, then employed by RCC, raised the money necessary to also honor the more than 80 children buried on RCC’s campus. Crapanzano was proud to report that RCC's “Student Senate donated a large portion of the money needed for the memorial. Prior to the memorial, the area covering the children was just grass and weeds.” Crapanzano continued, “It meant so much to me to receive letters from parents whose children are buried there. They now feel they have a beautiful spot to lay their flowers and pay their respects.”

When asked who the “Unknown Baby” was, Crapanzano replied, “In the records we searched through, many were recorded as unknown.”

The Crawling Eye is Back!

The Big Screen Classics Return to Suffern’s Lafayette Theater

edited version appeared in Outlook Student Press: Volume 39 Issue 3 October 10, 2006

Lisa Saunders

“So folks, it’s show time!” Nelson Page, owner of the Lafayette Theater dramatically announces after giving his audience a big hearty welcome and brief history of the vintage films we were about to see.

As Page steps off the stage, where live vaudeville performers once tread the boards in the 1920s, the pipe organ springs back to life, surrounding us with an old tune to help us journey back in time. The lights dim and the curtains part with the opening credits of “The Crimson Ghost,” the 1946 cliffhanger serial designed to keep audiences returning to theaters week after week. Today was chapter two. With a brief summary of events from chapter one, the unrealistic plot resumes, making us smile at how far theater has come—or has it? One lady sitting nearby was so engrossed she would blurt out her warnings like, “Oh no, look out!” Just when we’re convinced that the good guy is about to be vaporized by the death ray, the clip ends, the curtains close and the audience erupts in enthusiast applause.

The curtains quickly part again to reveal today’s feature film, “The Man Who Would Be King,” starring Sean Connery and Michael Caine. Although the audience is primarily made up of adults, they are only slightly better behaved than teenage and toddler audiences. One woman yells at the top of her voice, “Will you STOP talking!” I didn’t know which was better, the audience or the film, though the movie did end with a bang when an unwrapped animal-skin sack revealed the moldering head of Sean Connery.

The Big Screen Classics are back! These Saturday matinees will excite audiences by showing screen legend Bette Davis serving a dead rat on a dinner plate, Marilyn Monroe at the height of her short-lived fame and Peter Sellers in his classic role of “The Pink Panther.” And during Lafayette’s weekend-long HORROR & SCI-FI Festival on Oct 20-22nd, we’ll get to see such “chillers and thrillers” as “Psycho,” “The Crawling Eye” and “Rosemary’s Baby.”

Today’s film was made in 1975, but some of the classics, such as the upcoming “Phantom of the Opera” with Lon Chaney, date as far back as the silent film era of the 1920s when the theater was built.

David Gerzofsky, a college student, came with his dad and younger sister. He said, “These days the major motion pictures are completely underwhelming so I come here to see the oldies.” Last season he saw the 1960 version of the “Time Machine.” He thought it was “awesome, much better than the remake.”

David’s sister Sarah, 14, of Clarkstown North High School likes coming too. “It’s a good way to spend the day with my dad” she said.

David agrees with his sister that the best part of seeing these oldies isn’t so much the films, though these classics are almost impossible to see anywhere else, but it’s being with this particular audience. He said, “I love the spirit of the place—we’re all connected, everyone is enjoying the show together, it’s like we are all part of one body.”

Seniors are particularly fond of coming to the Saturday afternoon classics. The Town of Ramapo under Supervisor Christopher St. Lawrence subsidizes a large percent of the cost of presenting these films and gives Ramapo Seniors free passes. Non-resident seniors are charged $1.00 and all other seats are $6.00.

Albert Petrecca of Suffern, member of the Rockland Community Senior Center said, “I love the old-time pictures and I missed seeing a lot of them as a youngster. Once you missed them back then, that was it. Thanks to Lafayette Theater, we get a second chance.” Petrecca especially likes coming because his friend Norma Meadows comes too. “She keeps me company,” Petrecca said. Then he added, “and the popcorn’s good too!”

Delores Maloney, also a member of RCC Senior Center said, “We love the vintage movies-- reminds us of our childhoods. When I saw “Gaslight” as a child I was terrified, but when I saw it here as an adult, I laughed all the way through. Coming here is a good way to work out some of our childhood fears!”