The Inside Press

Magazines serving the communities of Northern Westchester

Marlene Kern Fischer

Ten Reasons Why I’m Grateful To Call Armonk Home

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When I was asked to write a piece about the things I love most about Armonk, I immediately said “yes.” I have lived in this town for 21 years so I feel like I know it pretty well. So, without further ado, here’s my top ten list:

1: The Restaurants

Armonk has become known for its fabulous restaurants. We have so many new and old places, with a wide variety of cuisines from which to choose. Whether you’re looking for a quick bite for breakfast or lunch, or a more elegant dining experience where you can celebrate a special occasion, there are plenty of options.

2: The Shops

You never have to leave Armonk (unless you want to) because we pretty much have everything you could need right here. A new outfit? A haircut? An amazing cup of coffee? A picture or diploma framed? Whatever you desire, I guarantee you can find it in Armonk. And if you check out the Best of Westchester list, you might find several of your Armonk favorites on that list.

3: The Location, Location, Location

Going into Manhattan for work or for fun is pretty easy, whether you want to drive or take the train; it takes under an hour to get there. If you prefer a day in the country, we are not too far from apple-picking, antique shopping and farms. And in the winter, we are near some pretty decent skiing. Here in Armonk, we get the best of all worlds.

4: The Special Events

People come from far and wide for the annual Armonk Outdoor Art Show, the Fol de Rol, and, most recently, The Frosty Parade, which has gotten bigger and better every year since it first began in 2009. All three events are worth the trip to town and I plan on attending all of them again this year.

5: The People

I have got to say that we have some of the nicest and most compassionate people living here. Whether it’s donating money to a cause or hands-on helping, Armonkians step up. We take care of our own, as well as others.

6: The Schools

The Byram Hills School district consistently ranks highly among Westchester and New York State schools. The administrators and teachers really care about the students and do their best day in and day out. From Coman Hill to the High School, our kids receive a first-rate education. Our district’s reputation is one of the reasons people choose to live here and why home values remain high.

7: The Parks/Wampus Pond

I no longer have little kids. However, when I did, we hung out at the local parks. Lombardi and IBM have lovely playgrounds, tennis courts, basketball hoops, soccer fields, etc. And if boating is your mojo, we have beautiful Byram Lake and Wampus Pond. Every time I pass Wampus Pond I look for the two magnificent swans who have made it their home. And even though its only fall, I’m already wondering if Wampus Pond will freeze over this year—I love to walk on the ice and watch people ice fish and ice skate.

8: The History

Armonk has been around a long time. Mile Square in the center of town (officially, the Bedford Road Historic District) is listed on the National Register of Historic Places and British Major André, Benedict Arnold’s co-conspirator was held at Sands Mill in town prior to his trial. One of my favorite class trips that I chaperoned was to Smith Tavern Complex, which was built around 1779. In addition to the tavern, the complex also has a one-room schoolhouse. Having been obsessed with the “Little House on the Prairie” books when I was a kid, I loved going there and imagining what life was like hundreds of years ago. If you haven’t ever been there, you might want to check it out.

9: The Small-Town Feel

I love a place with a small town feel and we certainly have got that. People know each other by name and by sight. A few times I left my wallet home by accident and was pleasantly surprised to find that the shop owners trusted that I would come back and pay them (which I did). Store owners are happy to go above and beyond for their customers. And while we may not exactly be Mayberry, Armonk has a hometown feel. We’ve even got a gazebo and a Main Street!

10: The Access to Fitness/Wellness

Look around in the spring, summer or fall and you’ll see all the cyclists who are a testament to what a great area this is for biking. And in the winter, we have lots of indoor options for staying fit. Yoga, tennis, a gym, etc. are only a few of the places Armonk residents go to stay in shape. And if you prefer to be a little more sedentary, we do have a really nice library!

As you can see, there’s really quite a lot to love about this town we call home and I feel quite fortunate and proud to live here. 

Back to School: Then and Now

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Full disclosure – Deadlines being what they are, I am writing this back to school piece at the end of June. School just ended today and my youngest son graduated high school a week ago. As the weather is finally starting to get steamy, it’s a bit hard to imagine school resuming again, though of course I know it will.

Things have changed a lot since my oldest son started kindergarten in 1996. Back then, there was no online shopping and no prepackaged school supplies vendors. We would take the supply list we received by snail mail to Staples and, in scavenger hunt style, search for each item. There were always one or two items we had difficulty finding and we would go to another store on our way home to complete our task.

By the time my youngest son began school in 2006, to quote B.B. King, “The Thrill Was Gone” and I was only too happy to take an easier route and get the prepackaged box of supplies from Supplies to Please, rather than dragging all three kids to the store. I admit that although it was easier, there was a small part of me that missed the annual ritual.

Another thing that was different “way back when” was that there was no portal. Our district didn’t launch it until my middle son was in high school and, initially, it was only for report cards at the mid-point and end of each quarter. Now, in addition to report cards, there are grades for each test, homework assignment and more. The portal was accessible all the time until the district shut it down during school hours because some kids were checking their grades between each class, which was extremely anxiety provoking.

Although I found there were certain advantages to having a portal, I also felt that with its implementation something was lost. I missed the days when a teacher would have to pick up the phone to tell me my kid was screwing up. The portal made things impersonal and wasn’t always even all that accurate–some teachers seemed to update it all the time, while others (despite district guidelines) were slow to post on it. Having come late to the portal technology, I never got the hang how often I was supposed to be checking and how much responsibility I should leave to my child, although maybe there isn’t one right formula for that.

Another less-than-positive change is the pressure of getting into college, which has escalated to an alarming degree over the ten-year spread between my oldest and youngest. Living in a high achieving town where educators and parent put undue emphasis on college ratings, there were always demands on the students.

Recently, it’s gotten completely out of control, as was highlighted by the college admissions scandal.

Whereas some of my oldest son’s classmates were tutored for college entrance exams or an occasional subject in which they were struggling, now there are tutors for everything–SATs, ACTs, Regents, SAT 2s, even the ELAs. I thought my youngest was joking when he told me that but, apparently, it’s a thing. While it may be good news for tutoring businesses, it’s incredibly expensive, as well as time-consuming.

While schools are offering mindfulness classes and workshops for parents billed as “How to help your student manage stress,” they seem to be swimming against the tide. Parents are stressed. Kids are stressed. I am not sure where it’s all heading but I can say for sure that where someone goes to college is way less important than what they do when they get there.

There are a lot of mental health issues and angst in college and strengthening the skills that can alleviate some of those issues before a kid starts college is crucial. Working on independence, self-advocacy, balance between work and play, etc. needs to take precedence over getting admitted to a school a few slots higher on the US News and World Reports college lists.

Even though much has changed over the decades, I can say for sure that one thing that has not changed is the desire well-meaning parents have to do the best they can for their children, whatever form that might take. I am curious to see what transformations in edu-cation occur in the upcoming years.

Although I will be a spectator and not an active participant in the 2019-2020 school year, I wish all the parents and their students a successful year, one that’s filled with growth, learning, and joy in the process.

Remembering My Dad

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This Father’s Day, my family will be celebrating my husband, who is an amazing father. But I will also be thinking about my father, who passed away four years ago.

A little about my dad …

My father was born in Budapest, Hungary in 1932. When the Nazis invaded Hungary in 1944, both his parents were taken to Auschwitz. He was interned in a ghetto and lived with an aunt and a cousin, surviving under the protection of Swedish diplomat Raoul Wallenberg. His mother escaped during a death march, running away into the woods and eventually returned to Hungary. His father died at Auschwitz in the gas chambers.

My dad emigrated to Canada after the war ended with a group of Hungarian teens who had lost parents in the war–his mother eventually emigrated there, as well. He attended McGill University, met my mom who was visiting relatives in Montreal, and moved to New York when they married. He worked as an engineer and was able to get his Master’s degree from Columbia University at night.

Although the Holocaust certainly shaped my father, he tried hard not to let it define him and he rarely spoke of the atrocities he witnessed. He made sure to live life fully, enjoying good food, wine and music. He was quick to laugh, especially at his own brand of dad humor. My father embraced his adopted country and was deeply grateful for the freedoms and opportunities afforded him here.

Having been born in different countries and in different eras, my father and I saw things from different perspectives. He was a staunch Republican, whereas I am a liberal Democrat. When I was a little girl, he would take me into the voting booth with him and teach me the importance of voting, telling me how lucky we were to live in a democracy. I always vote and when I choose my candidates, I think of him.

Although I thought of my father as more of a math/science guy, he was also more than proficient in writing–in fact he was able to edit my essays in high school and correct my grammar–pretty impressive for someone whose first language was not English. He was my first Scrabble opponent–he never went easy on me. Although it took me two years to beat him, when I finally did, he was as excited as I was.

Despite losing his own father at a young age, my dad knew how to be a good father. He taught my brother and me how to ride a bike, fish, ice skate, swim and play chess, which was a passion of his. He got up in the middle of the night with me when I was sick and dried my tears when I cried—he couldn’t bear to see me sad. He taught me a lot about nurturing and made me feel safe. When he held me in the ocean when I was a little girl, I knew I would be protected against the crashing waves.

My father was thrilled to become a grandfather and was delighted to be able to attend all five of his grandsons’ bar mitzvahs. Although he was mostly confined to a wheelchair for my youngest son’s bar mitzvah, he did manage get up so that he could have one dance with me.

When he got sick with Parkinson’s disease, he rarely complained, accepting his fate with quiet grace and even humor. In fact, a few days before he died, a nurse asked him if he was comfortable, to which he replied, “I make a living.” And even in such a compromised state, he managed to chuckle.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention my father’s thriftiness, which was legendary. If saving money were an Olympic sport, he would’ve been a gold medalist. He would turn off the air conditioner on summer nights and turn down the heat in the winter. To this day, when I leave a light on, I can hear his admonishment in my head. And every time I spend three dollars on my iced coffee, I am pretty sure he does a little roll in his grave.

I suppose that’s how it is with all the people we love. We never forget them or the things they taught us. We are reminded of them in the special moments and in the ordinary moments. They live on through the people they loved and who loved them back.

Happy Father’s Day to all the dads who are with us and to those who live on in our hearts.

The Changing Nature of Motherhood

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This Mother’s Day will mark the last one that I am a full-time mom. My youngest will be leaving for college at the end of August, which means that after nearly three decades, I will be an empty nester.

I am no stranger to the changing nature of motherhood. When my three boys were little, it was all about physical caretaking; making sure they were fed and clean. I read to them and cuddled them and covered their faces with kisses millions of times as I lifted them out of their cribs, high chairs, car seats, strollers, etc. We had outings to the park and playground and we were together almost all of the time. It was me and them and we made a great team.

As they began to walk and then run, I became their protector. This was no easy feat because my sons often seemed hell bent on self-destruction and I often felt as if I spent my days saving them from themselves. There was the time my middle son, who was almost two, ate goose poop on a soccer field. Although he was fine, more than two decades later I am still scarred.

Between my older boys there were a slew of gashes that needed stitches and broken bones that needed setting. I was in charge of triage, trying to figure out how serious each injury was, a job for which my degree in English literature did not prepare me. At one point, the nurses in the orthopedist’s office knew my name and I was concerned they might call social services on me. Luckily, most of my sons’ injuries happened when they were not with me; most were sports related. I told the doctors that I should get a punch card where the cast for the tenth break was free.

My favorite role probably has been that of teacher. I am proud that I taught my sons how to read and was even more excited than they were when they sounded out their first words. I taught them their first notes on the piano (always starting with middle C), how to tie their sneakers, poetry, and a million other things I’m not sure they remember. But I do.

When my sons became teenagers, my role felt as it had morphed into being a warden and disciplinarian-in-chief. All of a sudden, instead of it being me and them it sometimes felt like me against them. This may have been the hardest stage of all because I didn’t enjoy enforcing rules—I suppose most people don’t. After all, who wants to be checking on homework and grades and meting out punishment for broken curfews and other infringements? Parents of teens will most certainly understand the grueling and often unrewarding nature of that stage.

Resident Uber driver, playmate, nurse, tutor, cheerleader; these are only a few of the other hats I wore over the many years I parented.

As my two older sons have gone off to college and graduated, gotten jobs and left the nest, I have found my role shifting once again. This phase is less hands on and more advisory; I am mostly called upon to listen to woes, lend moral support and occasionally offer an opinion. I’ve also entered a phase where, in addition to being my sons’ mom, I get to be their friend and can enjoy them in a way that I was not able to when they were younger. When we are together, we talk about their jobs, politics, life, whatever. And it’s really nice. When they were younger, and we were at odds, I honestly couldn’t envision the relationships we have now. For those of you still in the trenches, hang in there.

I won’t sugarcoat how hard it is to imagine all three of their bedrooms clean and empty and the house eerily quiet. After all, wasn’t it just a moment ago when they were little, making messes and noise? I am comforted by the thought that although my role has changed, two things remain constant; that I will always be needed in some capacity and how much I will always love my children.

This Mother’s Day, whether you’re peering at your baby’s first sonogram, opening homemade cards in bed with your little kids, joining your big kids for brunch, or even if you can’t physically be with your children, I hope you have a wonderful day. Because all of us who have nurtured, protected, disciplined and loved, have earned it.

My Ever-Evolving Thoughts on Beauty

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After Penny Marshall died a few months ago, I saw an interview she had done where she talked about what she believed was her legacy. She summed things up in her matter-of-fact way, stating “I had a successful TV show, I had a couple of successful movies and I’m not beautiful.” I was somewhat dismayed to hear that she included her perception of her looks in her summation of her life. A perception that wasn’t even true in my opinion.

I understood what she was saying–Penny Marshall came of age when women like Elizabeth Taylor and Doris Day defined the standard of beauty. She worked in an industry where beauty was largely skin deep.

I too grew up in an era when beauty was defined by a cookie cutter mold. So many of my peers went to the same plastic surgeon in high school for the same nose job, afraid to look different or too ethnic. We wore the same Benneton sweaters and clogs. (Well, everyone except me, whose “practical” mother declared “clogs aren’t good for your feet.”)  But I have seen a shift in a perception of beauty since I was a teen, a shift that’s positive. Actresses and models don’t all look the same anymore; they are short, tall, of different races, plus-sized (or at least “curvy”), etc.

As I have gotten older, I have learned that true beauty at any age is about confidence and individuality.

I look past the women who strive to look the same and see magnificence in those who allow their essence and honesty to shine through. I’ve discovered it’s not the size of the pants that makes one beautiful, it’s the size of the heart. How many times have you met someone you initially thought was attractive only to find that their character flaws diminished their attractiveness? And for that matter, hasn’t someone become lovelier in your eyes after you see the loveliness of their soul?

I just saw a picture on Facebook of someone I knew when I was in middle school who is battling ovarian cancer (and kicking its ass). She has lost her hair but not her spirit. That’s beauty.

I’ve also discovered that self-acceptance goes a long way in creating an appearance of beauty. We have earned the bodies we have—why not celebrate them? Those stretch marks on my stomach? Evidence of a belly which once housed some of my children. My laugh lines? Proof that I have indeed laughed a lot (as well as cried). The extra pounds I carry? Confirmation that I enjoy food. Those grey hairs? OK, as someone who started going grey prematurely, I admit I have for years colored my hair (quite often these days) but have thought about stopping at some point in the future. I have a few friends who no longer dye their hair and they look fantastic. I strive to do the best with what I’ve got and, aside from the hair coloring, I’m not willing to go through other great lengths to try to convince myself (or anyone else) that I’m decades younger than I am. There’s much I’ve yet to accomplish; I can’t spend too much of my time and energy worrying about my appearance.

As far as fashion goes, I do have a subscription to a popular magazine and love to look at the new trends each season–especially the handbags. Both my husband and middle son work in the apparel industry and I think fashion is fun, an artistic expression by designers. But I’ve developed my own style and learned to wear what works for me. When I was younger, I often made the mistake of trying to copy someone else’s look, only to discover it didn’t look the same on me. Of course, it didn’t; an imitation is rarely as good as the original. And while I may read fashion magazines, if something seems ridiculous to me, no matter how popular, I won’t be swayed. I can unequivocally state that even if shoulder pads come back in style again someday, I will not be wearing them. Rocking your own style is beautiful. Penny Marshall’s character Laverne Defazio knew this better than anyone; she wore the letter L on all her clothes, even her brewery uniform and her pajamas. It was her signature and she was unapologetic about it. She wasn’t afraid to stand out.

What I saw in Penny Marshall was someone with the magical ability to make me laugh and cry, both with her acting, as well as her directing. The person who brought us unforgettable lines like “there’s no crying in baseball” (A League of Their Own) made this world a more beautiful place. And that’s as beautiful as it gets.