The Inside Press

Magazines serving the communities of Northern Westchester

Inside Thoughts

The Little Tree with Big Dreams

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By Susan Stern Kravet

 

One fall day in Bedford, a brisk cool breeze

Send a spruce cone tumbling from some tall green trees.

 

Its little seeds landed and sprouted some shoots,

And soon little baby trees began to grow roots.

 

Those delicate saplings were protected from harm,

Because they planted themselves on a Christmas Tree Farm!

 

On Winkler’s Farm they grew, with lots of sun and rain,

Except for one tiny tree that was really rather plain.

 

Little Sprucie stayed small while the others trees spread.

As they grew tall and fluffy he was spindly instead.

 

As the others laughed at him and covered him in shade,

He felt ashamed and sad, and a little bit afraid.

 

The seasons changed and the other trees continued to grow.

Each December families came with squealing children in tow.

 

Wearing mittens and hats with their cheeks flushed red and bright,

They searched the fields to find a tree that seemed just right.

 

Finally one year Sprucie thought, “I can be a Christmas Tree!”

And as children rushed by he waved his needles to say, “PICK ME!”

 

As they ran to bigger trees with their faces half frozen,

He wondered why it was that he was never chosen.

 

Years went by and the littlest spruce slowly grew high,

And Winkler’s farm was changing too as time passed by.

 

One summer Sprucie saw a sight that he feared.

Tractors and bulldozers and backhoes appeared!

 

Trees were knocked down with a loud crash landing,

But Sprucie was lucky and was left still standing.

 

Soon right where Winkler’s Farm once proudly stood,

Builders put up lots of houses and a real neighborhood.

 

Sprucie was next to a big house all painted white,

And a bright yellow moving van appeared to his delight.

 

He was happy that he would no longer be alone,

And finally have a family they he could call his own.

 

Chris and Joy Holliday had a girl and two boys,

And they enjoyed climbing Sprucie and making lots of noise.

 

As Hope, Nick and Noel got older they had less time to play,

And like the trees on the farm they grew up and went away.

 

Sprucie turned 60 years old and stood 70 feet tall,

At 35 feet wide the Holliday’s feared he would fall.

 

A group of people gathered and Sprucie was so scared,

As they gently took him down the neighbors came and stared.

 

He was tied to a flatbed truck as it started to flurry,

And they drove him away in quite a hurry.

 

When they stopped two hours later he saw buildings tall as the sky,

And he wondered, “Where am I now, and why?”

 

He hoped he would hear something that might explain,

But Sprucie was soon hoisted up with a giant crane.

 

Workmen on platforms wrapped each branch with wire,

And they kept on going as they reached higher and higher.

 

One week later he noticed a very large crowd,

As they all stared up at him he felt surprised and proud.

 

He heard a countdown, 10,9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2, and then they shouted 1!

As the people roared he realized the honor he had won.

 

For the littlest spruce realized with awe and with glee,

That HE was the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree!

 

His branches were glowing with thousands of twinkling lights,

Towering tall as he brightened the New York City nights.

 

At last Sprucie was the most famous Christmas tree,

Enjoyed by the entire city and every family.

 

He always had hope and in his heart he always knew.

That it’s never too late for your dreams to come true.

 

Susan Stern Kravet is a New York based writer on the topics of parenting, women’s issues and relationships (and the occasional children’s story!)She seeks out the humor in her observations of everyday life.  She and her husband have two sons in their 20’s who provide lots of material.  In her spare time she enjoys photography, gallery hopping, and the pursuit of great cocktail bars. You can read more of her work on her blog at MyMothahood.com

Poppy’s Top Tips On Preserving Youth

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Editor’s Note: This eulogy was delivered on April 9, 2019, by Anna Bennett at the funeral of her grandfather, Jacob Breitstein, affectionately known as Poppy by all.

Hi Everyone,

Thank you all for being here. For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Anna and I am Jacob’s granddaughter. Over the years, I’ve written a few pieces about him, most of them painful, about memories he has shared with me about the holocaust. However, when I think of my Poppy, my first thought is not of the sufferings he endured – I think of a very special man whose strong energy was infectious to all, and that kept me laughing for all of my life. For this reason, I wanted to read an essay I wrote just under ten years ago (I was 17 and he was 87) which I feel reflects his true spirit. I love you Poppy, and I will miss and remember you fondly forever.

Poppy’s Top Tips on Preserving Youth

Everyone wishes they were a little younger. Of course, there is no method to shed twenty years, but there are certain ways to feel younger. Most people aspire to feel a little younger, like maybe…. lose a few pounds? Or decrease their cholesterol…? But my Grandpa, whom we all affectionately call Poppy, is the most youthful 87-year-old anyone will ever meet, and let me tell you, he wants everyone to know it. Fortunately for all of us, he has agreed to share his top tips that have helped him stay young all these years:

1) Never buy blush. There is an improved, healthier, longer-lasting alternative: Slap your cheeks every morning in the shower for precisely one minute. This is totally free, and totally not tested on animals (other than you). Do this and you’ll be set with a natural, rosy glow for the entire day.

2) Eat lots of fruits and vegeTABLES (as Poppy would pronounce them). Not only do fruits and vegetables help us keep our girlish figures, but they also lower the risk of a number of serious illnesses and health problems. It’s common knowledge that on the food pyramid, the recommended number of servings of fruits and vegetables is about five per day… But since they are so good for us, shouldn’t we bump it up to fifteen? Poppy thinks so.

3) Wake up at 5am and do exercise videos. If there’s one way to stay young, it’s to wake up bright and early and get a great boost of energy for the day ahead. Lay out your mat, and whip out your jump rope, and get set for at least an hour’s worth of exercise videos. Poppy would recommend “The Complete Workout & Stress Reduction Program” from the Jane Fonda 1982 collection – but don’t worry, Jane is timeless.

4) Do the MIRF. What is MIRF, you ask? It stands for “Multiple Infestations Removed Forever,” Poppy’s invention to live until at least the age of 115. The idea is that one must clench all the muscles in your body at the same time for at least fifteen seconds per day and then release. This will speed up the blood flow, and remove all the infestations that could have killed you. He has claimed rights to MIRF, and even submitted it to be a word in Webster’s dictionary. It was declined by the editor, perhaps due to jealously of not having invented MIRF himself.

5) Do NOT take elevators. Another chance to flaunt your energy at old age. Whenever you have a choice between taking an elevator or the stairs, opt for the stairs. You can even make a game out of this. Say your apartment is on the 9th floor of a building, and your family insists on taking the elevator. You, on the other hand, run down the nine flights as fast as you can, and just as the elevator door opens … casually appear outside with no signs of tiredness.

6) Never go out to eat. It is expensive, a hassle, and you probably make better food than they do. And most of all, they will poison you. Poppy knows this is true because he has felt sick many times after going out to eat. Thank goodness he had MIRF to save him, or else he might have died. Not to mention, restaurants don’t serve nearly enough fruits and vegeTABLES. Note: If you are forced to eat out, stick to the bread, as it is the only food at restaurants without poison.

7) Lastly, dance whenever you have the chance. When you’re 87 years old like Poppy, you must verify your ability to live until 115. So, when given the chance to dance, go crazy! Jump all over the place and say “I feel like I’m thirty!” (repeat this many times) … Doing this will make people want to imitate you and therefore MIRF. And when your friends and family are tired of dancing, just continue dancing on and on…

Conclude

Poppy was always the last one on the dance floor – not only to flaunt his good health, but just because he loved to dance. He also loved to sing – and just like his dancing, he would sing whenever he felt like it.

One of his favorite songs in recent years was “Que Sera, Sera?” by Doris Day.

This translates to “What will be?” … The lyrics continue: “Whatever will be, will be. The future is not ours to see.”

I think Poppy sang this song in our company to teach us … to live in the moment and be true to ourselves … because whatever will be, will be.

I hope to live by these words and celebrate your life when I hear them. I love you Poppy.

Our Walkable Town: Just Part of the Magic of Pleasantville!

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When we moved to Pleasantville in 2007 it was only because there was a house for rent here that was a new construction. Coming from a one-bedroom apartment in Manhattan, we decided that we weren’t going to pass that up.  “But there are no school busses in Pleasantville,” a long-time friend new to the suburbs said to us.

As parents of a young child, we wondered why no one had ever mentioned that to us and quickly came to realize that it was because… in Pleasantville, it simply doesn’t matter. And the longer we lived here we believed that the absence of those busses was actually a little part of the magic.

Living in a town where people walk to and from school, to meet friends for coffee, to go to the movies, out to dinner or the local book store enables us to create and maintain connections that make life special. Running into a friend or neighbor while out walking Ruby, our golden-doodle, results easily in knowing who needs dinner delivered or what issues are being discussed at the village board meeting.

This walking town has also been and continues to be an integral part of Lucy and Sadie’s childhoods. Being able to walk home from school by themselves or in to town after school on a Friday with friends is not only fun but it’s also a boost to their confidence and self-esteem; small gifts all because of some well-maintained sidewalks and a lovely community.

“If I could get paid to be the Pleasantville Welcome Wagon, I would!” is what I’m often telling people I meet who are new to our little town. I’m so excited for them, for the greatness that they don’t really know they’ve found.

My Idea of Beauty at 19 and Now

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Author and his wife Laurie

It was the late 1980’s and a Grateful Dead cover band was playing it hot at a local college bar. Across the room I saw her. A classic Deadhead chick in faded jeans and a tie-dye, covered with a loose peasant blouse. She was balancing a beer in a plastic cup while un-self-consciously bopping to the music. To say she was an enticing vision would be an understated lie. She was just outstanding. At 19, I probably fell in love at least twice a week but this moment stood out. I was not the type to approach a girl in a bar and I may have stared a little too intently but it definitely felt like lightning had struck.

As it turned out I eventually got to know this stunning hippy girl, just a little, and away from that moment in time the magic was gone. She was sweet and cute but there was no connection. In retrospect that moment at the bar, aside from my unwieldy 19-year-old ardor, was a great summation of my understandably naïve take on beauty.

Back then I was limited in my perception of so many things. If I were to consider my opinion of what was beautiful at that time it would now seem dated and superficial. I’ll present here, embarrassing as it may be, what might have been my vision of an ideal evening at that time even if it was, in reality, completely out of reach. I’d pick up my date (picture the hippy chick above but really into me) in my new red Porsche 944 (one of the company’s few failed models), we’d have a fine meal at TGI-Friday’s (who knew mozzarella could be deep-fried!) and then we’d head off to the movies to see the latest John Hughes teen angst flick (to this day I still don’t quite understand Eric Stoltz’s big plan in “Some Kind of Wonderful”). I know. This scenario is not appealing.

Cut to 2019 and the world is spinning wildly out of control and we the people are divided. Social media is pervasive and invasive and we’re clearly, as a society, moving forward into unchartered territory in so many ways. As for me, I’m as immersed in the chaos as anyone else but I endure and now I believe, I have a more credible and learned perspective on the subject of what constitutes beauty.

I can now see beauty in so many things that had been inconceivable to me when I was a younger man. Obviously, watching our children grow and evolve is a no-brainer but is also a profound movement away from inherent pre-kids self-absorption. Having worked for many years, I now recognize the allure of someone doing a job, any job, with commitment, honor and excellence. I’ve been fortunate enough to have unexpected friendships that make life more fulfilling and fun. I’m also lucky to still be able to compete athletically at sports I loved as a child. Not to mention the pleasure of good food be it a bacon and egg on a roll or fresh summer peach.

I can now see beauty in so many things that had been inconceivable to me when I was a younger man.

Undoubtedly, the most consistent and important aspect of beauty I’ve been fortunate to be exposed to is my wife. Laurie is the embodiment of gorgeous both physically and spiritually. I’ve known her a long time and am completely secure in our relationship yet I still have moments where I shake my head and say, “How the hell did I achieve this”? On a typical morning, she’ll get dressed for work and ask me how she looks. This daily exchange has occurred for years. My first instinct is usually to say “beautiful” because that’s the truth. However, I usually choose a more work-setting appropriate adjective. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I look forward to that interaction every day.

Way back, at 19, I had another one of those memorable moments not unlike at the bar with the Deadhead chick. A lovely girl pulled up in a funky orange European car wearing a red-sweater and blue jeans. She had stunning coffee-colored eyes that matched her long hair. My heart fluttered a bit as I caught sight of this beautiful young woman. It was years later that we got to know each other well. Of course, it was Laurie and the lesson I’ve learned is that true beauty can even transcend the naivete of youth.

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.