The Inside Press

Magazines serving the communities of Northern Westchester

growing up

One Last Lap: Saying Goodbye to 13 Years of Chappaqua Sports

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Walking through Chappaqua on a Saturday morning, you see bright green specks spread out across the Recreation Field. It is a team of AYSO kindergarteners, featuring miniature players with uniforms down to their ankles and stubby shin guards strapped to tiny legs. Among the mass of little athletes, you spot a girl standing off to the side.

She sprouts curly pigtails from the sides of her head, sports her very first pair of cleats, and holds a bright pink soccer ball in her small hands, although she has no idea what to do with it yet. Right now, all she can think about is her own excitement. She has no idea how busy, crazy, and extraordinary her life will become after these very first moments of her Chappaqua sports career.

That girl is me. Thirteen years later, I am not much different, even after a whirlwind of sports, teams, practices, games, coaches, teammates, schools, and memories.

For as long as I can remember, I have been playing sports in Chappaqua. I have hit almost all of them–soccer, track, basketball, lacrosse, softball, swimming, tennis–and have proudly worn the names of Chappaqua and Greeley across my uniforms.

I always wanted to be doing something, and luckily for me, I always had a home on a Chappaqua team.

Things changed, naturally; these past few years, it became less likely to find me on the upper soccer field at Gedney Park, but much easier to catch me warming up on the Greeley track or out on a run around town. Even so, Chappaqua sports are among the most defining aspects of my 18 years in this town. In this ode to the crazy schedules, amazing memories, and incredible friendships that went along with these many years of sports, I can finally say thank you.

As I near the end of my ninth and final season running for Greeley, I find myself struggling to describe just what track did for me. Despite being an individual sport, track is united, supportive, and team-centered; the friendship I feel for and from my teammates is unparalleled, and it is this camaraderie that has kept me coming back each season.

We train and compete together, and we savor all that the experience has given us, championing each personal athletic achievement and celebrating the relationships that got us there. Looking back, these connections were there every step of the way, from the track to the field and beyond.

Of course, my athletic experience was not perfect. There were injuries. There were bad moments. There were times when I lost my confidence, and others when I questioned my participation altogether. Really, I was never the best at what I did. I was never the athlete you noticed, the girl who stood out amongst her teammates and competitors.

But on the eve of my graduation from Greeley, everything looks different. As the things that I thought would last forever become “lasts” themselves, I choose not to remember the negatives. How could I? I have so much to be thankful for. It was a wild ride, and I would not change a thing.

For me, the ending is perfect. Greeley track and field won the League Championship, and I am coming full circle with one last season of soccer on the coed high school AYSO team. However, it is bittersweet. It is certainly not easy to walk away from 13 years of Chappaqua sports. Somehow, the fields at Gedney Park will always belong to me. The Greeley track will always feel like home, even when it is being reconstructed.

And when I walk through town on a Saturday morning and see young athletes running around in front of their cheering parents, I will think about the incredible years they have ahead of them. It is their turn now.

While I am excited for what lies ahead, part of me will always be here, in a green uniform three sizes too large, kicking my pink soccer ball around the field next to Town Hall. And who knows? Over college breaks, you just might catch me on a run around Chappaqua. Some things never change.

Farewell, Sweet Swing Set

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The gardeners took down the swing-set the other day.

Laurie and I had been talking about removing this once vital backyard play-center for at least a year, our main motivation being that it’s under-utilized as our kids have gotten older, and years of Chappaqua weather put a beating on the old wooden war-horse.

Also, my daughter’s best friend is something of a champion swinger and still uses ours. The thought of him pushing the set to its final strained limits and potentially flying feet-first into my already not thrilled neighbor’s yard is not appealing. I’m generally a pragmatic person yet the thought of the swing-set ending has made me reflect upon this slight, yet distinct, turning point for our family.

When the big swing-set was installed years ago the kids were not just a little excited. There were huge plans for the club-house area, big-kid solo climbs up the ladder, the glory of three chain-linked swings (two full, one baby) and, of course, The Orange Slide of Destiny. The first thing we did was set up the kiddie-pool (first of dozens) at the bottom of The Slide. The immediate gratification of sliding head-first, feet first, laying on one’s back, the kowabunga surfing pose, any way at all with the resultant explosive splash was thrilling for the kids (and us)!

Even better, the swing-set became a destination for all of us. The kids could play independently in an old school (no screens!) visceral manner, learn safety lessons and, best of all, we could sit and watch, read and watch, eat and watch, maybe even have a drink and watch. You get the picture.

Before we moved to Chappaqua from the city the thought of being excited about having our own swing-set was something I’d never considered nor cared about in the slightest. Going to the neighborhood park and swinging the kids was a simple pleasure of city living. However, as the Manhattan to Westchester culture-shock ensued I realized that my urban perspective would need some tweaking if I was to adjust to a bucolic life. I remember walking into town with my daughter in a Baby Bjorn, something I’d done a thousand times with both kids in the city, and feeling that somehow this was different. And, it wasn’t only because there weren’t yet sidewalks on 120, and people seemed to be staring.

Part of the conversation about removing the swing-set was what to do with the physical space it once so organically filled. That got me thinking about what I might want as the kids get older. Before Chappaqua I may have envisioned being a gardener Dad. The previous owners left us with a gorgeous cornucopia of flowers, trees and bushes. The thought of working in the yard, being outside and physically maintaining my property was highly appealing. In theory at least. A wise Chappaqua friend quickly advised that doing one’s own yard was “too much work.” I’ll just reiterate that it was the gardeners taking down the swing set recently, not yours truly, so that particular Dad vision faded quickly.

It’s funny how you find yourself reflecting upon something as simple as removing a piece of playground equipment. I texted my son at college and asked him for any memories of the swing-set and I was sure it would be some near miss compound fracture or some crazy sport he invented. His surprising response was remembering coming home from sleepaway camp, sitting on a swing alone and feeling not really sure what to do with himself. Certainly not the image I expected but somehow connected to my swing-related contemplation.

I never really seriously questioned our decision to remove the swing set. I did manage, as I do sometimes, to consider the meaning of these little practical changes in life and found myself thinking a bit about my two great kids and how they’ve evolved. Raising children can really fly by and the symbolism of this small event somehow struck a chord with me.

I envisioned the nuts and bolts being taken out of the foundation of the swing-set, and the hard-weathered wood gently laid upon the ground, leaving a sentimental skeleton of a once thriving play-center that was so central to my family’s life.

I could hear the background music, think “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)” by Green Day or “Cats in the Cradle” by Harry Chapin, playing as the deconstruction slowly occurred. However, this semi-emotional Viking-funeral fantasy was quickly obliterated when I watched the gardeners take the whole thing down in about two minutes with a chain saw… an emotionally sobering moment for this Dad and probably just in the nick of time!

Here’s to “Love Beyond Measure” and a PRESSURE-FREE Valentine’s Day!

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anna-at-u-massI’m not here to argue that Valentine’s Day is a made-up commercial holiday that exists only to remind singles how sorry they are to be alone. In fact, it’s been around for perhaps some 1500 years–WAY before Hallmark ever existed. It’s not the romantic pressure of needing a “Valentine” that bugs me, but it’s the inevitable and underestimated and underreported social pressure in our schools while growing up that left me with a heavy heart on several Valentine’s Days.

In my otherwise happy-go-lucky life as an elementary school youngster at Roaring Brook, there were three occasions that gave me anxiety: 1) sporadic lice epidemics, 2) school play auditions, and 3) Valentine’s Day. Each year, with a stern expression, my teacher decreed that if we hand out any Valentines, we must hand them to everyone in the class. We also took home letters to our parents outlining this directive.

I basically agree with the premise: Every child should have the same number of Valentines so there is no one feeling left out. However, little did I realize, an arms race would ensue as to who could come up with the biggest and best Valentine. When I realized my Hershey Kiss taped onto printer paper heart cutouts could never measure up to my classmate’s six-dollar goody bags packed with Godiva chocolates galore and custom decorated cookies, I felt embarrassed by my own creations.

While I understand and appreciate the attempt at fostering equality here, it really just permanently etches materialism into kids’ vulnerable minds and puts pressure on parents to not let their child be outdone. To avoid this issue, I suggest that teachers have children write cards in the classroom using the same art materials to work with. It’s not like they don’t get enough candy on Halloween.

In middle school, the Valentine dilemma became only slightly less daunting. Some homerooms allowed students to exchange cards, but I don’t recall it as a concern. Even so, there was a new, perhaps greater problem looming: kids started dressing up super wacky for Valentine’s Day. Instead of your average red shirt, the halls of Seven Bridges were a swarm of colorful knee socks, pink boas, tiaras, heart-shaped sunglasses and layers upon layers of beads.

While this was festive and fun, it also seriously promoted cliques. It was up to you to establish a group to match with and shop for gear together, and dressing up alone signified being a loner. At an age where cattiness is at an all-time high, you can imagine how being left out would feel. Buy $30 worth of pointless tchotchkes solely to suggest your membership in a group? Now I’d say, no way! Then I’d say it was a requirement.

Fast forward to high school. The rule established in elementary school had disappeared and turned into the opposite: Valograms. They’re a great idea, as they fundraise for the American Heart Association, but they’re also a downright popularity contest. Each year, one purchases a number of  “Valogram” cards for their friends, and senior-class volunteer “Cupids” hand them out in classrooms, accompanied with a flower per Valogram. This is literally a public announcement of exactly how many friends you have.

There is no being discreet here, as there are flowers to show for it. It’s just like the scene in Mean Girls where Damien hands out candy cane grams, “FOUR for you, Glen Coco! You go Glen Coco! Cady Heron, one for you … and none for Gretchen Wieners. Bye!”

If someone you thought was your friend sends a Valogram to all of your friends but you, what’s that supposed to mean? What if you send one and don’t receive one in return? How disheartening! Can’t we just have a simple bake sale or dance or something instead? Oh, and students continue 
to go all-out with Valentine’s Day attire, so there’s still that hanging over your head.

Despite evidence here to the contrary, I happen to like Valentine’s Day. However, I like Valentine’s Day because it celebrates love for those you care most about, whether that is a significant other, family, or close friends. I enjoy yummy treats and teddy bears as much as the next person, but I believe the love you give and receive should not be laid bare for all of your classmates to observe.

Throughout childhood and into high school, kids are quite impressionable and vulnerable. I know I was. So, rather than make some children feel less than equal among their peers, I suggest we teach our children that love is beyond measure.

Anna Bennett graduated Greeley in 2010 and is a senior at the University of Massachusetts in Amherst.

“Oh, the places you’ll go!”

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lindsay-letter-shotDr. Seuss’ words, repeated to me on the threshold of graduating elementary school and then middle school, have again begun to swirl around my mind. That book was the main inspiration for my first-ever Inside Chappaqua article back in 2010, but Dr. Seuss’ messages and motivations have stuck with me and made more sense as I’ve grown and matured. It seems rather silly, doesn’t it? A seventeen year-old obsessing over a children’s book. That’s the wonder of it all, though; our younger selves had no idea of the impact those stories would have on our lives.

Sure, there’s a huge, terrifying, wonderful world outside of Chappaqua. I read all about it in the Magic Tree House books, going on adventures and first learning about history through the eyes of two young children not so different from myself. The books of my childhood shaped who I am, the messages within staying with me and taking on new meanings as I’ve gained more experience in the world.

From Potter to Gatsby, Tolkien to Hemingway, books have always been part of me.  I know that between the covers of a book I will always find escape and a place in which I can lose myself and forget about “real life” for a while.  This lifelong love of reading has fueled my excitement for the first-ever Chappaqua Children’s Book Festival this October.

dr suess bookI am beyond thrilled to reprise my role as Inside Chappaqua guest editor-in-chief and to again work with the original “Dream Team” of Greeley writers, all of us about to enter our senior year.  I thank them for their incredible work and not hesitating to be part of both this and our first issue in September 2011, and wish them all the best this year, in college and beyond. A huge “thank you,” of course, to Grace Bennett, for again providing this extraordinary opportunity, and to my family, for always being there for me. Their constant support and belief in me has increased my confidence and shown me that I have the ability to accomplish anything I put my mind to.

And thank you, Chappaqua, for being an open, enlightening community in which youth can grow and flourish.  Our formative years here will no doubt influence the decisions my classmates and I make going forward; Chappaqua has played a key part in shaping who we are, and now it’s time to put all of that into the “real world.”

Our experiences growing up and the messages we’ve absorbed will stay with us forever, and help us to rise to unexpected and exciting places.

Oh, the places we’ll go, indeed.

–Lindsay Hand 

HGHS Class of 2014

The Great Unknown, One Year to Go

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By Lindsay Hand

One more year.

lindsay-blue-dressI have been waiting for this moment. The moment when I can say “one more year until I go to college, until I am an adult, until my life really begins.” From the Friday night fro-yo runs to the seemingly endless piles of work each year to the fun times spent with friends, Chappaqua is filled with memories upon memories. I have spent my entire life so far here, and though I have had some experiences living on my own away from home, I don’t think anything can prepare me for leaving completely.

It’s weird to think about the future. Sure, it’s exciting, but it’s also big and scary. It’s like part of me is Nemo –daring, adventurous, anxious to explore –and the other part is Marlin, holding that unruly part of me back, worried about what might happen if I let myself go. This final year here at home is important not only for obvious reasons–academics, family, and friends –but because it is my last chance to ready myself for immersion in the outside world, to come to terms with the fact that while I know my family will always be there for me, once I leave, I’m essentially on my own.

I know that I have lived a sheltered life here in Chappaqua, with many advantages not enjoyed by so many others. I have been so fortunate; I grew up with loving family, amazing friends and fantastic education. I have had so many opportunities to expand my horizons, challenge myself and test my abilities. The real test, however, will come next year, when I am living on my own in college, away from everything that I always just took for granted. As excited as I am for this new experience, I am admittedly nervous for my future endeavors and know I will miss almost everything about home.

There are the little things: brownies from the Farmer’s Market every Saturday, bumping into that person I knew five years ago in Starbucks, and that community feel at the homecoming game every Fall and Relay For Life each Spring. While we all might have complaints or pet peeves about one thing or another, I recognize that Chappaqua is a unique place in which I have been very lucky to have grown up, and it will most definitely be a culture shock when I’m no longer in this familiar environment.

lindsay-readingThere’s No Crystal Ball

It is one thing to think about the future from the comfort and familiarity of one’s house, but it is something else entirely to go out there and live it. Going to college and having to actually live life without parents (laundry doesn’t just clean itself) is an experience unlike anything any of us have ever been through before, other than, possibly, in small doses each summer; there are so many more responsibilities to manage, decisions to make. All of the studying and working hard over the years has not necessarily answered the question that plagues everyone from childhood through adolescence: “what do you want to be when you grow up?”

A decade ago, our answers would have ranged from astronauts to Disney princesses to firefighters. Now, the answer doesn’t come so easily, and I’m pretty sure there’s no college major called Being a Disney Princess. In many ways, this is probably what scares us all the most; at 17-years-old, how can we possibly know for sure what we want to do for the entirety of our lives? I, personally, have no idea where life will lead me. All I can do is pursue my passions, go with the flow and make my life as full and happy as 
I can. Hopefully the rest will all fall into place.

lindsay-age-2As I stand at the precipice of my senior year of high school, ready to jump into my future, I am held back by the sudden shock that after this year, I may never again see many of the people with whom I have grown up. We’ll all move on, finding our niches whatever and wherever they may be, and going our separate ways. The future is arriving, and we have to make the most of this last year together.

“Again, you can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something–your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever.” – Steve Jobs

treehoue bookTwo-time Inside Chappaqua Guest Editor Lindsay Hand is a senior at Horace Greeley High School. Growing up, she loved the Magic Treehouse books.