The Inside Press

Magazines serving the communities of Northern Westchester

life

Cozy at Home

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I’m writing this on a grey, damp day in October, cozy in my loose ‘at home’ clothes. I guess the gloomier, chillier weather had to arrive sooner or later after one of the most spectacular Septembers on record. I was grateful for the extra stretch of summer, but equally so for the rains that help us transition through seasons, too. Mother Nature knows what she’s doing if we don’t mess with her too much! And as we head full full steam ahead into fall and winter temps, I do ponder the comforts of home, and feel ever grateful for my own. When it’s grey, there are fewer temptations. I get more of my ‘serious’ work done (like writing this column!). But I can also opt for lazy.

I might surf more, catch up on a grocery item list or other errands. If I’m feeling social, I’ll check movie listings at the Jacob Burns Film Center and inquire with a friend or two. But no matter what I do, I always feel that at home days maximizing your time solo or with family are every bit as precious as time out on the sunniest of days.

If you’re reading your second edition of Inside Biarcliff & Ossining on a grey day too, I have some good news. I promise it will give you plenty of reasons to smile, whether it’s Carine Feist’s ‘Friendsgiving Menu’ or Peter Chatzky’s ‘etcetera’ humor essay on ‘Loving Briarcliff.’

Please enjoy our second edition which celebrates two town histories-aside from our cover story on the fabulous historical society in Briarcliff Manor, don’t miss learning about the ambitious educational undertakings of the Sing Sing Prison Museum and also the inspiring vision of the Bethany Arts Community. We hope to continue trying to capture different slices of life and culture in the area… rain or shine. Happy Thanksgiving!

From the Boroughs to the Burbs … and Back

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The view from the Davis’ new city apartment

One of the most famous lines in cinema is “There’s no place like home” uttered repeatedly by a young Judy Garland playing Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. What one wants in a home and a community though often changes over time. For many city dwellers with a burgeoning family, the excitement of the city soon takes a back seat to practical needs. The suburbs call out with abundant green lawns, tranquility and good public schools. Cramped apartments and endless cultural opportunities give way to multi-bedroom houses with ample closet space and sprawling backyards. A slower pace. Less noise. The smell of cut grass comes from the lawn outside rather than from a high-end room spray from Bloomingdales. As the spring housing market heats up, we spoke with young families who made the move north of I-287 and empty nesters who said “sayonara” to the suburbs and found their footing in the city.

Growing Families Sprout to the Suburbs

From Park Slope to Parks Aplenty

For Cori and Matt Chmielecki the decision to leave their two-bedroom, one-bathroom apartment in Park Slope was a difficult one. They were happy in Brooklyn; they had great friends, a deck, a yard, a driveway and central air. But with the birth of their twins their apartment became too small for their family of five.

They began their search in the suburbs looking for more space and good schools. They were glad to get away from the feeder school mentality. “Right now all of my friends in Brooklyn are interviewing to get their kids into middle school. I knew that process wasn’t for me” remarked Cori. They preferred Westchester because it was close to family in Connecticut and Metro North offered an ideal commute for Matt, who works in the city.

The Chmielecki kids catch their school bus

“We loved Brooklyn and thought we wouldn’t be cool anymore if we left.” Said Cori, who can’t help but bring the Brooklyn vibe wherever she goes. “Getting into a store with a double stroller and a buggy board on the back was not fun. Life in Brooklyn felt hard, more hectic,” Cori recalls. They were a bit hesitant about going so far north but when all things were considered, Chappaqua was their best option.

Since moving to Chappaqua they acknowledge missing their friends and the culture and diversity of Brooklyn; but overall the Chmieleckis couldn’t be happier. They love their neighbors, the schools, their yard, the weeping willow in front of their house and the creek that runs through their property. Cori especially appreciates the school bus picking her kids up at the end of their driveway.

The Arany Family in the City

Addicted to Armonk

Karina Gritsenko and David Arany and their three sons moved from the Upper East Side to Armonk in September of 2017. Though they loved their rent stabilized two-bedroom apartment on Park Avenue, it was starting to feel too small for their growing family.

The Aranys had the standard requirements when looking to move to the suburbs. They were considering space, location, schools and community. Karina is a physician and commutes to Montefiore Medical Center in the Bronx. David works in finance in Stamford, CT and Manhattan, so proximity to these places was a consideration.

It wasn’t long after moving that Karina started teasing David that he was “Addicted to Armonk.” He loves everything about it: the focus on family, the community, the safety and especially the indoor and outdoor space. “Armonk is a family town in a way other towns aren’t. It has a real feeling of community with festive events like the Frosty Day Parade and the Armonk Outdoor Art Show.”

“We have an amazing town,” Karina says with pride. “Everything is geared towards the kids.  Armonk feels like the Upper East Side, only with houses instead of apartments.” David says that coming home to Armonk from the city “makes him calm and happy.”

Empty Nesters Flock to the City

A Nest in the Sky

Cheryl and Danny Strick moved to Armonk from LA in 2004 when their two kids were 10 and 6 years old. They had heard from friends that Windmill Farm in Armonk is one of the best places on the East Coast to raise kids. After looking around, they agreed and settled there. “It was such an easy place to meet people and make friends,” recalls Cheryl.

When their kids grew up and went away to college, Cheryl, a television producer, found herself at home alone with her three dogs working on projects while her husband worked long days in the music industry getting home late most nights. They decided that they would be able to spend more time together if they downsized and moved to the city.

The Stricks saw moving to the city as an opportunity to reinvent and rediscover their relationship. Cheryl feels that “you thrive by reinventing yourself.”

The thing the Stricks miss most about living in Armonk are their many dear friends. Cheryl makes a point to come back to Armonk regularly for Canasta games and lunches. The couple has an annual tradition of watching the Super Bowl and celebrating July 4th with their friends in Armonk.

Cheryl has enjoyed constantly recreating and redecorating her home as life has changed. She looks at this stage of her life as a continuation of that. This time she has built her home as “a nest high in the sky”. Though they miss their backyard with the screened in porch, pool and Jacuzzi, the Stricks now have a view from their Upper West Side 18th floor apartment terrace that they love.

Turning the Page

Lisa and Stephen Davis lived in Chappaqua for 31 years. They built a wonderful and happy life, and found it to be an ideal place to raise their three children. They established deep roots in the community. Lisa was on the Chappaqua Board of Education for nine years and served as the president of Temple Beth El; but the couple had both gone to college in the city and they lived there before having kids. Though they loved their life in Chappaqua, they always knew they would eventually go back. Eight years after their youngest finished college, they decided that it was time.

Lisa feels that “New York City is a great place to be as an older adult. You don’t have to drive, there is so much culture and you walk more.” It made sense that this was the place for their next phase. “It’s energizing and exciting to turn the page…and a little frightening”. Yet, Lisa emphasizes that it’s important for the timing to be right.

Lisa still maintains ties to Westchester, as she reverse commutes to her job as Executive Director of the Westchester Putnam School Board. On the other hand, her husband enjoys having a fast and easy commute to his job in the city.

The Davises are glad they moved to New York City, however Lisa misses being connected to the community like she was when she lived in Chappaqua. She has stayed in contact with her friends, however she misses being close to some of her favorite places like the Jacob Burns Film Center, Rockefeller State Park Preserve and her beloved temple.

Suburbity: A Combination of the Suburbs and the City

The city; an hour, but sometimes a lifetime, away. The decision about where to live often becomes about priorities and changing lifestyles. However, leaving one place doesn’t mean you must completely detach. And so, we can create a hybrid, a mash-up, of what we want and need from both places across the timeline of our lives. It is nice to know we have the best of suburban life still within a reasonable distance of all that the city offers, even if it takes years or even decades to get there.

My School Days as a Twin

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(L-R): Rebecca and Julia Bialek on the first day of kindergarten
PHOTO COURTESY OF JULIA BIALEK

I have a twin sister, but we were born on different days. Throughout our lives, our parents worked hard to ensure that we were not grouped as a unit; in their minds, the fact that we shared a womb had no bearing on our ability to act and be treated as individual people. And it doesn’t. Whether it was pure luck or my mom’s greatest intentional gift to us (as she will claim), the fact that my sister was born before midnight and I was born after has profoundly impacted the course of our lives. Our separate birthdays have infused a sense of individuality into both of us from the very beginning, allowing us to retain our own identities. Yes, we are twins, but we aren’t “the twins.” We are Julia and Rebecca. It only made sense that when the first days of school approached, my parents continued this arrangement.

Parents of twins have a choice: place their twins in the same classes or separate them. Naturally, my parents elected to separate us, placing us in different classrooms in which to grow and learn independently of the other. Although one of the built-in perks of having a twin is never needing to face a new situation alone, our parents wanted to provide us with the space to become our own people. I am so grateful for that. As we enter our senior year and reflect on our time as students, people, and twin sisters, it has never been more apparent how much of a gift that decision has been. Thank you mom and dad.

Growing up as twins, Rebecca and I have experienced most of our milestones and achievements together, from first days of school and first days of camp, to becoming bat mitzvahs and getting our driver’s licenses. In many cases, the memories I lay claim to also belong to her, with our shared experiences outnumbering our individual ones. But when it comes to school, most of my memories belong solely to me, as our separate educational paths have rarely collided. We always had different teachers, we were always in different classes, and we were always happy that way. As twins, we have spent nearly 18 full years side-by-side, growing up in rooms next to each other, spending the summers in the same bunk at camp, coming home to the same house, and so on. Despite our love for each other, that is a lot of time to spend with one person. Going to school each day allowed us to spend healthy time apart, providing us with a place to be our own people (albeit in the same building). In fact, school is the only place where our individual memories, experiences, and stories outnumber our shared ones.

Spending our days separately and pursuing our educations independently of the other, my sister and I have been able to learn, grow, and prosper in our own unique ways. That time apart, that time to explore who we are without the influence of the other twin, has been essential in shaping the people we have become. For my sister and me, being twins has always meant going through life as our own people, just doing it next to each other. But as college approaches and my sister and I face being separated by a greater distance than just our bedroom wall, we are confronted with the reality that we must continue our lives as our own people, but not side-by-side. For the first time in our entire lives, not only will our educational careers be separate, but our entire lives will be separate.

For the first time in our entire lives, we will not be together.

As we tour colleges, write applications, and begin our last year of living together in the same home, I cannot help but wonder how different our lives are going to be without having the other twin a shouting distance away. Even though Rebecca and I have very different personalities and interests, even though we were happy to be in separate classes, even though we are both ready for this change, it is going to be a shock to live without her. I have never known life without my twin sister, and I know that I will have to cope with a Rebecca-shaped hole in my life. It feels like yesterday that we were walking off of the bus together after our first day of kindergarten, and now we are seniors in high school preparing to live our lives as independent people in college. While it feels surreal that time has passed so quickly, I am eased by the knowledge that my twin sister is experiencing these changes with me, even if she is not residing in the bedroom next door.

As we approach this new and exciting time in our lives, I realize that this is the first chapter of my story that will not feature my twin sister as a main character. But Rebecca, as we continue to write our narratives and live our lives, I want you to know that I am me because of you. You will always be an important part of my story, because you are an important part of me.

Courage & Compassion in Times of Crisis: The Keys to Helping Yourself or Anyone You Know

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Full Disclosure: I was not an active follower of either Kate Spade or Anthony Bourdain. In this day and age of social media and celebrity, I certainly knew who both were and what each brought to the table, pun intended. I never purchased the eponymous bag that made Miss Spade a household name. I should have been quite a fan of Mr. Bourdain, but truth be told, watching his programs discouraged me in recent years. I was reminded of all I have lost since the first of three major surgeries left me even more mobility impaired than I had been for the first 42+ years of my life. Additional truth be told, I’m a fashionista wanna-be born in the wrong body and a frustrated hostess with the mostess not to mention a grounded adventurer.

The two recent high profile suicides early this summer raised the serious topic of depression once again. It takes the hard to believe self-inflicted deaths of the famous for this to be covered in the news with the exception of occasional reporting on teen suicide as well as the high suicide rate among veterans. The death of beloved Robin Williams highlighted the topic that still today seems taboo. The vast majority of his fans, knowing him only from the small or big screens making us laugh, found it unbelievable that he could be desperately unhappy, depressed. Do we really WANT to know that friends, family or celebrities can be feeling hopeless?

Many who have read my blogs or followed my Just Call Me Geri Facebook page probably know that my Mother (the one who chose me from a newspaper picture), from my earliest consciousness, taught me the importance of not feeling sorry for myself. The message included the tacit warning that no one would like me if I showed self-pity. It was only decades later that I would learn that there is a significant difference between whining and legitimately feeling down due to my circumstances.

By no means have I had the worst life, far from it, but I started life with strikes against me, first being born in a deformed shell with a condition called Diastrophic Dysplasia (some still call it dwarfism) that would embody my soul and personality. Being abandoned in the hospital by biological parents who left instructions behind that “no pictures to be taken of this baby” added 2nd and 3rd strikes, yet I was never out.

I won’t list the entire litany of hardships faced through 50 years but some include:

  • Being asked why I would want to have a baby and do to them what happened to me;
  • Being humiliated at a summer camp by someone supposedly to have been family;
  • Hearing sighs, groans and whispers when people had to help me in/out of cars or up stairs (who’s going to help Geri?”) and to stay away during emergencies;
  • Being “gently” told I could never provide a home for a man I had feelings for and not to expect to ever get married;
  • Being “harassed” by a married man who knew I would have little to no other intimate opportunities;
  • Being belittled and disrespected in hospital facilities when known I was alone;
  • Having inappropriate medical treatments or not having appropriate medical interventions due to Government restrictions;
  • Being at mercy of caregivers, who can be rude, rough and larcenous;
  • Being told I’m too depressing to talk to …

When at 40 I had finally obtained a Master’s Degree to begin a long in trying to figure out career, I was soon stymied, having that career cut short by three surgeries that left me in worse shape than before. The last two surgeries I never would have consented to if I had been warned my mobility would be all but lost completely. I would have opted for shorter life span over non quality of life. When over 10–30 years ago I’d fall into pits of despair, I struggled mightily, conjured up plans, fingering bottles of medication, really my only option. Remembering the haunting conclusion of Edith Wharton’s “Ethan Frome” always prevented me from trying anything self destructive with my car, the only other possible tool at my disposal. Yet, I always dug deep, as far inside as I could to keep the wavering flame from going out. Once such night in the wee hours, I remember sitting on the floor by my bed sobbing with heaving muted screams. What brought me back was thinking of “my kids” and their parents …how would they explain to them that I gave up?

This disclosure can possibly hurt my alternate career in the making …aiming to be a successful inspirational speaker but this is my truth. I cannot be phony. I’m not asking for people to feel sorry for me, but to understand that there are no easy answers.

More additional truth be told, I’d much rather laugh than cry. I actually enjoy having others laugh at my sometimes corny, other times bawdy, humor. I really should find an amateur Stand Up/Sit Down Comedy venue. Ridiculous irony from the universe, I’m rather an extrovert. God couldn’t have made me an agoraphobic?

I have my “highs” when I have several speaking engagements booked but then the “lows” (oxymoronic?) come rising up. (oxymoronic?) when I can’t seem to break through, catch that one break. My life is not one that made headlines because of a national crisis such as the Boston Marathon Bombing. I didn’t lose limbs while fighting for my Country. I didn’t grow up in

the age of social media where Promposals to kids with Special Needs go viral. I do not begrudge today’s kids who benefit from widespread inclusion.

I do not begrudge these later generations of kids who have benefited from widespread inclusion. In fact, I’d like to think I helped pave the way. Perhaps I have been “of use” to quote John Irving’s Dr. Larch.

Depression can take deep hold of anyone. For those suffering, suicide can seem like the only way out. Others may see it as selfish. Feeling like a burden is not easy but once a person has that initial thought, it becomes nearly impossible to erase it from one’s mindset. Please have compassion for those who have left via their own actions. And if you “can handle the truth,” reach out to those who may be struggling. When I encourage students to look after each other, I ask, “wouldn’t you want someone to look after you?” For those who are struggling, please try to let someone know you’re hurting, reach deep down inside and find the courage to reach out for assistance without shame. Keep your flame lit!

From Sump Pumps to Sandwiches: My Adjustment to Suburban Living

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As we were planning our move to Chappaqua from the city back in 2003 all the big questions had been addressed. Roaring Brook would have 19 or 20 kids in Charlie’s first grade class as opposed to the 27 in his Manhattan kindergarten. We’d convert our oil-burning furnace to natural gas because a knowledgeable source told us to. Bella’s crib would fit in a wonderfully proportionally manner in her new bedroom as opposed to the glorified walk-in closet that was her room in the apartment. And, Laurie would be able to walk to the train which was only a half mile away. With these issues addressed I was able to focus on something that I’d been mildly dreading. How and where would I be able to equal the bacon and egg on a roll with ketchup sandwich I’d treat myself to on mornings of happiness and optimism?

You see, pre-move, when I’d walk into the Korean deli on our block I’d make eye contact with the grill-man and before I could grab a self-serve regular coffee the eggs would be cracked, sizzling and within minutes I’d be enjoying the perfect urban New York sandwich. So, over those initial weeks I got the lay of the land breakfast-wise and from there was able to go on with my life. As it turns out, there were a number of local fine bacon and egg on a roll with ketchup sandwiches sampled and each one a little different. One local deli offered a solid and tasty effort aesthetically notable for the fact that they don’t cut the roll in half. Another put forth a hearty two egg affair with lovely fresh bread and egg yolk just runny enough to make the sandwich delicious yet manageable. The bagel store offered an extremely hearty sandwich, which was elevated by the meticulously crisped bacon. Much to my delight, the local delis up here were most definitely on their game.


Other elements of adjusting to life in Chappaqua were a little more jolting. We quickly realized that the 10-minute walk to the train was not exactly safe, nor even doable with snow on the ground, due to a lack of sidewalks on Quaker Road. I investigated alternative routes but realized that the fading dream of living a pedestrian lifestyle like our previous one would not be easy to accomplish. Happily, a number of years into our residency here sidewalks were installed near our house and this game changer of an infrastructure project most definitely opened up the possibility of, once again, being an active daily pedestrian. Ironically, years of driving everywhere, a situation I preached against when I was an urbanite, had become quite comfortable and the conversion to shoes back on concrete would take another mental adjustment.

Getting used to living in this countrified suburb took some time and a steep learning curve. The first house thing encounter was like a slap in the face. I knew intellectually that house-living meant you can’t call the Super when there’s a dripping faucet. Cut to me wading in ankle-deep water in our basement barely being able to pronounce “sump-pump” let alone having any idea of what the hell it even was. A more pressing issue was how exactly to make the damn thing function properly and clear the water out of our suddenly disgusting water logged basement. Now, a veteran homeowner, I’m essentially “Mr. Sump Pump” with a high-end, self installed bad-boy keeping the basement fastidiously dry. And, don’t get me started on my back-up sump-pump because I’ll happily chew your ear off on why having a second one is simply a must.

We’ve been here now for 15 years and It’s gone fast. Of course there’s been physical changes in the community from the aforementioned sidewalks to changing businesses to new athletic fields and so on. For us the changes have been the simple and huge developments that are universal yet unique to any family and probably somewhat indefinable. It’s the concrete things like a good bacon and egg on a roll with ketchup sandwich that hopefully remain constant. If not, there’s always another deli.